SONGS OF HOME.

1

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.

My loved, my honoured, 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 sequestered scene ; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;

What Aiken in a cottage would have been ;

ween!

Ah! though 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 The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,

repose:

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 hameward bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;

Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through
To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.

22

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.

His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily,

His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee,

Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,

An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil.

Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in,

At service out, amang the farmers roun'; Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin A cannie errand to a neebour town:

Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown, Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee,

To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.

Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet,
An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers:
The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet ;
Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ;
Anticipation forward points the view.

The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;

The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.

Their master's an' their mistress's command,
The younkers a' are warned to obey ;
An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand,

An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk or play:

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.

“An' oh! 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 :

They 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 neebour lad cam 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;
Wi' heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name,
While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak ;

Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake.

Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;

A strappan youth; he takes the mother's eye; Blythe 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 pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.

O happy love! where love like this is found!
O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!

I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
And sage experience bids me this declare

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