« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
Misled by fancy's meteor ray,
By passion driv'n;
Was light from heaven!
I taught thy manners-painting strains,
Thy fame extends :
Become thy friends.
“ Thou canst not learn, nor can I show,
With Shenstone's art,
Warm on the heart.
" Yet all beneath the unrivall'd rose,
His army shade,
Adown the glade.
* Then never murmur nor repine ;
Nor king's regard,
A rustic bard !
“To give my counsels all in one,
Preserve the Dignity of Man,
With soul erect;
Will all protect !
* And wear thou this !” she solemn said,
Did rustling play;
In light away.
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGIIT.
Inscribed to R. A****, Esq.
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
The short but simple annals of the poor.-GRAY
Mr lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend!
No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
What A**** in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween
November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ;
The short'ning winter-day is near a close; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
The black’ning trains o' craws to their repose ; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,
This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary o'er the moor his course does homeward bend
At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
To meet their dad, wi' flichter in noise an glee; His wee bit ingle blinkin bonily,
His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
Does a' his weary, carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labor and his toil.
Belyve the elder bairns come drappin in,
At service out, amang the farmers roun’;
A cannie errand to a neebor town;
In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her, e'e,
Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee,
Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet,
An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers ; The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet;
Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 'l'ac parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ;
Anticipation forward points the view.
Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
Their master's an’ their mistress's command,
The younkers a' are warned to obey ; " An' mind their labors wi’ an eydent hand,
An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play, An' O! be sure to fear the Lord alway!
An’ mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
Implore His counsel and assisting might; Chey never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright,
But hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
Jenny, wha kens the meaning o’ the same, Tells how a neebor lad came o'er the moor,
To do some errands, and convoy her hame! The wily mother sees the conscious flame
Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; With heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name,
While Jenny hafffins is afraid to speak; [rake, Weel pleas’d the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless
Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben,
A strappan youth; he takes the mother's eye; Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ;
The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
But blate an' laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the jave
O, happy love! where love like this is found;
0, heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
And sage experience bids me this declare -
One cordial in this melancholy vale,
In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening
Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,
A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth. That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? Curse on his perjur'd arts ! disseinbling smooth !
Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exild ? Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild