Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can
Frae critical dissection;
But keek thro' ev'ry other man [pry]
Wi' sharpen'd sly inspection.

The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love, [flame]
Luxuriantly indulge it;
But never tempt th' illicit rove, [attempt, roving]
Tho' naething should divulge it:
I waive the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard of concealing;
But och! it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling!

To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile,
Assiduous wait upon her;
And gather gear by ev'ry wile
That's justified by honour;
Not for to hide it in a hedge,
Nor for a train-attendant;
But for the glorious privilege
Of being independent.

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip
To haud the wretch in order; [hold]
But where ye feel your honour grip,
Let that aye be your border:
Its slightest touches, instant pause--
Debar a' side pretences;
And resolutely keep its laws,