A Sunday Pastoral.

                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                     
                     
Good morning, Keatie—Fie, for shame,1
                           
                           To sleep sae lang ye’re sair to blame :2
                           
                           Then at your glass to smile an’ smirk,3
                           
                           An’ be the hindmost at the kirk !4
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Ay, ’tis o’er true—O, wae’s my heart
                                  !5
                           
                           An’ to reprove is weel your part ;6
                           
                           Your neighbours o’ their faults to tell,7
                           
                           When ye’re sae early there yoursell !8
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Ah, cunning Kate !  I ken your way,9
                           
                           An’ darena wrangle w’ ye the day ;10
                           
                           For ye’re sae tart when ye begin,11
                           
                           Ye lead ane into words o’ sin.12
                           
                           An’ now, when we hae met thegither,13
                           
                           An’ like sae weel to be wi’ ither,14
                           
                           Let’s chat, without a’ taunts or scorning,15
                           
                           O’ things befitting Sabbath morning.16
                           
                           I am o’er late, an’ sair to blame—17
                           
                           But, O, I’ve sic a charge at hame !18
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Nae doubt, nae doubt !  ’Tis a’ o’er true,—19
                           
                           Naebody else has aught to do ;20
                           
                           Ilk turn to Colin’s hand maun lie,21
                           
                           The lasses a’ to court forbye !22
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Now, Kate, I canna stand sic joking,23
                           
                           There’s nought on earth is sae provoking ;24
                           
                           When weel ye ken I never parl25
                           
                           Either to kiss, or court, or quarrel,26
                           
                           Or sit me down to mince or mell27
                           
                           Wi’ ony lass except yoursell.28
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Alas !  poor lad, ye’re sair abused
                                    then,29
                           
                           An’ fausely, wickedly accused then ;30
                           
                           Sic tales are through the country fleeing !—31
                           
                           But then the country’s ill for leeing.32
                           
                           It wasna true that Meg M‘Gill33
                           
                           Cam greeting to you on the hill ?34
                           
                           I heard sic story, an’ the cause o’t.35
                           
                           It wasna true ;— I’m sure it was not ?36
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     ’Tis hard on twall. Good morning, Kate
                                  ;37
                           
                           I hate at preachings to be late ;38
                           
                           Besides, it’s sinfu’ to get mad
                                 39
                           
                           At sic a alee wicked jade.40
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Colin, I’ll gang as fast as you41
                           
                           On this fine day, and faster too ;42
                           
                           Besides, I’ll chat of what you will,43
                           
                           The Bible, or the Papish bill ;44
                           
                           The statutes of the ancient law,45
                           
                           Or beauties of Queen Bathsheba.46
                           
                           Now, tell me, Colin, on your life,47
                           
                           What think you o’ that winsome wife ?48
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Kate, ye’re a witch—sae haud your tongue
                                  ;49
                           
                           An elf sae wicked, yet sae young,50
                           
                           Was never nursed on mother’s knee—51
                           
                           What are Bathsheba’s faults to me ?52
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                     
                     O, nought to you !  Wha said they were
                                  ?53
                           
                           I only wanted to prefer54
                           
                           Some Scripture argument ’bout sing55
                           
                           And chanced with woman to begin.56
                           
                           
But, Colin, ’tis right strange o’ you,57
                           
                           Yet I hae noted, an’ ’tis true,58
                           
                           Whene’er o’ womankind I hint,59
                           
                           Then up you flee like fire frae flint,—60
                           
                           Frae whilk it weel might understood be,61
                           
                           That things are no just as they should be.62
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Sweet Kate !  wi’ that provokin’ tongue63
                           
