THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

But an honest man's aboon his might!

Guid faith, he mauna fa' that; For a' that, and a' that,

Their dignities, and a' that;

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may
As come it will, for a' that -

That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

It's comin' yet for a' that;

That man to man, the warld o'er,

Shall brothers be for a' that!

ROBERT BURNS.

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

NOW ponder well, you parents dear,

These words which I shall write;

A doleful story you shall bear,
In time brought forth to light.

A gentleman of good account
In Norfolk dwelt of late,
Who did in honor far surmount
Most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was, and like to die,
No help his life could save;
His wife by him as sick did lie,

And both possessed one grave.

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No love between these two was lost,

Each was to other kind;

In love they lived, in love they died,
And left two babes behind.

The one, a fine and pretty boy,
Not passing three years old;
The other, a girl more young than he,
And framed in beauty's mold.
The father left his little son,

As plainly doth appear,

When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a year.

And to his little daughter Jane,
Five hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on her marriage day,
Which might not be controlled :
But if the children chanced to die
Ere they to age should come,

Their uncle should possess their wealth;
For so the will did run.

Now, brother," said the dying man,

"Look to my children dear;

Be good unto my boy and girl,

No friends else have they here:

To God and you I recommend
My children dear this day;
But little while be sure we have

Within this world to stay.

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

"You must be father and mother both,

And uncle all in one;

God knows what will become of them
When I am dead and gone.

With that bespake their mother dear,
"O brother kind," quoth she,
"You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or misery.

"And if you keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;
But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deeds regard."
With lips as cold as any stone,

They kissed their children small :
"God bless you both, my children dear;"
With that their tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spake
To this sick couple there :
"The keeping of your little ones,
Sweet sister, do not fear.
God never prosper me or mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children dear
When you are laid in grave.”

The parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,

And brings them straight unto his house,
Where much of them he makes.

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He had not kept these pretty babes

A twelvemonth and a day,

But, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both away.

He bargained with two ruffians strong
Which were of furious mood,

That they should take these children young
And slay them in a wood.

He told his wife an artful tale :

He would the children send
To be brought up in fair London,
With one that was his friend.

Away then went those pretty babes,
Rejoicing at that tide,
Rejoicing with a merry mind,
They should on cockhorse ride.
They prate and prattle pleasantly,
As they rode on the way,

To those that should their butchers be
And work their lives' decay.

So that the pretty speech they had,
Made murder's heart relent;
And they that undertook the deed
Full sore did now repent.

Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
Did vow to do his charge,

Because the wretch that hired him

Had paid him very large.

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

The other won't agree thereto,

So here they fall to strife;
With one another they did fight
About the children's life:

And he that was of mildest mood,
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood :
The babes did quake for fear !

He took the children by the hand,
Tears standing in their eye,
And bade them straightway follow him,

And look they did not cry;

And two long miles he led them on,

While they for food complain :

Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread, When I come back again."

These pretty babes, with hand in hand,

Went wandering up and down;
But never more could see the man
Approaching from the town:
Their pretty lips with blackberries
Were all besmeared and dyed,

And when they saw the darksome night,
They sat them down and cried.

Thus wandered these poor innocents
Till death did end their grief,
In one another's arms they died,
As wanting due relief.

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