LXXIV.

[The sentiment which these lines express, was one familiar to Burns, in the early, as well as concluding days of his life.]

Though fickle Fortune has deceived me, She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill; Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me, Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.--

I'll act with prudence as far's I'm able, But if success I must never find, Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome, I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.

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