Begbie--"Once you are convinced I am sincere, I am perfectly certain you
have too much goodness and humanity to allow an honest man to languish
in suspense only because he loves you too well." Alison Begbie becomes
Mary Morison, and the sentiment, so elegantly turned in prose for her,
is thus melodiously transmuted for the lady-loves of all
languishing lovers--

"O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace
Wha for thy sake would gladly dee,
Or canst thou break that heart of his
Wha's only faut is loving thee?

If love for love thou wiltna gie,
At least be pity on me shown:
A thocht ungentle canna be
The thocht o' Mary Morison!"

Again, in the first month of 1783 he writes to Murdoch, the
schoolmaster--"I am quite indolent about those great concerns that set
the bustling busy sons of care agog; and if I have wherewith to answer
for the present hour, I am very easy with regard to anything further.
Even the last worst shift of the unfortunate and wretched does not
greatly terrify me." Just one year later this sentiment was sent current
in the well-known stanza concluding--

"But, Davie lad, ne'er fash your head
Though we hae little gear;
We're fit to win our daily bread
As lang's we're hale an' fier;
Mair speer na, nor fear na;