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GRACE BEFORE DINNER.

O THOU, who kindly dost provide
For every creature's want!

We bless thee, God of Nature wide,
For all thy goodness lent:

And, if it please thee, Heavenly Guide,
May never worse be sent ;

But whether granted, or denied,
Lord bless us with content!

ΤΟ

MY DEAR AND MUCH HONOURED friend,

MRS. DUNLOP, of DUNLOP.

ON SENSIBILITY.

SENSIBILITY how charming,

Thou, my friend, canst truly tell : But distress with horrors arming, Thou hast also known too well!

Fairest flower, behold the lily,
Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
See it prostrate on the clay.

Hear the wood-lark charm the forest,

Telling o'er his little joys: Hapless bird! a prey the surest,

To each pirate of the skies.

Dearly

Dearly bought, the hidden treasure,
Finer feelings can bestow;

Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

A Verse composed and repeated by BURNS to the Master of the House, on taking leave at a Place in the Highlands, where he had been hospitably entertained.

WHEN death's dark stream I ferry o'er,
A time that surely shall come;
In Heaven itself, I'll ask no more,
Than just a Highland welcome.

THE

THE TOAST.

(Written with a diamond Pencil on a Glass Tumbler, and presented to Miss JESSY LEWARS, now Mrs. THOMSON, Dumfries, a deservedly great favourite of the Poet's, and a kind and soothing friend to Mrs. BURNS at the time of his death.)

FILL me with the rosy wine,
Call a toast-a toast divine;
Give the Poet's darling flame,
Lovely Jessy be the name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.

The same Lady, complaining of some slight indisposition, BURNS told her he should take care to have an Epitaph ready for her in case of the worst, which he likewise wrote on a Glass Tumbler, to make a pair with the other, as follows:

Epitaph on Miss Jessy Lewars.

SAY, sages, what's the charm on earth,
Can turn Death's dart aside:

It is not purity and worth,

Else Jessy had not died.

R. E.

On her Recovery.

BUT rarely seen since Nature's birth,
The natives of the sky,

Yet still one Seraph's left on earth,
For Jessy did not die.

R. B.