Part 9

_Pat._ I'm sure I canna change, ye needna fear; Tho' we're but young, I've loo'd you mony a year. I mind it well, when thou cou'd'st hardly gang, Or lisp out words, I choos'd ye frae the thrang Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand, Aft to the Tansy-know or Rashy-strand. Thou smiling by my side,--I took delite, To pu' the rashes green, with roots sae white, Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd, For thee I plet the flowry belt and snood.

_Peg._ When first thou gade with shepherds to the hill, And I to milk the ews first try'd my skill; To bear a leglen was nae toil to me, When at the bught at e'en I met with thee.

_Pat._ When corns grew yellow, and the hether-bells Bloom'd bonny on the moor and rising fells, Nae birns, or briers, or whins e'er troubled me, Gif I cou'd find blae berries ripe for thee.

_Peg._ When thou didst wrestle, run, or putt the stane, And wan the day, my heart was flightering fain: At all these sports thou still gave joy to me; For nane can wrestle, run, or putt with thee.

_Pat._ Jenny sings saft the _Broom of Cowden-knows_, And Rosie lilts the _Milking of the Ews_; There's nane like Nansie, _Jenny Nettles_ sings; At turns in _Maggy Lauder_ Marion dings: But when my Peggy sings, with sweeter skill, The _Boat-man_, or the _Lass of Patie's Mill_; It is a thousand times mair sweet to me: Tho' they sing well, they canna sing like thee.

_Peg._ How eith can lasses trow what they desire! And roos'd by them we love, blaws up that fire: But wha loves best, let time and carriage try; Be constant, and my love shall time defy. Be still as now, and a' my care shall be, How to contrive what pleasant is for thee.

_The foregoing, with a small variation, was sung at the acting, as follows._

SANG X.--_Tune_, The Yellow-hair'd Laddie.

PEGGY.

_When first my dear laddie gade to the green hill, And I at ew-milking first sey'd my young skill, To bear the milk-bowie, nae pain was to me, When I at the bughting forgather'd with thee._

PATIE.

_When corn-riggs wav'd yellow, and blue hether-bells Bloom'd bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells, Nae birns, briers, or breckens gave trouble to me, If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee._

PEGGY.

_When thou ran, or wrestled, or putted the stane, And came aff the victor, my heart was ay fain; Thy ilka sport manly gave pleasure to me; For nane can putt, wrestle, or run swift as thee._

PATIE.

_Our_ Jenny _sings saftly the_ Cowden Broom-knows, _And_ Rosie _lilts sweetly the_ Milking the Ews; _There's few_ Jenny Nettles _like_ Nansie _can sing; At_ Throw the Wood Laddie, Bess _gars our lugs ring. But when my dear_ Peggy _sings with better skill, The_ Boat-man, Tweed-side, _or the_ Lass of the Mill, _'Tis many times sweeter and pleasing to me; For tho' they sing nicely, they cannot like thee._

PEGGY.

_How easy can lasses trow what they desire! And praises sae kindly encreases love's fire: Give me still this pleasure, my study shall be, To make myself better and sweeter for thee._

_Pat._ Wert thou a giglit gawky like the lave, That little better than our nowt behave; At nought they'll ferly;--senseless tales believe; Be blyth for silly heghts, for trifles grieve:-- Sic ne'er you'd win my heart, that kenna how, Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true. But thou, in better sense, without a flaw, As in thy beauty, far excels them a', Continue kind; and a' my care shall be, How to contrive what pleasing is for thee.

_Peg._ Agreed;--but harken! yon's auld aunty's cry; I ken they'll wonder what can make us stay.

_Pat._ And let them ferly.--Now, a kindly kiss, Or five score good anes wad not be amiss; And syne we'll sing the sang with tunefu' glee, That I made up last owk on you and me.

_Peg._ Sing first, syne claim your hire.--

_Pat._----Well, I agree.

SANG XI.--To its own Tune.

PATIE sings.

_By the delicious warmness of thy mouth, And rowing eyes that smiling tell the truth,_ _I guess, my lassie, that as well as I, You're made for love; and why should ye deny?_

PEGGY sings.

_But ken ye, lad, gin we confess o'er soon, Ye think us cheap, and syne the wooing's done? The maiden that o'er quickly tines her power, Like unripe fruit, will taste but hard and sowr._

PATIE sings.

