The focial hours, fwift-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 Mother, wi' her needle an' her fheers, Gars auld claes look amait as weel's the new; The Father mixes a' wi' admonition due. VI. Their Mafter's an' their Mistress's command, An' mind your duty, duely, morn an' Left in temptation's path ye gang aftray, Implore his counfel and affifting might: They never fought in vain that fought the • LORD aright.' VII. 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 flufh her cheek; With heart-ftruck anxious care, enquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to fpeak; Weel pleas'd the Mother hears, it's nae wild, worthlefs Rake. VIII. Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben; A ftrappan youth; he takes the Mother's eye; Blythe Jenny fees the vifit's no ill ta'en; The Father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. The Youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But blate and laithfu', fcarce can weel behave; The Mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth fae bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. IX. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heart-felt raptures! blifs beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And fage Experience bids me this declare-If Heav'n a draught of heav'nly pleasure • One cordial in this melancholy Vale, ''Tis when a youthful, loving, modeft Pair, In others arms breathe out the tender Is there, in human form, that bears a heartA Wretch a Villain! loft to love and truth! That can, with ftudied, fly, enfnaring art, Betray fweet Jenny's unfufpecting youth? Curfe on his perjur'd arts! diffembling smooth! Are Honor, Virtue, Confcience, all exil'd? 燕 Is there no Pity, no relenting Ruth, Points to the Parents fondling o'er their Child? Then paints the ruin'd Maid, and their di ftraction wild! XI. But now the Supper crowns their fimple board, The healfome Parritch, chief o' 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-hain'd keb buck, fell, A S An' . |