On that whilk makes our sweetness soon forget.
Wow! but we're bonny, good, and every thing;
How sweet we breathe, whene'er we kiss, or sing!
But we're nae sooner fools to give consent,
Than we our daffine and tint power repent:
When prison'd in four waws, a wife right tame,
Altho' the first, the greatest drudge at hame.
_Rog._ That only happens, when for sake of gear,
Ane wales a wife, as he wad buy a mear;
Or when dull parents bairns together bind
Of different tempers, that can ne'er prove kind.
But love, true downright love, engages me,
Tho' thou should scorn,--still to delight in thee.
_Jen._ What suggar'd words frae wooers lips can fa'!
But girning marriage comes and ends them a'.
I've seen with shining fair the morning rise,
And soon the sleety clouds mirk a' the skies.
I've seen the silver spring a while rin clear,
And soon in mossy puddles disappear.
The bridegroom may rejoice, the bride may smile;
But soon contentions a' their joys beguile.
_Rog._ I've seen the morning rise with fairest light,
The day unclouded sink in calmest night.
I've seen the spring rin wimpling thro' the plain,
Increase and join the ocean without stain.
The bridegroom may be blyth, the bride may smile;
Rejoice thro' life, and all your fears beguile.
_Jen._ Were I but sure you lang wou'd love maintain,
The fewest words my easy heart could gain:
For I maun own, since now at last you're free,
Altho' I jok'd, I lov'd your company;
And ever had a warmness in my breast,
That made ye dearer to me than the rest.
_Rog._ I'm happy now! o'er happy! had my head!--
This gush of pleasure's like to be my dead.
Come to my arms! or strike me! I'm all fir'd
With wondring love! let's kiss till we be tir'd.
Kiss, kiss! we'll kiss the sun and starns away,
And ferly at the quick return of day!
O Jenny! let my arms about thee twine,
And briss thy bonny breasts and lips to mine.
_Which may be sung as follows._
SANG XIII.--_Tune_, Leith Wynd.
JENNY.
_Were I assur'd you'd constant prove,
You should nae mair complain;
The easy maid, beset with love,
Few words will quickly gain:
For I must own, now since you're free,
This too fond heart of mine
Has lang, a black-sole true to thee,
Wish'd to be pair'd with thine._
ROGER.
_I'm happy now; ah! let my head
Upon thy breast recline;
The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead;
Is_ Jenny _then sae kind?----
O! let me briss thee to my heart,
And round my arms entwine:
Delytfu' thought! we'll never part:
Come press thy lips to mine._
_Jen._ With equal joy my easy heart gi'es way,
To own thy well try'd love has won the day.
Now by these warmest kisses thou has tane,
Swear thus to love me, when by vows made ane.
_Rog._ I swear by fifty thousand yet to come,
Or may the first ane strike me deaf and dumb,
There shall not be a kindlier dawted wife,
If you agree with me to lead your life.
_Jen._ Well, I agree:--Neist, to my parent gae,
Get his consent,--he'll hardly say ye nay.
Ye have what will commend ye to him well,
Auld fowks, like them, that wants na milk and meal.
SANG XIV.--_Tune_, O'er Bogie.
_Well, I agree, ye're sure of me;
Next to my father gae:
Make him content to give consent,
He'll hardly say you nay:
For you have what he wad be at,
And will commend you well,
Since parents auld think love grows cauld,
Where bairns want milk and meal._
_Shou'd he deny, I care na by,
He'd contradict in vain;
Tho' a' my kin had said and sworn,
But thee I will have nane.
Then never range, nor learn to change,
Like those in high degree;
And if ye prove faithful in love,
You'll find nae faut in me._
_Rog._ My faulds contain twice fifteen forrow nowt,
As mony newcal in my byars rowt;
Five pack of woo I can at Lammas sell,
Shorn frae my bob-tail'd bleeters on the fell:
Good twenty pair of blankets for our bed,
With meikle care, my thrifty mither made.
Ilk thing that makes a heartsome house and tight,
Was still her care, my father's great delight.
They left me all; which now gie's joy to me,
Because I can give a', my dear, to thee:
And had I fifty times as meikle mair,
Nane but my Jenny should the samen skair.
