I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am obliged to desist from the experiment in despair.
May my last breath be drawn through a pipe, and exhaled in a jest.
Presents, I often say, endear absents.
He has left off reading altogether, to the great improvement of his originality.
I give thee all,-I can no more, Though poor the off'ring be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee.
Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.