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Poem	THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair, And with them take the Poet’s prayer, That Fate may, in her fairest page, With ev’ry kindliest, best presage Of future bliss, enroll thy name: With native worth and spotless fame, And wakeful caution, still aware Of ill—but chief, Man’s felon snare; All blameless joys on earth we find, And all the treasures of the mind— These be thy guardian and reward; So prays thy faithful friend, the Bard.DUMFRIES, June 26, 1769.
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