My love and all is yours; now had them fast,
And guide them as ye like, to gar them last.
_Jen._ I'll do my best.--But see wha comes this way,
Patie and Meg;--besides, I mauna stay:
Let's steal frae ither now, and meet the morn;
If we be seen, we'll drie a deal of scorn.
_Rog._ To where the saugh-trees shades the mennin-pool,
I'll frae the hill come down, when day grows cool:
Keep triste, and meet me there;--there let us meet,
To kiss, and tell our love;--there's nought sae sweet.
_ACT III--SCENE IV._
This scene presents the Knight and Sym
Within a Gallery of the Place,
Where all looks ruinous and grim;
Nor has the Baron shown his face,
But joking with his shepherd leel,
Aft speers the gate he kens fu' well.
SIR WILLIAM _and_ SYMON.
_Sir William._
To whom belongs this house so much decay'd?
_Sym._ To ane that lost it, lending generous aid,
To bear the Head up, when rebellious Tail
Against the laws of nature did prevail.
Sir William Worthy is our master's name,
Whilk fills us all with joy, now _He's come hame_.
(_Sir William draps his masking beard,
Symon transported sees
The welcome Knight, with fond regard,
And grasps him round the knees._)
My master! my dear master!--do I breathe,
To see him healthy, strong, and free frae skaith;
Return'd to chear his wishing tenants sight,
To bless his son, my charge, the world's delight!
_Sir Will._ Rise, faithful Symon; in my arms enjoy
A place, thy due, kind guardian of my boy:
I came to view thy care in this disguise,
And am confirm'd thy conduct has been wise;
Since still the secret thou'st securely seal'd,
And ne'er to him his real birth reveal'd.
_Sym._ The due obedience to your strict command
Was the first lock;--neist, my ain judgment fand
Out reasons plenty: since, without estate,
A youth, tho' sprung frae kings, looks baugh and blate.
_Sir Will._ And aften vain and idly spend their time,
'Till grown unfit for action, past their prime,
Hang on their friends--which gi'es their sauls a cast,
That turns them downright beggars at the last.
_Sym._ Now well I wat, Sir, ye have spoken true;
For there's laird Kytie's son, that's loo'd by few:
His father steght his fortune in his wame,
And left his heir nought but a gentle name.
He gangs about sornan frae place to place,
As scrimp of manners, as of sense and grace;
Oppressing all as punishment of their sin,
That are within his tenth degree of kin:
Rins in ilk trader's debt, wha's sae unjust
To his ain fam'ly, as to give him trust.
_Sir Will._ Such useless branches of a common-wealth,
Should be lopt off, to give a state mair health.
Unworthy bare reflection.--Symon, run
O'er all your observations on my son;
A parent's fondness easily finds excuse:
But do not with indulgence truth abuse.
_Sym._ To speak his praise, the langest simmer day
Wad be o'er short,--cou'd I them right display.
In word and deed he can sae well behave,
That out of sight he runs before the lave;
And when there's e'er a quarrel or contest,
Patrick's made judge to tell whase cause is best;
And his decreet stands good;--he'll gar it stand:
Wha dares to grumble, finds his correcting hand;
With a firm look, and a commanding way,
He gars the proudest of our herds obey.
_Sir Will._ Your tale much pleases;--my good friend, proceed:
What learning has he? Can he write and read?
_Sym._ Baith wonder well; for, troth, I didna spare
To gi'e him at the school enough of lair;
And he delites in books:--He reads, and speaks
With fowks that ken them, Latin words and Greeks.
_Sir Will._ Where gets he books to read?--and of what kind?
Tho' some give light, some blindly lead the blind.
_Sym._ Whene'er he drives our sheep to Edinburgh port,
He buys some books of history, sangs or sport:
Nor does he want of them a rowth at will,
And carries ay a poutchfu' to the hill.
About ane Shakspear, and a famous Ben,
He aften speaks, and ca's them best of men.
How sweetly Hawthrenden and Stirling sing, }
And ane ca'd Cowley, loyal to his king, }
He kens fu' well, and gars their verses ring. }
I sometimes thought he made o'er great a frase,
About fine poems, histories and plays.