                           My heart wi’ rage is aften wrung,64
                           
                           But when I turn me round, an’ see65
                           
                           The wily twinkle o’ your ee,66
                           
                           The cherry cheek an’ dimpled chin,67
                           
                           My heart-strings dirl my breast within.68
                           
                           Kate, I suspect, that, chance what may,69
                           
                           We’ll hardly reach the kirk the day ;70
                           
                           We wad be blamed by matrons dour,71
                           
                           Gaun in at sic a daftlike hour,72
                           
                           An’ some auld maids I ken beside73
                           
                           Wad cast us looks we coudna bide.74
                           
                           Let’s turn, an’ up beneath the heuch75
                           
                           O’ the wild glen o’ Gilmanscleuch ;76
                           
                           We’ll spend, in nature’s green alcove,77
                           
                           The day in pure delights of love ;78
                           
                           Read on our Bibles, pray bedeen,79
                           
                           An’ maybe steal a kiss between.80
                           
                           If there’s a blink o’ heavenly bliss81
                           
                           On human nature, it is this.82
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Weel, Colin, I shall not gainsay,83
                           
                           A wilfu’ man maun hae his way ;84
                           
                           Since ye propose’t, an’ think nae shame,85
                           
                           If ’tis a sin, ye’ll bear the blame.86
                           
                           But tell me this—though gay an’ braw,87
                           
                           War ye gaun to the kirk ava ?88
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                     
                     Whisht, Kate !  an’ speer nae that again,—89
                           
                           There’s maybe mae to blame than ane ;90
                           
                           There are some things ’tween man and maid91
                           
                           Mair natural to be thought than said ;92
                           
                           But now, our resting-place is here,93
                           
                           Come to my side, my comely dear,94
                           
                           Close to my side, nor ance avert95
                           
                           The vision dearest to my heart.96
                           
                           Look round you, Kate ;  the scene you see97
                           
                           Is wild as mountain scene can be ;98
                           
                           Here sit we in a hollow swarth,99
                           
                           Scoop’d from the bosom o’ the earth ;100
                           
                           Our palace-wall the shaggy fell ;101
                           
                           Our couch of state the heather-bell ;102
                           
                           The sounding rivulet, combined103
                           
                           With music of the mountain wind,104
                           
                           The only anthem which we list ;105
                           
                           Our canopy the yielding mist ;106
                           
                           Yet here, within our desert den,107
                           
                           Far frae the walks and eyes of men,108
                           
                           Think o’ our heavenly Maker’s kindness,109
                           
                           For a’ our sins an’ mortal blindness.110
                           
                           Beyond the bliss o’ kingly bowers111
                           
                           An earthly happiness is ours.112
                           O, Keatie, when this scene I spy,113
                           
                           Imbedded in thy deep blue eye114
                           
                           Like a wee vision o’ the mind,115
                           
                           A dream of heaven an’ earth combined,116
                           
                           My ardent soul is all on flame117
                           
                           With a delight that wants a name—118
                           
                           
A flame so holy an’ divine,119
                           
                           An angel’s heart might envy mine.120
                           
                           My own rapt image, too, I see,121
                           
                           As if I stood ’twixt heaven and: thee—122
                           
                           Forbid it, a’ ye powers above !123
                           
                           An’ O, forgie this tear o’ love ;124
                           
                           For ne’er was vision so complete125
                           
                           In window of a soul so sweet.126
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Colin, I like nae sic pathetics ;127
                           
                           When chaps get into their poetics,128
                           
                           They rave on like the winter winds,129
                           
                           An’ mischief whiles comes in their minds :130
                           
                           Sae, that I still may haud you dear,131
                           
                           Aw’ keep you sober and sincere,132
                           
                           Kneel down upon that purple lea,133
                           
                           An’ pray to God for you an’ me—134
                           
                           The path o’ grace has a beginning,135
                           
                           An’ praying winna gang wi’ sinning ;136
                           
                           ’Tis sweet an’ comely to express137
                           
                           Our homage in the wilderness,138
                           
                           An’ train our youthfu’ minds away139
                           
                           Frae courting on the Sabbath day.140
                           Colin, without another word,141
                        
                        Kneel’d down upon the lonely sward,142
                        
                        His comely face turn’d to the sky,143
                        
                        With ardour in his dark blue eye;144
                        
                        And thus unto his God he pray’d,145
                        
                        As near as’t can in rhyme be said :146
                        
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                     
                     O thou, who dwell’st beyond yon sun
                                  !147
                           
