O would they stay to calculate
Th' eternal consequences;
Or--your more dreaded hell to state--
Damnation of expenses!

Ye high, exalted virtuous Dames,
Tied up in godly laces,
Before ye gie poor Frailty names,
Suppose a change o' cases;
A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug,
A treacherous inclination--
But, let me whisper i' your lug, [ear]
Ye're aiblins nae temptation. [perhaps]

Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, [trifle]
To step aside is human.
One point must still be greatly dark,
The moving why they do it;
And just as lamely can ye mark
How far perhaps they rue it.

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone
Decidedly can try us;
He knows each chord, its various tone,
Each spring, its various bias.
Then at the balance let's be mute,
We never can adjust it;
What's done we partly may compute,