"The sun that overhangs yon moors,

Out-spreading far and wide,

Where hundreds labour to support
A haughty lordling's pride :
I've seen yon weary winter-sun
Twice forty times return,

And ev'ry time has added proofs
That man was made to mourn.

O man! while in thy early years,
How prodigal of time!
Mispending all thy precious hours,

Thy glorious youthful prime!
Alternate follies take the sway;
Licentious passions burn;

Which tenfold force gives nature's law,
That man was made to mourn.

Look not alone on youthful prime,
Or manhood's active might;
Man then is useful to his kind,
Supported is his right:

But see him on the edge of life,

With cares and sorrows worn;

and want-oh! ill-match'd pair!

Show man was made to mourn.

A few seem favourites of fate,

In pleasure's lap carest;

Yet, think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest.

But, oh! what crowds in every land, All wretched and forlorn!

Thro'

weary life this lesson learn

That man was made to mourn.

Many and sharp the num'rous ills

Inwoven with our frame !

More pointed still we make ourselves, Regret, remorse, and shame!

And man, whose heaven-erected face

The smiles of love adorn,

Man's inhumanity to man

Makes countless thousands mourn!

See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight,
So abject, mean, and vile,
Who begs a brother of the earth

To give him leave to toil;
And see his lordly fellow-worm
The poor petition spurn,

Unmindful, though a weeping wife

And helpless offspring mourn.

If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave-
By Nature's law design'd-
Why was an independent wish

E'er planted in my mind?
If not, why am I subject to
His cruelty or scorn?

Or why has man the will and power
To make his fellow mourn?

Yet, let not this too much, my son,
Disturb thy youthful breast;
This partial view of human-kind
Is surely not the last!
The poor, oppressed, honest man
Had never, sure, been born,

Had there not been some recompense
To comfort those that mourn!

O Death! the poor man's dearest friend-
The kindest and the best!
Welcome the hour, my aged limbs

Are laid with thee at rest!

The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow,

From pomp and pleasure torn!

But, oh! a blest relief to those

That weary-laden mourn.

Several of the poems," Gilbert Burns observes, were produced for the purpose of bringing forward some favourite sentiment of the author. He used to remark to me, that he could not well conceive a more mortifying picture of human life than a man seeking work. In casting about in his mind how this sentiment might be brought forward, the elegy Man was made to mourn,' was composed.' An old Scottish ballad had some share in giving life and language to these emotions.

I had an old granduncle," thus the Poet writes to Mrs. Dunlop, "with whom my mother lived a while in her girlish years. The good old man was long blind ere he died, during which time his highest enjoyment was to sit down and cry while my mother would sing the simple old song of The Life and Age of Man.' From the Poet's venerable mother, Mr. Cromek procured a copy of this composition; it commences thus :

"Upon the sixteen hunder year

Of God, and fifty-three,

Frae Christ was born, who bought us dear,

As writings testify;

On January the sixteenth day,

As I did lie alone,

With many a sigh and sob did say,

Ah, man was made to moan!"

The pious minstrel proceeds to compare the life of man to the seasons-five years of his "course" are considered equivalent to one of the months :

"Then in comes March that noble arch,

With wholesome spring and air;

The child doth spring to years fifteen,

With visage fine and fair.

So do the flowers, with softening showers,

Ay spring up as we see;

Yet ne'ertheless, remember this

That one day we must die."

April and May are prettily described: the succeeding

month still better:

"Then brave April doth sweetly smile,
The flow'rs do fair appear,

The child is then become a man
To the age of twenty year.
If he be kind and well inclin'd
And brought up at the school.
Then men may know if he foreshow
A wise man or a fool.

"Then cometh May gallant and gay
When fragrant flow'rs do thrive,
The child is then become a man
Of age twenty and five:

And for his life doth seek a wife
His life and years to spend,
Christ from above sent peace and love
And grace unto the end.

"Then cometh June with pleasant tune,
When fields with flowers are clad,
And Phoebus bright is at his height-
All creatures then are glad ;
Then he appears of thretty years,
With courage bold and stout;
His nature so makes him to go,
Of death he hath no doubt."

There are other and even closer resemblances between this antique strain and the "Man was made to mourn;" but all must concur in the opinion of Lockhart, that "whatever might be the casual idea that set the Poet to work, it is evident that he wrote from the habitual feelings of his own bosom."