_But gin they hing o'er lang upon the tree, Their sweetness they may tine; and sae may ye. Red checked you completely ripe appear; And I have thol'd and woo'd a lang haff year._

PEGGY singing, falls into PATIE'S arms.

_Then dinna pu' me, gently thus I fa' Into my_ Patie's _arms, for good and a'. But stint your wishes to this kind embrace; And mint nae farther till we've got the grace._

PATIE, with his left hand about her waste.

_O charming armfu'! hence ye cares away! I'll kiss my treasure a' the live-lang day; All night I'll dream my kisses o'er again, Till that day come that ye'll be a' my ain._

Sung by both.

_Sun, gallop down the westlin skies, Gang soon to bed, and quickly rise; O lash your steeds, post time away, And haste about our bridal day: And if ye're wearied, honest light, Sleep, gin ye like, a week that night._

[_Exeunt._

End of the SECOND ACT.

ACT THIRD.

_SCENE I._

Now turn your eyes beyond yon spreading lime, And tent a man whase beard seems bleech'd with time; An elvand fills his hand, his habit mean: Nae doubt ye'll think he has a pedlar been. But whisht! it is the knight in masquerade, That comes hid in this cloud to see his lad. Observe how pleas'd the loyal sufferer moves Thro' his auld av'news, anes delightfu' groves.

SIR WILLIAM _solus_.

The gentleman thus hid in low disguise, I'll for a space unknown delight mine eyes, With a full view of every fertile plain, Which once I lost,--which now are mine again. Yet 'midst my joys, some prospects pain renew, Whilst I my once fair seat in ruins view. Yonder, ah me! it desolately stands, Without a roof; the gates faln from their bands; The casements all broke down; no chimney left; The naked walls of tap'stry all bereft: My stables and pavilions, broken walls! That with each rainy blast decaying falls: My gardens, once adorn'd the most compleat, With all that nature, all that art makes sweet; Where, round the figur'd green, and peeble walks, The dewy flowers hung nodding on their stalks: But, overgrown with nettles, docks and brier, No jaccacinths or eglintines appear. How do those ample walls to ruin yield, Where peach and nect'rine branches found a beild, And bask'd in rays, which early did produce Fruit fair to view, delightfu' in the use! All round in gaps, the most in rubbish ly, And from what stands the wither'd branches fly. These soon shall be repair'd:--And now my joy Forbids all grief,--when I'm to see my Boy, My only prop, and object of my care, Since Heaven too soon call'd hame his Mother fair. Him, ere the rays of reason clear'd his thought, I secretly to faithful Symon brought, And charg'd him strictly to conceal his birth, 'Till we should see what changing times brought forth. Hid from himself, he starts up by the dawn, And ranges careless o'er the height and lawn, After his fleecy charge, serenely gay, With other shepherds whistling o'er the day. Thrice happy life! that's from ambition free; Remov'd from crowns and courts, how chearfully A quiet contented mortal spends his time In hearty health, his soul unstain'd with crime!

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XII.--_Tune_, Happy Clown.

_Hid from himself, now by the dawn, He starts as fresh as roses blawn; And ranges o'er the heights and lawn, After his bleeting flocks. Healthful, and innocently gay, He chants and whistles out the day; Untaught to smile, and then betray, Like courtly weathercocks._

_Life happy, from ambition free, Envy, and vile hypocrisie, Where truth and love with joy agree, Unsully'd with a crime: Unmov'd with what disturbs the great, In propping of their pride and state, He lives, and unafraid of fate, Contented spends his time._

Now tow'rds good Symon's house I'll bend my way, And see what makes yon gamboling to day, All on the green, in a fair wanton ring, My youthful tenants gayly dance and sing. [_Exit._

_ACT III.--SCENE II._

'Tis Symon's house, please to step in, And vissy't round and round; There's nought superfluous to give pain, Or costly to be found. Yet all is clean: a clear peat-ingle Glances amidst the floor; The green-horn spoons, beech-luggies mingle, On skelfs foregainst the door. While the young brood sport on the green, The auld anes think it best, With the Brown Cow to clear their een, Snuff, crack, and take their rest.

SYMON, GLAUD, _and_ ELSPA.

_Glaud._

We anes were young our sells--I like to see The bairns bob round with other merrilie. Troth, Symon, Patie's grown a strapan lad, And better looks than his I never bade. Amang our lads, he bears the gree awa', And tells his tale the cleverest of them a'.

