So come along, no more we'll part :' He faid, and touch'd him with his dart; And now, old Dobfon turning pale, Yields to his fate-fo ends my tale. The PEASANT and his Ass.-A TALE. S on the road a peasant drove his ass, And tho' he had no right to do it, He dar'd the pound, and turn'd the beast into it. Why, no then what is it to me, If I belong to them or thee? You may by flight your freedom fave If you difdain to be a flave: For me, it is no new difafter; Nor do I know The thing that I can call my foe, THE THE COTTER's SATURDAY NIGHT, INSCRIBED TO R. A****, Efq; Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, MY GRAY. Y lov'd, my honor'd, much refpected friend, No mercenary Bard his homage pays; With honeft, pride, I scorn each felfifh end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praife: To you I fing, in fimple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's fequefter'd fcene; 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! November chill blaws loud wi' angry fugh; The fhort'ning winter-day is near a clofe; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repofe: $ 2 The goes, The toil-worn COTTER frae his labor At length his lonely Cet appears in view, The expectant wee-things, toddlan, ftacher through His clean hearth-ftane, his thrifty Wifie's smile, The lifping infant, prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile, And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil. Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, At Service out, amang the Farmers roun'; Their eldeft hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, To help her Parents dear, if they in hardship be. And each for other's weelfare kindly spiers: Gars Gars auld claes look amaift as weel's the new; The Father mixes a' wi' admonition due. Their Master's and their Mistress's command, The youngkers a' are warned to obey; And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand, And ne'er, tho' out o' fight, to jauk or play: 'And O! be fure to fear the LORD alway! And mind your duty, duely, morn and night! 'Left in temptation's path ye gang aftray, Implore his counsel and affisting might : They never fought in vain that fought the LORD "aright." But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; Weel-pleas'd the Mother hears, it's nae wild worthlefs Rake. With kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben; Aftrappan youth; he takes the Mother's eye; Blythe Jenny fees the vifit's no ill taen; The Father cracks of horses, pleughs and kye. The Youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But blate and laithfu', fcarce can weel behave; The Mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can fpy What What makes the youth fae bafhfu' and fae grave; Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's refpected like the lave. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heart-felt raptures! blifs beyond compare ! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And fage 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 fcents the ev'ning gale.' Is there, in human form, that bears a heart- Points to the Parents fondling o'er their Child? Then paints the ruin'd Maid, and their diftraction wild! But now the Supper crowns their fimple board, The healfome Porritch, chief of SCOTIA's food: The foupe their only Hawkie does afford, That 'yont the hallan fnugly chows her cood: The Dame brings forth, in complimental mood, To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell, And aft he's prest, and aft he ca's it guid; The |