When I reprov'd him anes,--a book he brings,
With this, quoth he, on braes I crack with kings.
_Sir Will._ He answer'd well; and much ye glad my ear,
When such accounts I of my shepherd hear.
Reading such books can raise a peasant's mind
Above a lord's that is not thus inclin'd.
_Sym._ What ken we better, that sae sindle look,
Except on rainy Sundays, on a book;
When we a leaf or twa haff read haff spell,
'Till a' the rest sleep round as well's our sell?
_Sir Will._ Well jested, Symon:--But one question more
I'll only ask ye now, and then give o'er.
The youth's arriv'd the age when little loves
Flighter around young hearts like cooing doves:
Has nae young lassie, with inviting mien,
And rosy cheek, the wonder of the green,
Engag'd his look, and caught his youthfu' heart?
_Sym._ I fear'd the warst, but kend the smallest part,
'Till late I saw him twa three times mair sweet,
With Glaud's fair Neice, than I thought right or meet:
I had my fears; but now have nought to fear,
Since like your sell your son will soon appear.
A gentleman, enrich'd with all these charms,
May bless the fairest best born lady's arms.
_Sir Will._ This night must end his unambitious fire,
When higher views shall greater thoughts inspire.
Go, Symon, bring him quickly here to me;
None but your self shall our first meeting see.
Yonder's my horse and servants nigh at hand,
They come just at the time I gave command;
Straight in my own apparel I'll go dress:
Now ye the secret may to all confess.
_Sym._ With how much joy I on this errand flee!
There's nane can know, that is not downright me.
[_Exit_ SYMON.
_Sir_ WILLIAM _solus_.
When the event of hopes successfully appears,
One happy hour cancells the toil of years.
A thousand toils are lost in Lethe's stream,
And cares evanish like a morning dream:
When wish'd for pleasures rise like morning light,
The pain that's past enhances the delight.
These joys I feel that words can ill express,
I ne'er had known without my late distress.
But from his rustick business and love, }
I must in haste my Patrick soon remove, }
To courts and camps that may his soul improve. }
Like the rough diamond, as it leaves the mine,
Only in little breakings shews its light,
Till artfu' polishing has made it shine:
Thus education makes the genius bright.
_Or sung as follows._
SANG XV.--_Tune_, Wat ye wha I met Yestreen.
_Now from rusticity and love,
Whose flames but over lowly burn,
My gentle shepherd must be drove,
His soul must take another turn:
As the rough diamond from the mine,
In breakings only shews its light,
Till polishing has made it shine:
Thus learning makes the genius bright._ [_Exit_
End of the THIRD ACT.
ACT FOURTH.
_SCENE I._
The scene describ'd in former page,
Gland's onstead,--Enter _Mause_ and _Madge._
MAUSE _and_ MADGE.
_Mause._
Our laird's come hame! and owns young Pate his heir!
That's news indeed!----
_Mad._----As true as ye stand there.
As they were dancing all in Symon's yard,
Sir William, like a warlock, with a beard
Live nives in length, and white as driven snaw,
Amang us came, cry'd, _Had ye merry a'_.
We ferly'd meikle at his unco look,
While frae his pouch he whirled forth a book.
As we stood round about him on the green,
He view'd us a', but fix'd on Pate his een;
Then pawkily pretended he cou'd spae,
Yet for his pains and skill wad nathing ha'e.
_Mause._ Then sure the lasses, and ilk gaping coof,
Wad rin about him, and had out their loof.
_Mad._ As fast as flaes skip to the tate of woo,
Whilk slee Tod Lawrie hads without his mow,
When he to drown them, and his hips to cool,
In simmer days slides backward in a pool:
In short he did, for Pate, braw things fortell,
Without the help of conjuring or spell.
At last, when well diverted, he withdrew,
Pow'd aff his beard to Symon, Symon knew
His welcome master;--round his knees he gat,
Hang at his coat, and syne for blythness grat.
Patrick was sent for;--happy lad is he!
Symon tald Elspa, Elspa tald it me.
Ye'll hear out a' the secret story soon;
And troth 'tis e'en right odd when a' is done,
To think how Symon ne'er afore wad tell,
Na, no sae meikle as to Pate himsell.
Our Meg, poor thing, alake! has lost her jo.
_Mause._ It may be sae; wha kens? and may be no.
To lift a love that's rooted, is great pain; }
Even kings have tane a queen out of the plain: }
And what has been before, may be again. }
_Mad._ Sic nonsense! love tak root, but tocher-good,
'Tween a herd's bairn, and ane of gentle blood!
Sic fashions in King Bruce's days might be;
But siccan ferlies now we never see.
_Mause._ Gif Pate forsakes her, Bauldy she may gain; }
Yonder he comes, and wow but he looks fain! }
Nae doubt he thinks that Peggy's now his ain. }
_Mad._ He get her! slaverin doof; it sets him weil
To yoke a plough where Patrick thought to till.
Gif I were Meg, I'd let young Master see--
_Mause._ Ye'd be as dorty in your choice as he:
And so wad I. But whisht, here Bauldy comes.
_Enter_ BAULDY _singing._
Jenny _said to_ Jocky, _gin ye winna tell,
Ye shall be the lad, I'll be the lass mysell;
Ye're a bonny lad, and I'm a lassie free;
Ye're welcomer to tak me than to let me be._
I trow sae.--Lasses will come to at last,
Tho' for a while they maun their snaw-ba's cast.
_Mause._ Well, Bauldy, how gaes a'?--
_Baul._ ----Faith unco right:
I hope we'll a' sleep sound but ane this night.
_Mad._ And wha's the unlucky ane, if we may ask?
_Baul._ To find out that, is nae difficult task;
Poor bonny Peggy, wha maun think nae mair
On Pate, turn'd Patrick, and Sir William's heir.
Now, now, good Madge, and honest Mause, stand be,
While Meg's in dumps, put in a word for me.
I'll be as kind as ever Pate could prove;
Less wilful, and ay constant in my love.
_Mad._ As Neps can witness, and the bushy thorn,
Where mony a time to her your heart was sworn:
Fy! Bauldy, blush, and vows of love regard;
What other lass will trow a mansworn herd?
The curse of Heaven hings ay aboon their heads,
That's ever guilty of sic sinfu' deeds.
I'll ne'er advise my niece sae gray a gate;
Nor will she be advis'd, fu' well I wate.
_Baul._ Sae gray a gate! mansworn! and a' the rest:
Ye leed, _auld Roudes_--and, in faith, had best
Eat in your words; else I shall gar ye stand
With a het face afore the haly band.
_Mad._ Ye'll gar me stand! ye sheveling-gabit brock;
Speak that again, and, trembling, dread my rock,
And ten sharp nails, that when my hands are in,
Can flyp the skin o'ye'r cheeks out o'er your chin.
_Baul._ I tak ye witness, Mause, ye heard her say,
That I'm mansworn:--I winna let it gae.
_Mad._ Ye're witness too, he ca'd me bonny names,
And should be serv'd as his good breeding claims.
Ye filthy dog!----
[_Flees to his hair like a fury.--A stout battle.--Mause endeavours to
redd them._
_Mause._ Let gang your grips, fy, Madge! howt, Bauldy leen:
I wadna wish this tulzie had been seen;
'Tis sae daft like.----
[_Bauldy gets out of Madge's clutches with a bleeding nose._
_Mad._ ----'Tis dafter like to thole
An ether-cap, like him, to blaw the coal:
It sets him well, with vile unscrapit tongue,
To cast up whether I be auld or young;
They're aulder yet than I have married been,
And or they died their bairns' bairns have seen.
_Mause._ That's true; and Bauldy ye was far to blame, }
To ca' Madge ought but her ain christen'd name. }
_Baul._ My lugs, my nose, and noddle finds the same. }
_Mad._ Auld Roudes! filthy fallow; I shall auld ye.
_Mause._ Howt no!--ye'll e'en be friends with honest Bauldy.
Come, come, shake hands; this maun nae farder gae:
Ye maun forgi'e'm. I see the lad looks wae.
_Baul._ In troth now, Mause, I have at Madge nae spite:
But she abusing first, was a' the wite
Of what has happen'd: And should therefore crave
My pardon first, and shall acquittance have.
