O! Hope , thou cheat'st the young an' gay
Wi' fondest expectation;
For pleasin' Fancy paints the way
Without investigation.

Alas! thou little ken'st the care
O' thorny life's employment;
Thy fairy figures promise fair,
But tine in the enjoyment.

Yet whan I think on days that's by,
How happy ye ha'e made me,
I fin' my heart aft heave the sigh,
That e'er ye shou'd ha'e fled me.

What gars ye, waverin', smilin' Hope,
An' fickle Fancy, lea'e me?
For ‘Reason, wi'; his boasted prop,
But little comfort gi'es me.

He's but a paughty sullen guide,
His paths are no ay pleasin';
An' than the heart-strings downa bide
Gin e'er a body lea'es him:

An' warldly Wisdom, wi' her wiles,
Keeps ay a body waukin';
She clogs the mind wi' care an' toils,
For either thought or ta'kin'.

Come Fancy, wi' thy magic skill,
An' wrap me in Elysium;
Though ye're the elder sister still,
Ye never fail to please ane.

But canker'd Care's tane up the min',
Without an invitation,—
Will keep his haud, till made to tine,
By Time, his eerie station.

What art thou, restless, wofu' wight,
That wring'st the heart unceasin';
That wounds the mind, and wrecks the sight,
Wi' thoughts an' views unpleasin'?—

That's ever waukin', ay at wark,
Altho' we canna' see thee;
Gropin' for something in the dark,
The warld canna' gi'e thee?

O Hope, come wi' thy shinin' pow'r,
Anchor my thoughts, an' right me,
Afore the dark an' dreary hour,
Of dread despair benight me!