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. 36

With joy unfeigned brothers and sisters meet, And each for other's weelfare kindly spiers: The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears. The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; Anticipation forward points the view; The mother, wi' her needle and her shears, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.

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Their master's and their mistress's command, The younkers a' are warned to obey; And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand, And ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk or play: "And O, be sure to fear the Lord alway!

An' mind your duty, duly, morn and night! Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,

Implore his counsel, and assisting might; They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"

But, hark! à 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 some errands and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;

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With heart-struck anxious care enquires his

name,

While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake.

With kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben;
A strappin' youth; he taks the mother's eye;
Blithe Jenny sees the visit 's no ill ta'en;

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The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But blate and laithefu', scarce can weel be

have;

The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy.
What makes the youth sae bashfu' and saé

grave;

Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like

the lave.

O happy love! where love like this is found!
O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare!
I've paced much this weary mortal round,

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And sage experience bids me this declare:"If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure sparc, 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,
A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth,

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That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling,
smooth!

Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?
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?

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But now the supper crowns their simple board, The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food; The soupe their only hawkie does afford,

That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood; The dame brings forth, in complimental mood, To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell;

And aft he 's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;

The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 't was a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.

The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride.
His bonnet reverently is laid aside,

99

His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare: Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; And "Let us worship God!" he says with solemn

air.

108

They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest

aim:

Perhaps "Dundee's" wild-warbling measures

rise,

Or plaintive" Martyrs," worthy of the name; Or noble "Elgin" beets the heavenward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays: Compared with these, Italian trills are tame;

The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 117

The priest-like father reads the sacred page,How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage

With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;

Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 126

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,-
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
How He, who bore in heaven the second name,
Had not on earth whereon to lay his head:
How his first followers and servants sped;
The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:
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.

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Then, kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days; There ever bask in uncreated rays,

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise,

In such society, yet still more dear;

While circling Time moves round in an eternal; sphere.

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Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,
In all the pomp of method and of art,
When men display to congregations wide,

Devotion's every grace, except the heart! The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; But, haply, in some cottage far apart,'

May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul;,

And in His Book of Life the inmates poor en

roll.

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Then homeward all take off their several way;
The youngling cottagers retire to rest:

The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,
That He who stills the raven's clamorous nest,
And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best,

For them and for their little ones provide;

But, chiefly, in their hearts with Grace Divine

preside.

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