_Mad._ I crave your pardon! Gallows-face, gae greet,
And own your faut to her that ye wad cheat:
Gae, or be blasted in your health and gear,
'Till ye learn to perform, as well as swear.
Vow, and lowp back!--was e'er the like heard tell?
Swith, tak him deil; he's o'er lang out of hell.
_Baul._ [_running off._] His presence be about us! Curst were he
That were condemn'd for life to live with thee.
[_Exit_ BAULDY.
_Mad._ [_laughing._] I think I've towzl'd his harigalds a wee;
He'll no soon grein to tell his love to me.
He's but a rascal that wad mint to serve
A lassie sae, he does but ill deserve.
_Mause._ Ye towin'd him tightly,--I commend ye for't;
His blooding snout gave me nae little sport:
For this forenoon he had that scant of grace,
And breeding baith,--to tell me to my face,
He hop'd I was a Witch, and wadna stand,
To lend him in this case my helping hand.
_Mad._ A Witch!--How had ye patience this to bear,
And leave him een to see, or lugs to hear?
_Mause._ Auld wither'd hands, and feeble joints like mine,
Obliges fowk resentment to decline;
Till aft 'tis seen, when vigour fails, then we
With cunning can the lake of pith supplie.
Thus I pat aff revenge till it was dark,
Syne bade him come, and we should gang to wark:
I'm sure he'll keep his triste; and I came here
To seek your help, that we the fool may fear.
_Mad._ And special sport we'll have, as I protest;
Ye'll be the Witch, and I shall play the Ghaist;
A linen sheet wond round me like ane dead,
I'll cawk my face, and grane, and shake my head.
We'll fleg him sae, he'll mint nae main to gang
A conjuring, to do a lassie wrang.
_Mause._ Then let us go; for see, 'tis hard on night,
The westlin cloud shines red with setting light.
[_Exeunt._
_ACT IV.--SCENE II._
When birds begin to nod upon the bough,
And the green swaird grows damp with falling dew,
While good Sir William is to rest retir'd,
The Gentle Shepherd tenderly inspir'd,
Walks through the broom with Roger ever leel,
To meet, to comfort Meg, and tak farewell.
PATIE _and_ ROGER.
_Roger._
Wow! but I'm cadgie, and my heart lowps light.
O, Mr. Patrick! ay your thoughts were right:
Sure gentle fowk are farther seen than we,
That nathing ha'e to brag of pedigree.
My Jenny now, wha brak my heart this morn,
Is perfect yielding,--sweet,--and nae mair scorn.
I spake my mind--she heard--I spake again,
She smil'd--I kiss'd--I woo'd, nor woo'd in vain.
_Pat._ I'm glad to hear't--But O my change this day
Heaves up my joy, and yet I'm sometimes wae.
I've found a father, gently kind as brave,
And an estate that lifts me 'boon the lave.
With looks all kindness, words that love confest; }
He all the father to my soul exprest, }
While close he held me to his manly breast. }
Such were the eyes, he said, thus smil'd the mouth
Of thy lov'd mother, blessing of my youth;
Who set too soon!--And while he praise bestow'd,
Adown his graceful cheek a torrent flow'd.
My new-born joys, and this his tender tale,
Did, mingled thus, o'er a' my thoughts prevail:
That speechless lang, my late kend Sire I view'd,
While gushing tears my panting breast bedew'd.
Unusual transports made my head turn round, }
Whilst I myself with rising raptures found }
The happy son of ane sae much renown'd. }
But he has heard!--too faithful Symon's fear
Has brought my love for Peggy to his ear:
Which he forbids.--Ah! this confounds my peace,
While thus to beat, my heart shall sooner cease.
_Rog._ How to advise ye, troth I'm at a stand:
But were't my case, ye'd clear it up aff hand.
_Pat._ Duty, and haflen reason plead his cause:
But what cares love for reason, rules and laws?
Still in my heart my shepherdess excells,
And part of my new happiness repells.
_Or sung as follows._
SANG XVI.--_Tune_, Kirk wad let me be.
