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To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
The lowly train in life's sequester'd fcène ; The native feelings strong, 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 short’ning winter day, is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
The black’ning trains o' craws to their ree
pose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,
This night his weekly moil is at an end,
Collects his fpades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does
At length his lonely Cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant wee-tbings, toddlin, stacher
through To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise and
glee. His wee-bit ingle, blinkin bonilie,
his clean hearth-stane, his thrifty Wifie's
The lifping infant, prattling on his knee,
Doés a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile,
And make him quite forget his labor and his
BELYVE, the elder bairns come drapping in,
At service out, amang the Farmers roun';
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, fome tentie rin
A cannie errand to a neebor town ;
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown,
In youthfu’ bloom, Love sparkling in
Comes hame, perhaps, to thew a braw new
gown, Or deposite her fair-won penny-fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
WIT# joy unfeign'd, brothers and listers meet,
And each for other's welfare kindly spiers : The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet;
Each tells the uncos that he fees or hears.
The Parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;
Anticipation forward points the view; The Motber, wi' her needle and her sheers,
Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
The Father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
Their Master's and their Mistress's command,
The youngster's 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!
• And mind your duty duly, morn and night! • Left in temptation's path ye gang astray,
• Implore his counsel and assisting 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 same,
Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er, the moor,
To do fome errands, and convoy her hame.
The wily Mother fees the conscious flame
Sparkle in Jenny's e'e and flush her cheek, With heart-struck, anxious care, enquires his
While Jenny haflins is afraid to speak; Weel pleas'd the Mother hears, it's nae wild,
With kindly welcome, Fenny brings him ben;
A trappan youth; he takes the Mother's
Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill taen;
kye. The Youngster's artless heart o'erfow.s-wi' joy,