A cannie errand to a neibor 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. With joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet, The mother, wi' her needle and her shears, Their master's and their mistress's command, easy hard won wagef inquires news makes, clothes, [almost And ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk or play? But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door; To do some errands, and convoy her hame. With heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; diligent dally go who knows neighbour home half Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben; in A strappin' youth; he taks the mother's eye; Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en; The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. COWS bashful, hesi [tating Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. other people Oh happy love!-where love like this is found! Oh heartfelt raptures !-bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare "If Heaven a draught 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, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening 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 ruined maid, and their distraction wild But now the supper crowns their simple board, The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food; The soupe their only hawkie does afford, То porridge COW That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood: inner wall, chews oft [spicy grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell, well-saved cheese, And aft he's prest, and aft he ca's it gude; The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, twelvemonth, [in flower And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air. Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; The priest-like father reads the sacred page- With Amalek's ungracious progeny; How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; fire once gray cheeks selects adds fuel to How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand; And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then, kneeling down to HEAVEN'S ETERNAL KING, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride, But, haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul; Then homeward all take off their several way; And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best, From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, Oh Scotia. my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! From luxury's contagion, weak and vi'e! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets Le rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle. Pope's Windsor Forest.-B Oh Thou! who poured the patriotic tide That streamed through Wallace's undaunted heart, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, A FRAGMENT. My heart melts at human wretchedness; The most detested, worthless wretch among you! Then all I want (oh, do thou grant A PRAYER, WRITTEN UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH. OH Thou great Being! what Thou art Surpasses me to know: Yet sure am, that known to Thee Are all thy works below Thy creature here before Thee stands, Yet sure those ills that wring my soul Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act Oh free my weary eyes from tears, But if I must afflicted be, To suit some wise design; Then man my soul with firm resolves, To bear, and not repine! THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAILIE, THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE: AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALE. As Mailie and her lambs thegither, 'Oh thou, whose lamentable face A neighbour herd lad.-R very together one, halter foot, caught, loop over, struggled walking stupidly staring eyes nearly alas |