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"Left in temptation's path ye gang aftray,
"Implore his counsel and affifting migh:
"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 same,
Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek,
Weel pleas'd 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 vifits no ill ta'en;
The Father cracks o' horfes, pleughs, and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
But blate, an' laithfu' fcarce can weel behave; The Mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
What makes the youth fae bafhfu' and fae grave; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's refpećted like the lave.
O happy love! where love like this is found!
And fage Experience bids me this declare--
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
"In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale,
Beneath the milk-white thorn that fcents the evining
Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,
A wretch! a villain! loft to love and truth!
Betray fweet Jenny's unfuspecting youth?
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,
That 'yont the hallan fnugly chows her cood:
The frugal Wifie, garrulous, will tell,
How 'twas a towmond auld fin' Lint was i' the belt.
The chearfu' fupper done, wi' serious face,
His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare ;
He wales a portion with judicious care;
"And let us worship GoD!" he fays, with folemn air.
They chaunt their artless notes in fimple guife;
The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays :
The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;
The priest-like Father reads the facred page,
With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
Perhaps the Chriftian Volume is the theme,
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
Saw in the fon a mighty Angel stand,
And hear'd great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command.
Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King,
That thus they all fhall meet in future days:
No more to figh or thed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In fuch fociety, yet still more dear;
While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride,
In all the pomp of method and of art, When men difplay to congregations wide
Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! The Power, incens'd, the pageant will defert, The pompous ftrain, the facerdotal ftole ; But haply in fome Cottage far apart,
May hear, well-pleas'd, the language of the foul; And in His Book of Life the inmates pour enrol.
Then homeward all take off their several way;
The Parent-pair their fecret hoinage pay,
And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, That He who ftills the raven's clam'rous neft, And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way His Wifdom fees the beft,
For them and for their little ones provide;
But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. From foenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad:
* Pope's Windsor Forest.
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
"An honeft man's the nobleft work of God:" And certes, in fair Virtue's heavenly road,
The Cottage leaves the palace far behind:
For whom my warmeft wish to Heaven is fent!
Be bleft with health and peace, and fweet content! And, O! may Heaven their fimple lives prevent From Luxury's contagion, weak and vile'
Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
That ftream'd thro' great unhappy Wallace' heart;
But ftill the Patriot and the Patriot-bard, In bright fucceffion raife, her ornament and guard!
TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.
On turning one down with the plough, in April 1786
WEE, modeft, crimson-tipped Flow'r !
Thou's met me in an evil hour;