The tempest's howl it soothes my soul, The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! III. Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Because they are Thy Will! Then all I want (O, do thoù grant This one request of mine!) Since to enjoy thou dost deny, THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. INSCRIBED TO R. A****, Esq. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, GRAY. I. My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! With honest pride I scorn each selfish end: The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; What A**** in a cottage would have been Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween... II. November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; 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. III. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher thro' 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. IV. Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in, Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown, Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. V. Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; 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. VI. 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, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play: 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, But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door; To do some errands, and convoy her hame. Weel pleas'd the mother hears, its nae wild, worthless rake. VIII. Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben; A strappan youth; he taks the mother's eye; Blithe 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 and laithfu', scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. IX. 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 'If Heav'n 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 ev'ning gale.' X. Is there, in human form, that bears a heart- That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth! Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? 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? |