XXII.

A FABLE.

Ae day a peacock nest I gat,
I put a young ane in my hat,
And took it hame, rejoicing at
My worthy prize,

And laid it by, afore I quat

My thieving guise.

Beside our rantin' cloakin' hen
I put it, there to make a fen,
Amang a cleck o' nine or ten,

In core wi' ither,

And well they 'greed, baith but and ben, For days thegither.

A silly brash at times it teuk,
But aye they friend it like a keuk,
And griped flies, and whiles a clock,
To make amen's,

Till firm it grew like ony duck,
Amang the fens.

But when its tail began to sprout,
Many a leuk it teuk about,

To see the feathers sprouting out,
Sae bonny braw,

And then began to cry and hoot,
And left them a'.

Ae day the restset out to see't

For auld langsyne the way they gree't,
But when they gaed, he on them ee't
Wi' cauld disdain,

And wadna own them, straught nor glee't,
In ony strain.

REMARK.

Early pride begins to shoot,

When wealth is known to be the root,
Even the boy will boast profuse,

Before he can his clothes unloose :
His father's pomp, with care he traces,
And then assumes another species;
An' if fortune gives the splendid coat,
The poor old friend is soon forgot.

XXIII

ANDREW AN' JOCK, OR RURAL COURTSHIP.

Inscribed to Mr William Finlay, Farmer, Pathhead
June 6th, 1806

O! long may pure disinterested love

The lowly walk of rural life adorn!

An' never may their swains licentious rove!
An' never may their maids the bashful scorn!
Dear youthful scenes! tho' from your pleasures torn,
O still as wont my pensive muse inspire;
Beam on my mem'ry mild, as darkling, lorn,

I strike my plaintive, joy-abandon'd lyre,
An' lend each echoing note, grace, energy an' fire!

Young Andrew, wha had lang a wooer been,
Ae day determin'd wi' a cronie dear
To gang at night, an' see his sweetheart Jean,
To tell his love, an' her acceptance hear.
The sun was wearing laigh-the gloaming clear,
Twas summer-time, an' ilka thing in bloom
Made Nature smile -ae single gill did cheer

Our youthfu' cadies, for the purse was toom :
Sae aff they bly thely gaed to woo amang the broom.

His Blackfit Jock, a towzie rattlin' blade,
Was free an' hearty, never fash'd wi' care;
An' tho' enamour'd o' a thrawart maid,
An' aft repuls'd, he never wad despair
Nor was he blate; an easy, manly air,

He wad assume, an' nicely tell his crack;
Her saucie gait an' fauts he didna spare,

Nae lies cou'd he, or ony phrasin' mak',
But what he thought with out consideration spak'.

Scarce had they gane a half-a-mile or sae
Alang the moor, when glowrin' roun' an' roun',
Jock spied the lasses linking owre the lay,
Upon a visit to some neighbour town-
Fu' snodly Jean had on a drugget gown,

Her coat the same, half kiltet to the knee ;
Her hair that wav'd (athwart her haffets) brown,
Obscur❜d the glances o' a modest eie,

An' blythe an' clean she was, frae affectation free.

An' there as handsome, in a dress as plain, Jock's lass (ca'd Nannie) coost her head wi' pride; Her scornfu' brows show'd a' entreatie vain, While thus she tauntingly did Jean deride. "Haste! come awa, or do you mean to bide? "Ken ye the errand that we cam' to do? "I'll go mysel', what nonsense is't," she cried,

Syne turnin' roun', out owre the rigs she flew, Nae doubt expectin' Jock wad keenly her pursue.

What strange politics fill the female mind,

Thus to insult even where affection lies! Aiblins they think to use a lover kind

Wad make them hateful, in that lover's eyes. Yes, some there are, who simple maids entice To be partakers o' their brutal lust,

An' leave them syne, at leisure to grow wise;

For maids such flatteries ere they wed to trust Though the reward be base, who can deny it just ?

Jock stood an' glowr'd, an' chew'd the nail o's thoom, Syne on the swaird he streekit down at ease;

His heart was light, an easily coud soom,

Like a cork bark, upon the stormiest seas.

K

His mind was form'd to answer every breeze,

Nane could be dull that in his presence sat, Weel pleas'd himsel', he ever try'd to please, A furthy turn, a slee enticing chat,

Ay friends enow to him, an' bon companions gat.

Now a' the three sat clav'rin' on the green,
An' Nannie's conduct fairly was discuss't;
In her behalf lang pled the faithfu' Jean,

Even though she own'd to lea' the jilt was just.
Weil Jean, quo Jock, my happiness I trust

Wi' a' your interest you will advance,

Tell her, frae me, that she from henceforth must
Be mair agreeable, else never chance

She'll get frae me again, while Britain fights wi' France.

Jean she agreed, an' said she wadna fail
To search if love in Nannie's bosom lay,
To take a walk wi' her at breakfast meal,

An' hear what she had for hersel' to say.
To-morrow's night, quo she, at close o' day,
Baith you, an' Andrew, if he likes himsel',
May meet me here, or on yon heather-brae,

Whare ilka word, whate'er it be I'll tell; Sae Johnnie, rest content, things yet may turn out well.

Jock thanked her, an' bade them baith guid-night,
An' left them there amang the broom to rowe;

It wasna lang I trow, till out o' sight

They baith were cozie, in a warlock howe !
Aboon their heads did haizle-bushes grow,
There Andrew woo'd wi' simple village-art ;
Till Jean at length confess'd an equal lowe,
An' yielded there to him a virgin heart,
The noblest boon a maid can to her swain impart !