 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
157
THE CONTRAST.
INSCRIBED TO JAMES SCADLOCK.
August, 1803.
When Love proves false, and friends betray us,
All nature seems a dismal chaos
Of wretchedness and woe;
We stamp mankind a base ingrate;
Half loathing life, we challenge fate
To strike the final blow.
Then settled grief, with wild despair,
Stares from our bloodshot eyes,
Though oft we try to hide our care,
And check our bursting sighs.
Still vexed, sae wretched,
We seek some lonely wood;
There sighing, and crying,
We pour the briny flood.
All nature seems a dismal chaos
Of wretchedness and woe;
We stamp mankind a base ingrate;
Half loathing life, we challenge fate
To strike the final blow.
Then settled grief, with wild despair,
Stares from our bloodshot eyes,
Though oft we try to hide our care,
And check our bursting sighs.
Still vexed, sae wretched,
We seek some lonely wood;
There sighing, and crying,
We pour the briny flood.
Mark the contrast—what joys we find,
With friends sincere and beauty kind,
Congenial to our wishes;
Then life appears a summer's day;
Adown Time's crystal stream we play,
As sportive's little fishes.
We see nought then but general good,
Which warm pervades all nature;
Our hearts expand with gratitude
Unto the great Creator.
Then let 's revere the virtuous fair,
The friend whose truth is tried;
For, without these, go where we please,
We 'll always find a void.
With friends sincere and beauty kind,
Congenial to our wishes;
Then life appears a summer's day;
Adown Time's crystal stream we play,
As sportive's little fishes.
We see nought then but general good,
Which warm pervades all nature;
Our hearts expand with gratitude
Unto the great Creator.
Then let 's revere the virtuous fair,
The friend whose truth is tried;
For, without these, go where we please,
We 'll always find a void.
| The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill | |