My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; What Aiken in a cottage would have been; GRAY 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; This night his weekly moil is at an end, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil. Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers: Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; Their master's an' their mistress's command, 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: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!" But hark! a rap comes gently to the door. Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; Weel pleas'd 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'ertlows wi' joy, But blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave; O happy love! where love like this is found! And sage experience bids me this declare - 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale. Is there, in human form, that bears a heart- Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? 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! But now the supper crowns their simple board, The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food: The soupe their only Hawkie does afford, That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood; The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise; |