Quiet, Lord, my froward heart, Make me teachable and mild, Upright, simple, free from art, Make me as a wean-ed child. From distrust and envy free, Pleased with all that pleases Thee.
What Thou shalt to-day provide,
Let me as a child receive;
What to-morrow may betide,
Calmly to thy wisdom leave.
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care,
Why should I the burden bear?
As a little child relies
On a care beyond his own, Knows he's neither strong nor wise, Fears to step a step alone :
Let me thus with Thee abide
As my Father, Guard, and Guide.
ROBERT BURNS.
FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.
Is there, for honest poverty,
That hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,
Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gold for a' that. What though on homely fare we dine, Wear hoddin grey, and a' that ; Give fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that;
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, and a' that;
The honest man, though e'er so poor,
Is king of men for a' that.
A prince can make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Good faith, he mauna fa' that!
For a' that, and a' that,
Their dignities, and a' that,
The pith of sense, and pride of worth,
Are higher ranks than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that;
That sense and worth o'er all the earth
May bear the gree, and a' that;
For a' that, and a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That man to man the world o'er
Shall brothers be for a' that.
When chapman billies leave the street,
And drowthy neebors neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak' the gate,
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
And getting fou and unco happy,
We think not on the long Scotch miles,
The mosses, waters, gates and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
This truth found honest Tam o' Shanter,
As he from Ayr one night did canter;
Auld Ayr, whom ne'er a town surpasses
For honest men and bonnie lasses.
Oh Tam! hadst thou but been so wise
As ta'en thy own wife Kate's advice! .
She prophesied that late or soon
Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon, Or catched with warlocks in the dark
By Alloway's old haunted kirk.
Ah! gentle dames, it gars me greet
To think how many counsels sweet,
How many lengthened sage advices,
The husband from the wife despises !
But to our tale.
Tam had got planted unco right,
Fast by a fireside blazing finely,
One market night
With frothing ale that drank divinely.
And at his elbow souter Johnnie,
His ancient, trusty, thirsty crony.
The night drove on with songs and clatter,
And aye the ale was growing better.
The souter told his queerest stories,
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus ;
The storm without might roar and rustle,
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.
Care, mad to see a man so happy,
E'en drowned himself among the nappy.
As bees flee home with lades of treasure,
The minutes winged their way with pleasure;
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er all the ills of life victorious.
But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow-falls in the river,
A moment white-then melt for ever;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form,
Evanishing amid the storm.-
No man can tether time or tide;
The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
That hour of night's black arch the key-stone,
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in ;
And such a night he takes the road in
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last,
The rattling showers rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed,
Loud, deep, and long, the thunder bellowed;
That night a child might understand
The Deil had business on his hand.
Weel mounted on his grey mare Meg,
A better never lifted leg;
Tam skelpit on through dub and mire,
Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
Whyles holding fast his guid blue bonnet,
Whyles crooning o'er some old Scotch sonnet,
Whyles glowering round with prudent cares
Lest bogies catch him unawares.
Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh,
Where ghosts and howlets nightly cry—.
Before him Doon pours all his floods,
The doubling storm roars through the woods;
The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
Near and more near the thunders roll;
When glimmering through the groaning trees,
Kirk Alloway seemed in a blaze;
Through every bore the beams were glancing;
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
Maggie stood right sore astonished,
Till, by the heel and hand admonished,
She ventured forward on the light,
And vow! Tam saw a wondrous sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance,
No cotillion bran new from France-
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys and reels,
Put life and mettle in their heels. . .
As Tammie glowered, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious;
The piper loud and louder blew ;
The dancers quick and quicker flew.
But Tam kenned what was what full bravely,
There was one winsome wench and jolly . .
But here my Muse her wing maun cower
Such flights are far beyond her power;
To sing how Nannie lept and flang,
(A souple jade she was and strang,)
And how Tam stood like one bewitched,
And thought his very eyes enriched. . . .
Till first one caper, then another,
Tam tint his reason altogether,
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