The false one looked for a daintier lot, The constant one wearied me out and out, I set my heart upon travels grand, Hurrah! And spurned our plain old father-land; Nought seemed to be just the thing it should, I set my heart upon sounding fame; Hurrah! And lo! I'm eclipsed by some upstart's name When in public life I loomed quite high, And then I set my heart upon war, We gained some battles with eclat, Hurrah! We troubled the foe with sword and flame, (And some of our friends fared quite the same,) I lost a leg for fame. Now I've set my heart upon nothing, you see; Hurrah! And the whole wide world belongs to me, Hurrah! The feast begins to run low, no doubt, But at the old cask we'll have one good bout; Come drink the lees all out! THE ERL-KING. Who rideth so late through the night-wind wild? It is the father with his child; He has the little one well in his arm; My son, why hidest thy face so shy? "Come, lovely boy, come, go with me; Such merry plays I will play with thee; And my mother has many a gay garment at hand.” My father, my father, and dost thou not hear "Come, lovely boy, wilt thou go with me? My daughters fair shall wait on thee; My daughters their nightly revels keep; They'll sing, and they 'll dance, and they'll rock thee to sleep." My father, my father, and seest thou not The Erl-king's daughters in yon dim spot?— My son, my son, I see and I know, 'Tis the old gray willow that shimmers so. "I love thee; thy beauty has ravished my sense, The father shudders; he hurries on; WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF SEVENTY-SEVEN. When I was nothing but a child, Now, like an old master, I sit in state, And they call me out in street and square; But the pretty children, they keep afar :- A PARABLE.. Poems are colored window glasses! Shrewd Sir Philistine sees things so: Well may he narrow and captious grow, But come now, and inside we 'll go! L ROBERT BURNS. ROBERT BURNS,* eldest son of William Burness and Agnes Brown, his wife, was born 25th of January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage, raised by his father's own hands, on the banks of the Doon, in the district of Kyle and county of Ayr, and about two miles from the town of that name. The season in which this humble structure was reared, was severe and rough: the walls were weak and new; and some days after Robert's birth, a wind arose, which crushed the frail tenement, and the unconscious poet was carried unharmed to the shelter of a neighboring house. He loved, when he grew up, to allude to this circumstance; and ironically claimed some commiseration for the stormy passions of one ushered into the world in a tempest. The rude edifice which we have mentioned is now an alehouse, and belongs to the shoemakers of Ayr; the recess in the wall, where the bed stood in which Burns was born, is pointed out to inquiring guests. The mother of Burns was a native of the county of Ayr. Her birth was humble, and her personal attractions moderate; yet, in all other respects, she was a * When Burns was about twenty-six years old, and had acquired some notoriety as a poet, he first began to write his name Burns, instead of Burness. It is one of the instances of that singularity by which he sought to distinguish himself. |