TH HE wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or, the stormy north sends driving forth. The blinding sleet and snaw: While tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae: And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," The joyless winter-day, Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want (oh, do Thou grant This one request of mine!) Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign. The Cotter's Saturday Night.' INSCRIBED TO ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ. My loved, my honour'd, much-respected friend! To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween! November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; The short'ning winter-day is near a close; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose; The toil-worn cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th' expectant wee things, toddlin', stacher through His clean hearthstane, his thrifty wifie's smile, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, And makes him quite forget his labour and his toil. Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, At service out, among the farmers roun': Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her ee, Comes hame, perhaps to show a braw new gown, Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet, 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. The Cotter's Saturday Night. Their master's and their mistress's command, And mind their labours wi' an eydent hand, And ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk or play : "And oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway! And mind your duty, duly, morn and night! Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!" But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door; Sparkle in Jenny's ee, and flush her cheek, Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben; A strappin' youth, he taks the mother's eye; The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. What makes the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave; Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. |