_Duty and part of reason
Plead strong on the parent's side,
Which love so superior calls treason;
The strongest must be obey'd:
For now, tho' I'm one of the gentry,
My constancy falshood repells;
For change in my heart has no entry,
Still there my dear_ Peggy _excells._
_Rog._ Enjoy them baith.--Sir William will be won:
Your Peggy's bonny;--you're his only son.
_Pat._ She's mine by vows, and stronger ties of love;
And frae these bands nae change my mind shall move.
I'll wed nane else; thro' life I will be true:
But still obedience is a parent's due.
_Rog._ Is not our master and yoursell to stay
Amang us here?--or are ye gawn away
To London court, or ither far aff parts,
To leave your ain poor us with broken hearts?
_Pat._ To Edinburgh straight to-morrow we advance, }
To London neist, and afterwards to France, }
Where I must stay some years, and learn--to dance, }
And twa three other monky-tricks.--That done,
I come hame struting in my red-heel'd shoon.
Then 'tis design'd, when I can well behave,
That I maun be some petted thing's dull slave,
For some few bags of cash, that I wat weel
I nae mair need nor carts do a third wheel.
But Peggy, dearer to me than my breath,
Sooner than hear sic news, shall hear my death.
_Rog._ _They wha have just enough, can soundly sleep;
The o'ercome only fashes fowk to keep._----
Good Mr. Patrick, tak your ain tale hame. }
_Pat._ What was my morning thought, at night's the same. }
The poor and rich but differ in the name. }
Content's the greatest bliss we can procure
Frae 'boon the lift.--Without it kings are poor.
_Rog._ But an estate like your's yields braw content,
When we but pick it scantly on the bent:
Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, and red wine,
Good chear, and witty friends, whene'er ye dine;
Obeysant servants, honour, wealth and ease:
Wha's no content with these, are ill to please.
_Pat._ Sae Roger thinks, and thinks not far amiss;
But mony a cloud hings hovering o'er the bliss.
The passions rule the roast,--and, if they're sowr,
Like the lean ky, will soon the fat devour.
The spleen, tint honour, and affronted pride,
Stang like the sharpest goads in gentry's side.
The gouts and gravels, and the ill disease,
Are frequentest with fowk o'erlaid with ease;
While o'er the moor the shepherd, with less care,
Enjoys his sober wish, and halesome air.
_Rog._ Lord, man! I wonder ay, and it delights
My heart, whene'er I hearken to your flights.
How gat ye a' that sense, I fain wad lear,
That I may easier disappointments bear?
_Pat._ Frae books, the wale of books, I gat some skill;
These best can teach what's real good and ill.
Ne'er grudge ilk year to ware some stanes of cheese,
To gain these silent friends that ever please.
_Rog._ I'll do't, and ye shall tell me which to buy:
Faith I'se ha'e books, tho' I should sell my ky.
But now let's hear how you're design'd to move,
Between Sir William's will, and Peggy's love?
_Pat._ Then here it lyes;--His will maun be obey'd; }
My vows I'll keep, and she shall be my bride: }
But I some time this last design maun hide. }
Keep you the secret close, and leave me here;
I sent for Peggy, yonder comes my dear.
_Rog._ Pleas'd that ye trust me with the secret, I
To wyle it frae me a' the deils defy. [_Exit_ ROGER.
_Pat._ [_solus._] With what a struggle must I now impart
My father's will to her that hads my heart!
I ken she loves, and her saft saul will sink,
While it stands trembling on the hated brink
Of disappointment.--Heaven! support my fair,
And let her comfort claim your tender care.
Her eyes are red!----
_Enter_ PEGGY.
----My Peggy, why in tears?
Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears:
Tho' I'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I'm thine.
_Peg._ I dare not think sae high: I now repine
At the unhappy chance, that made not me
A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee.
Wha can, withoutten pain, see frae the coast
The ship that bears his all like to be lost?
Like to be carry'd, by some rever's hand,
Far frae his wishes, to some distant land?
_Pat._ Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it with me remains,
To raise thee up, or still attend these plains.
My father has forbid our loves, I own:
But love's superior to a parent's frown.
I falshood hate: Come, kiss thy cares away;
I ken to love, as well as to obey.
Sir William's generous; leave the task to me,
To make strict duty and true love agree.