II. Happy, ye sons of busy life, Who, equal to the bustling strife, Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd, Meet ev'ry sad returning night, How blest the Solitary's lot, Within his humble cell, The cavern wild with tangling roots, Or, haply, to his ev'ning thought, The ways of men are distant brought, A faint collected dream: While praising, and raising His thoughts to heav'n on high, As wand'ring, meand'ring, He views the solemn sky. IV. Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd The lucky moment to improve, The Solitary can despise, He needs not, he heeds not, ལ. Oh! enviable, early days, When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze, How ill exchang'd for riper times, Of others, or my own! Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, That active man engage! Of dim-declining age! WINTER. A DIRGE. I. THE wintry west extends his blast, While tumbling brown, the bourn comes down, And bird and beast in covert rest And pass the heartless day. II. "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 sooths my soul, My griefs it seems to join, The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! III. Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, Because they are thy Will! • Dr. Young. Then all I want (O, do thou grant THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT, INSCRIBED TO R. A****, ESQ. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, I. GRAY. Mr lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; 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; II. 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 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, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. III. At length his lonely cot appears in view, His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil, IV. Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in, Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown, Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. V. Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers: The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears; |