Anticipation forward points the view: Gars 20 auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; Their master's and their mistress's command, An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!" To do some errands, and convoy her hame. Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; Weel pleased the mother hears it's nåe wild worthless rake. A strappan 24 youth, he taks the mother's eye; The father cracks 25 of horses, pleughs, and kye.26 But blate 27 an' laithfu',28 scarce can weel behave; What maks the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave, I've paced much this weary, mortal round, "Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 20 Makes. 21 Diligent. 22 Partly. 23 Into the parlour. 24 Tall and handsome. 26 Kine, cows. 27 Bashful. 28 Reluctant. 29 The rest, the others. 25 Converses. SP. ENG. LIT. 30 Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,- Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? But now the supper crowns their simple board! That 'yont 34 the hallan 35 snugly chows her cood: To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd 36 kebbuck,37 fell,38 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond 39 auld,40 sin 41 lint was i' the bell.42 The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, His lyart 44 haffets 45 wearin' thin an' bare; They chant their artless notes in simple guise; The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise; The priest-like father reads the sacred page, Mercy, kind feeling. 31 Oatmeal-pudding. 32 Sauce, milk. 33 A pet name for a cow. 37 A cheese. 44 Gray. Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage Or, rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire; Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, [command. And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, 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, May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul; And in His book of life the inmates poor enrol. Then homeward all take off their several way; The parent-pair their secret hoinage pay, 50 An island in the Archipelago, where John is supposed to have written the book of Revelation. 51 Priestly vestment. That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest, For them and for their little ones provide; From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And, Oh! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand, a wall of fire, around their much-loved isle. O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide . That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart, Who dared to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O never, never, Scotia's realm desert: But still the patriot, and the patriot bard, 52 Certainly. 261. John Wolcott. 1738-1819. (Manual, p. 396.) THE RAZOR SELLER. A fellow in a market town, Most musical, cried razors up and down, And offer'd twelve for eighteen-pence ; Which certainly seem'd wondrous cheap, As every man would buy, with cash and sense. A country bumpkin the great offer heard: "No matter if the fellow be a knave, It certainly will be a monstrous prize." And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes. Being well lather'd from a dish or tub, "Twas a vile razor!-then the rest he tried- "I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse." Hodge sought the fellow-found him-and begun : "P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun, That people flay themselves out of their lives: To cry up razors that can't shave." Friend," quoth the razor-man, "I'm not a knave: As for the razors you have bought, Upon my soul I never thought That they would shave." "Not think they'd shave!" quoth Hodge, with wondering eyes, And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; "What were they made for then, you dog?" he cries: "Made!" quoth the fellow, with a smile,-" TO SELL." |