                           Where the sinful soul can never won ;148
                           
                           Thou God of all beings on earth that dwell,149
                           
                           The angels of heaven, an’ spirits of hell—150
                           
                           O !  wilt thou deign, in thy love divine,151
                           
                           To list to such a prayer as mine ?152
                           
                           Not for myself do I crave thine ear,153
                           
                           But for one beside, than life more dear ;154
                           
                           And for her sake I heard shall be,155
                           
                           For a virgin’s soul is dear to thee.156
                           
                           Then thou, who reared’st yon ample sky,157
                           
                           And planted the Paradise on high,158
                           
                           When the morning stars together sung,159
                           
                           And its arch with hymns of angels rung ;160
                           
                           Who placed the sun on his golden throne,161
                           
                           His God’s vicegerent, and His alone ;162
                           
                           Who clothed the moon in her silver veil,163
                           
                           And the litile stars in their diamond mail ;164
                           
                           Who wall’d the ocean’s mighty wave,165
                           
                           O’er coral beds to roll and rave ;166
                           
                           And form’d these mountains, great and small,167
                           
                           And the soul of man, the last of all—168
                           
                           O, hear in heaven, most graciously,169
                           
                           For we had our lives and souls from thee !170
                           O thou, who laid’st thine infant head171
                           
                           In a manger for thy cradle bed,172
                           
                           When the spirits of guilt were moved with awe,173
                           
                           And the angels marvell’d at what they saw—174
                           
                           The babe of heaven hush’d to his rest175
                           
                           Upon an earthly virgin’s breast,176
                           
                           Then yield his life. upon the tree,177
                           
                           And lie in the grave for such as me—178
                           
                           
O hear us in heaven, thou holy one !179
                           
                           For in thy merits we trust alone ! 180
                           
                           Thou spirit of grace, adored, believed,181
                           
                           Great messenger all unconceived ;182
                           
                           Thou three in one, and
                                 one in three, 183
                           
                           Potent, supreme Divinity,184
                           
                           As one great God we worship thee !185
                           
                           Then hear our prayers whilst here we live,186
                           
                           And when thou hearest, Lord forgive !187
                           We have no earthly thing to crave
                                  ;188
                           
                           We are more than happy with what we have :—189
                           
                           We have youth and health, and love beside,190
                           
                           And thee for our father and our guide ;191
                           
                           Thy own blue heavens smiling o’er us ;192
                           
                           Religion, hope, and the world before us ;193
                           
                           And all we can do, is to express194
                           
                           Our gratitude and our thankfulness,195
                           
                           One blessing would earthly hope fulfil,196
                           
                           If ’tis accordant with thy will :—197
                           
                           May we two, kneeling thee before,198
                           
                           Be join’d as one for evermore !199
                           
                           And that a prospect may remain200
                           
                           Of acting earthly scenes again,201
                           
                           May she be as a fruitful vine——202
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Stop, Colin, stop !  I canna join !203
                           
                           Ye may pray for marriage gin ye will,204
                           
                           To think of that can do nae ill ;205
                           
                           Its sinless joys our God will grant them—206
                           
                           We’ll pray for bairnies when we want them.207
                           
                           Ye cou’dna ask for aught that’s worse,208
                           
                           Than the heaviest portion o’ woman’s curse.209
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Ah, my dear Kate !  gin ye be spared,210
                           
                           You’ll change your chime on that award.211
                           
                           If pure affection’s from above,212
                           
                           If  “ love is heaven, and heaven is love,”213
                           
                           If loveliness conceived may be,214
                           
                           Can ye a sight so lovely see,215
                           
                           As a young comely mother’s rest,216
                           
                           With sweet babe to her bosom press’d ;217
                           
                           Its round and chubby cheek laid low,218
                           
                           Misshapen on her breast of snow ?219
                           
                           Ah, Kate !  if pure, unmingled bliss220
                           
                           Be found in life’s imperfectness,221
                           
                           All love, all fondness is outdone222
                           
                           By mother’s o’er her first-born son :223
                           
                           That glow is bright, its workings kind,224
                           
                           Calm, chasten’d, ardent, yet refined,225
                           
                           I think—O !  may I be forgiven—226
                           
                           That nought can lovelier be in heaven,227
                           
                           Far less by es the earth below ;228
                           
                           Methinks I see the visions now——229
                           What, Keatie, do ye rue our meeting
                                  ?230
                           
