(2) With honeft pride, I fcorn each felfish end, My deareft meed, a friend's esteem and praife: To you I fing, in fimple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's fequefter'd scene; The native feelings ftrong, the guileless ways; 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; The fhort'ning winter-day is near a close; The miry beafts retreating frae the pleugh; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose: The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects Collects his fpades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and reft to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his courfe does hameward bend. III. At length his lonely Cot appears in view, Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily, His clean hearth-ftane, his thriftie Wife's fmile, The lifping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil. A 2 IV. (4) IV. Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in, A cannie errand to a neebor town: Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthfu' bloom, Love sparkling in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to fhew a braw new gown, Or depofite her fair-won penny fee, To help her Parents dear, if they in hardship be. V. Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and fifters meet, An' each for other's weelfare kindly fpeirs: The The focial hours, swift-wing'd unnotic'd fleet; Each tells the uncos that he fees or hears; The Parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; Anticipation forward points the view. The Mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, Gars auld claes look amaift as weel's the new; The Father mixes a' wi' admonition due. VI. Their Master's an' their Miftrefs's command, An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand, ⚫ night! A 3 • Left • Left in temptation's path ye gang aftray, Implore his counsel and affifting might; They never fought in vain, that fought the • LORD aright.' VII. 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 fome errands, and convoy her hame, The wily Mother fees the confcious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flufh her cheek; With heart-ftruck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; Weel pleas'd the Mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless Rake. VIII. |