I wad be laith to rin and chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
And fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve ;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
's a sma' request :
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,
And never miss't!
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin !
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin' :
And naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
And bleak December's winds ensuin,'
Baith snell and keen !
Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste,
And weary winter coming fast;
And cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till, crash the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
5 laith, loath: rin, run
7 man's cruelty to animals
6 pattle, ploughstaff
13 whyles, at times
14 mun, must 15 a corn-ear now and then from a double shock
17 lave, rest
22 foggage, after-grass
24 snell, biting 29 coulter, plough-iron
Now thou's turn'd out for a' thy trouble
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble
And cranreuch cauld!
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane
In proving foresight may be vain :
The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft a-gley,
And lea'e us nought but grief and pain,
For promised joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, och! I backward cast my e'e
On prospects drear!
And forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess and fear.
TURN, turn thy hasty foot aside,
Nor crush that helpless worm !
The frame thy wayward looks deride
Required a God to form.
The common lord of all that move,
From whom thy being flow'd,
A portion of His boundless love
On that poor worm bestow'd.
The sun, the moon, the stars, He made
For all His creatures free;
And spread o'er earth the grassy blade,
For worms as well as thee.
34 but hald, without dwelling-place
36 cranreuch, hoarfrost
37 thy lane, alone 41 lea'e, leave
Let them enjoy their little day,
Their humble bliss receive;
O! do not lightly take away
The life thou canst not give !
THE GIRL DESCRIBES HER FAWN
WITH Sweetest milk and sugar first
I it at my own fingers nursed;
And as it grew, so every day
It wax'd more white and sweet than they-:
It had so sweet a breath! and oft
I blush'd to see its foot more soft
And white, shall I say,—than my hand?
Nay, any lady's of the land!
It is a wondrous thing how fleet
'Twas on those little silver feet :
With what a pretty skipping grace
It oft would challenge me the race :-
And when 't had left me far away
'Twould stay, and run again, and stay :
For it was nimbler much than hinds,
And trod as if on the four winds.
I have a garden of my own,
But so with roses overgrown
And lilies, that you would it guess
To be a little wilderness:
And all the spring-time of the year
It only loved to be there.
Among the beds of lilies I
Have sought it oft, where it should lie ;
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it, although before mine eyes :-
For in the flaxen lilies' shade
It like a bank of lilies laid.
Upon the roses it would feed,
Until its lips e'en seem'd to bleed:
And then to me 'twould boldly trip,
And print those roses on my lip.
But all its chief delight was still
On roses thus itself to fill,
And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold :-
Had it lived long, it would have been
Lilies without,-roses within.
HENRY was every morning fed
With a full mess of milk and bread.
One day the boy his breakfast took,
And ate it by a purling brook.
His mother lets him have his way.
With free leave Henry every day
Thither repairs, until she heard
Him talking of a fine gray bird.
This pretty bird, he said, indeed,
Came every day with him to feed ;
And it loved him and loved his milk,
And it was smooth and soft like silk.
-On the next morn she follows Harry,
And carefully she sees him carry
Through the long grass his heap'd-up mess.
What was her terror and distress
When she saw the infant take
His bread and milk close to a snake!
Upon the grass he spreads his feast,
And sits down by his frightful guest,
Who had waited for the treat;
And now they both began to eat.
Fond mother! shriek not, O beware
The least small noise, O have a care-
The least small noise that may be made
The wily snake will be afraid—
If he hear the slightest sound,
He will inflict th' envenom'd wound.
-She speaks not, moves not, scarce does breathe,
As she stands the trees beneath.
No sound she utters; and she soon
Sees the child lift up his spoon,
And tap the snake upon the head,
Fearless of harm; and then he said,
As speaking to familiar mate,
Keep on your own side, do, Gray Pate;'
The snake then to the other side,
As one rebuked, seems to glide;
And now again advancing nigh,
Again she hears the infant cry,
Tapping the snake, ' Keep further, do ;
'Mind, Gray Pate, what I say to you.'
The danger's o'er! she sees the boy
(O what a change from fear to joy !)
Rise and bid the snake 'Good-bye';
Says he, 'Our breakfast's done, and I
'Will come again to-morrow day';
-Then, lightly tripping, ran away.
THE TRAVELLER'S RETURN
SWEET to the morning traveller
The song amid the sky,
Where, twinkling in the dewy light,
The skylark soars on high.
|