_Els._ Poor man!--he's a great comfort to us baith: God mak him good, and hide him ay frae skaith. He is a bairn, I'll say't, well worth our care, That ga'e us ne'er vexation late or air.

_Glaud._ I trow, goodwife, if I be not mistane, } He seems to be with Peggy's beauty tane, } And troth, my niece is a right dainty we'an, } As ye well ken: a bonnier needna be, Nor better,--be't she were nae kin to me.

_Sym._ Ha! Glaud, I doubt that ne'er will be a match My Patie's wild, and will be ill to catch: And or he were, for reasons I'll no tell, I'd rather be mixt with the mools my sell.

_Glaud._ What reason can ye have? There's nane, I'm sure, Unless ye may cast up that she's but poor: But gif the lassie marry to my mind, I'll be to her as my ain Jenny kind. Fourscore of breeding ews of my ain birn, Five ky that at ae milking fills a kirn, I'll gi'e to Peggy that day she's a bride; By and attour, gif my good luck abide, Ten lambs at spaining-time, as lang's I live, And twa quey cawfs I'll yearly to them give.

_Els._ Ye offer fair, kind Glaud; but dinna speer What may be is not fit ye yet should hear.

_Sym._ Or this day eight days likely he shall learn, That our denial disna slight his bairn.

_Glaud._ Well, nae mair o't,--come, gie's the other bend; We'll drink their healths, whatever way it end.

[_Their healths gae round._

_Sym._ But will ye tell me, Glaud,--by some 'tis said, Your niece is but a Fundling that was laid Down at your hallon-side, ae morn in May, Right clean row'd up, and bedded on dry hay?

_Glaud._ That clatteran Madge, my titty, tells sic flaws, When e'er our Meg her cankart humour gaws.

_Enter_ JENNY.

_Jen._ O father! there's an auld man on the green, The fellest fortune-teller e'er was seen: He tents our loofs, and syne whops out a book, Turns o'er the leaves, and gie's our brows a look; Syne tells the oddest tales that e'er ye heard. His head is gray, and lang and gray his beard.

_Sym._ Gae bring him in; we'll hear what he can say: Nane shall gang hungry by my house to day.

[_Exit_ JENNY.

But for his telling fortunes, troth I fear, He kens nae mair of that than my gray mare.

_Glaud._ Spae-men! the truth of a' their saws I doubt; For greater liars never ran there out.

_Returns_ JENNY, _bringing in_ SIR WILLIAM; _with them_ PATIE.

_Sym._ Ye're welcome, honest carle;--here take a seat.

_Sir Will._ I give ye thanks, Goodman; I'se no be blate.

_Glaud._ [_drinks._] Come t'ye, friend:--How far came ye the day?

_Sir Will._ I pledge ye, nibour:--E'en but little way: Rousted with eild, a wee piece gate seems lang; Twa miles or three's the maist that I dow gang.

_Sym._ Ye're welcome here to stay all night with me, And take sic bed and board as we can gi' ye.

_Sir Will._ That's kind unsought.--Well, gin ye have a bairn That ye like well, and wad his fortune learn, I shall employ the farthest of my skill, To spae it faithfully, be't good or ill.

_Sym._ [_pointing to Patie._] Only that lad;--alake! I have nae mae, Either to make me joyful now, or wae.

_Sir Will._ Young man, let's see your hand;--what gars ye sneer?

_Pat._ Because your skill's but little worth I fear.

_Sir Will._ Ye cut before the point.--But, billy, bide, I'll wager there's a mouse mark on your side.

_Els._ Betooch-us-to! and well I wat that's true: Awa, awa! the deil's o'er grit wi' you. Four inch aneath his oxter is the mark, Scarce ever seen since he first wore a sark.

_Sir Will._ I'll tell ye mair, if this young lad be spar'd But a short while, he'll be a braw rich laird.

_Els._ A laird! Hear ye, Goodman!--what think ye now?

_Sym._ I dinna ken: Strange auld man! What art thou? Fair fa' your heart; 'tis good to bode of wealth: Come turn the timmer to laird Patie's health.

[PATIE'S _health gaes round_.

_Pat._ A laird of twa good whistles, and a kent, Twa curs, my trusty tenants, on the bent, Is all my great estate--and like to be: Sae, cunning carle, ne'er break your jokes on me.

_Sym._ Whisht, Patie,--let the man look o'er your hand, Aftimes as broken a ship has come to land.

