F. Alas! alas! pray end what you began, And write next winter more Effays on Man.
The Cotter's Saturday Night.
Infcribed to R. A****. Esq.
Let not Ambition mark their ufeful toil,
Their homely joys and deftiny obfcure;
Nor Grandeur hear, with a difdainful fmile,
The fhort but fimple annals of the poor. GRAY.
Y loved, my honor'd, much refpected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honeft pride, I fcorn each selfish end, My deareft meed, a friend's esteem and praise : To you I fing, in fimple Scotifh 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 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 repofe:
The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,
This night his weekly moil is at an end,
Collects his fpades, his mattocks, and his haes,
Hoping the morn in ease and reft to spend,.
And weary, o'er the moor, his courfe does hameward bend.
At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the fhelter of an aged tree;
Th' expectant wee things, toddling, flacher through
Te meet their dad, wi' flichtrim noife and glee,
His wee-bit ingle blinkin bonilie,
His clean hearth-ftane, his thrifty wife's fmile,
The lifping infant prattling on his knee,
Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil.
Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in,
At fervice out, amang the farmers roun';
Some ca' the pleugh, fome herd, fomè tentie rin
A cannie errand to a neebor town:
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
In youthfu' bloom, love fparkling in her e'e,
Comes hame, perhaps, to fhew a braw new gown,
Or depofit her fair-won penny fee,
To help her parents dear, if they in hardships be..
With joy unfeign'd, brothers and fiflers meet,
And each for other's welfare kindly fpiers;
The social hours, fwift-wing'd unnoticed fleet;:
Each tells the unco's that he fees or hears,
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;.
Anticipation forward points the view;
The mother wi' her needle and her fheers,
Gars auld claes look almaift as weel's the new ;:
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
Their maflers and their miftreffes command,
The youngkers a' are warned to obey;
And mind their labours wi' an eydent hand.
And ne'er, tho' out of fight, to jank or play:
And O be fure to fear the Lord alway!
And mind your duty, daily morn and night!
Left in temptation's path ye gang aftray,
Implore his council and affifting might:
They never fought in vain that fought the LORD aright.
But hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
Jenny wha kens the meaning o' the fame,
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, enquires his
While Jenny hafflins is afraid to fpeak:
Weel pleafed the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless rake
With kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben;.
A ftrappan 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 artlefs heart o'erflows wi' joy,
But blate and baithfu', fcarce can weel behave;
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy,
What makes the youth fae bafhfu', and fae grave:
Well pleased to think her bairn's refpected like the laves
O happy love! where love like this is found!
O heart-felt raptures blifs beyond compare!
I've paced much this weary mo rtal round,
And fage experience bids me this declare-
If Heaven a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modeft pair
In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,
Beneath the milk-white thorn that fcents the evening gale,
Is there in human form that bears a heart,
A wretch, a villain! loft to love and truth,
That can, with ftudied, fly, enfnaring art,
Betray fweet Jenny's unfufpecting youth?
Curfe on his perjured arts! diffembling fmooth!"
Are Honour, Virtue, Confcience, all exiled?
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!
But now the fupper crowns their fimple board,
The healfome parritch, 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-hained kebbuck fell,
And aft he's prefs'd and aft he ca's it guid;
The frugal wifie, garrulous will tell,
How 'twas a towmond auld, fin' lint was i' the bell..
The chearfu' fupper done, wi' ferious face,
They round the ingle form a circle wide;
The Sire turns o'er the, with patriarchal grace,
The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride :
His bonnet rev'rently is laid afide,
His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare ;
Those ftrains that once did fweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with judicious care :
And let us worship GoD,' he fays, with folemn air.
They chant their artlefs notes in fimple guise;
They tune their hearts, by far the nobleft aim:
Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rife,
Or plaintive martyrs, worthy of the name;
Or noble Elgin beats the heav'nward flame
The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
Compared with thefe, Italian trills are tame;
The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raife;
Nae unifon hae they, with our Creator's praise
The priefl-like father reads the facred page,
How Abram was the friend of God on high;
Or, Mofes bade eternal warfare wage
With Amalek's ungracious progeny ;
Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie,
Beneath the flroke of Heav'ns avenging ire;
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
Or rapt Ifaiah's wild feraphic fire,
Or other holy feers that tune the facred lyre.
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