                           I think ye’re fuffing now, an’ greeting ?231
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Tuts !  what for will ye speak sae queer,232
                           
                           Of things unmeet for maiden’s ear ?233
                           
                           I canna bide that stuff sae sensuous,234
                           
                           It sounds like something that’s licentious :235
                           
                           Yet these are truths the heart that strike——236
                           
                           Ye may pray for babies gin ye like,237
                           
                        Colin.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                     
                     Ha, Keatie! truth will aye bear sway,238
                           
                           An’ nature work in her ain way,239
                           
                           
For ye are nature’s child complete,240
                           
                           A mountain rose unsoil’d an’ sweet,241
                           
                           A gem the desert that perfumes,242
                           
                           A flower that hardly kens it blooms.243
                           
                           When we grow auld, an’ bow’d wi’ age,244
                           
                           We’ll make an yearly pilgrimage245
                           
                           Unto this wild an’ lonely scene,246
                           
                           An’ greet o’er days lang past an’ gane,247
                           
                           ’Twill mind me of thy guileless heart,248
                           
                           Of what remains and what thou wert,—249
                           
                           And I’ll think of a day of bliss,250
                           
                           And maiden made to love an’ kiss,251
                           
                           Wha aince gart me the preaching miss :252
                           
                           An’ waur than that; when her behest253
                           
                           A solemn task had on me press’d,254
                           
                           She flew up wi’ a wicked screed,255
                           
                           An’ pat a’ praying frae my head.256
                           
                        Kate.
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                        
                           
                           
                        
                     
                     Here, with the tear drap in my ee,257
                           
                           Colin, I beg you’ll pardon me.258
                           
                           I did amiss, ’mang passions rife,259
                           
                           But could not help it for my life.260
                           
                           In my reproof, though scarce ye’ll trow,261
                           
                           I was at least sincere as you.262
                           
                           And now I beg of me you’ll take263
                           
                           This book, an’ keep it for my sake ;264
                           
                           It was my honour’d father’s gift265
                           
                           That day when I our cottage left,266
                           
                           With bitter grief, and youthfu’ dread,267
                           
                           In the wide world to earn my bread.268
                           
                           “ My bairn,” quo’ he,  “ ye’re gaun to leave me;269
                           
                           I hope through life you’ll never grieve me,270
                           
                           If ever sin your fancy brook,271
                           
                           Think on the Author of this book—272
                           
                           Think how he reads the heart within,273
                           
                           And grieves if you should yield to sin.274
                           
                           An’ think o’ your old father too,275
                           
                           And how his soul yearns over you.276
                           
                           An’ O, my bairn, when I am dead,277
                           
                           Cling to this blessed book, an’ read278
                           
                           Its holy precepts when you may,279
                           
                           An’ God will give you grace to pray,280
                           
                           To pray in purity of heart.281
                           
                           Farewell, my bairn, since we maun part !”282
                           Now, Colin, as my sole director,283
                           
                           My trusted, generous protector,284
                           
                           Here do I render up to thee285
                           
                           The charge of baith my book an’ me,286
                           
                           And ne’er again, by it I swear,287
                           
                           ’Twixt you and heaven to interfere.288
                           
                           Accept, dear Colin, the propine,289
                           
                           An’ O forgie the heart that’s thine !290
                           He took the book, an’ first he kiss’d291
                        
                        The donor, then the volume bless’d,292
                        
                        An’ hid it in his bosom true,293
                        
                        While on his eyelids stood the dew ;294
                        
                        Then hand in hand they trode the brae295
                        
                        That looks o’er Ettrick’s wilder’d way,296
                        
                        An’ parted on the mountain green,297
                        
                        Far happier than a king an’ queen.298