By oppression's woes and pains! 4. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 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 At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; [bend. Th' expectant wee things, toddlin' stacher through His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily, His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wific's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labour and his toil. Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet, The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet; 66 An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand. An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! Implore His counsel and assisting might: [aright!" They never sought in vain that sought the Lord But hark a rap comes gently to the door; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor 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; With heart-struck anxious care inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; [rake. Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild worthless Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben; A strappin youth, he takes the mother's eye; Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill-ta'en : The father's crack of horses, pleughs, and куe. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But blate an' laithiu', scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashiu' 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 pacéd much this weary mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare."If Heaven a drait of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Is there in human form, that bears a heart, [gale." Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening A wretch a villain! lost to love and truth! Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? That 'yont the hallan snugly chews her cood: The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond auld, sin lint was i' the bell. His lyart haffets wearin' thin an' bare; And "Let us worship God," he says wi' solemn air. The tickled ear no heartfelt raptures raise, The priest-like father reads the sacred page, With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; Then kneeling down to Heaven's eternal King, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. May hear, well-pleased, the language of the soul; Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way; The parent-pair their secret homage pay, And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide: But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside. 5. AULD LANG SYNE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot For auld lang syne, my dear, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin auld lang syne. For auld &c. We twa hae padl't i' the burn From mornin' sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin auld lang syne. For auld &c. And here's a hand, my trusty frere, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught For auld lang syne. For auld &c. And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup, And surely I'll be mine; And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. 6. RANK. For auld &c. The rank is but the guinea's stamp, |