Perhaps I must appear!

If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun;
As something, loudly in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done;

Thou know'st that Thou hast formèd me
With passions wild and strong;
And list'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.

Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
Do thou, All-Good! for such Thou art,
In shades of darkness hide.

Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
But thou art good; and Goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.

In his _Epistle to John Rankine_, with a somewhat hard and heartless
humor, he braves out the affair; in the following _Welcome_ he treats
it with a tender pride, as sincere as his remorse:


THE POET'S WELCOME TO HIS LOVE-BEGOTTEN DAUGHTER

Thou's welcome, wean! Mishanter fa' me, [child! Misfortune befall]