[SIR WILLIAM _looks a little at_ PATIE'S _hand, then counterfeits falling into a trance, while they endeavour to lay him right_.]

_Els._ Preserve's!--the man's a warlock, or possest With some nae good,--or second sight, at least: Where is he now?----

_Glaud._ ----He's seeing a' that's done In ilka place, beneath or yont the moon.

_Els._ These second sighted fowk, his peace be here! See things far aff, and things to come, as clear As I can see my thumb.--Wow, can he tell (Speer at him, soon as he comes to himsell) How soon we'll see Sir William? Whisht, he heaves, And speaks out broken words like ane that raves.

_Sym._ He'll soon grow better;--Elspa, haste ye, gae, And fill him up a tass of Usquebae.

_Sir_ WILLIAM _starts up, and speaks_.

A Knight that for a _Lyon_ fought, Against a herd of bears, Was to lang toil and trouble brought, In which some thousands shares.

But now again the _Lyon_ rares, And joy spreads o'er the plain: The _Lyon_ has defeat the bears, The Knight returns again.

That Knight, in a few days, shall bring A Shepherd frae the fauld, And shall present him to his King, A subject true and bauld.

He Mr. Patrick shall be call'd: All you that hear me now, May well believe what I have tald; For it shall happen true.

_Sym._ Friend, may your spaeing happen soon and weel; But, faith, I'm redd you've bargain'd with the deil, To tell some tales that fowks wad secret keep: Or do ye get them tald you in your sleep?

_Sir Will._ Howe'er I get them, never fash your beard; Nor come I to redd fortunes for reward: But I'll lay ten to ane with ony here, That all I prophesy shall soon appear.

_Sym._ You prophesying fowks are odd kind men! They're here that ken, and here that disna ken, The wimpled meaning of your unco tale, Whilk soon will mak a noise o'er moor and dale.

_Glaud._ 'Tis nae sma' sport to hear how Sym believes, And takes't for gospel what the spae-man gives Of flawing fortunes, whilk he evens to Pate: But what we wish, we trow at ony rate.

_Sir Will._ Whisht, doubtfu' carle: for ere the sun Has driven twice down to the sea, What I have said ye shall see done In part, or nae mair credit me.

_Glaud._ Well, be't sae, friend, I shall say nathing mair; But I've twa sonsy lasses young and fair, Plump ripe for men: I wish ye cou'd foresee Sic fortunes for them might prove joy to me.

_Sir Will._ Nae mair thro' secrets can I sift, Till darkness black the bent: I have but anes a day that gift; Sae rest a while content.

_Sym._ Elspa, cast on the claith, fetch butt some meat, And, of your best, gar this auld stranger eat.

_Sir Will._ Delay a while your hospitable care; I'd rather enjoy this evening calm and fair, Around yon ruin'd tower, to fetch a walk With you, kind friend, to have some private talk.

_Sym._ Soon as you please I'll answer your desire:-- And, Glaud, you'll take your pipe beside the fire; We'll but gae round the Place, and soon be back, Syne sup together, and tak our pint, and crack.

_Glaud._ I'll out a while, and see the young anes play. My heart's still light, abeit my locks be gray.

[_Exeunt._

_ACT III.--SCENE III._

Jenny pretends an errand hame, Young Roger draps the rest, To whisper out his melting flame, And thow his lassie's breast.. Behind a bush, well hid frae sight, they meet: See Jenny's laughing; Roger's like to greet. Poor Shepherd!

ROGER _and_ JENNY.

_Roger._

Dear Jenny, I wad speak to ye, wad ye let; And yet I ergh, ye're ay sae scornfu' set.

_Jen._ And what would Roger say, if he could speak? Am I oblig'd to guess what ye're to seek?

_Rog._ Yes, ye may guess right eith for what I grein, Baith by my service, sighs, and langing een. And I maun out wi't, tho' I risk your scorn; Ye're never frae my thoughts baith ev'n and morn. Ah! cou'd I loo ye less, I'd happy be; But happier far, cou'd ye but fancy me.

_Jen._ And wha kens, honest lad, but that I may; Ye canna say that e'er I said ye nay.

_Rog._ Alake! my frighted heart begins to fail, When e'er I mint to tell ye out my tale, For fear some tighter lad, mair rich than I, Has win your love, and near your heart may ly.

_Jen._ I loo my father, cousin Meg I love; But to this day, nae man my mind could move: Except my kin, ilk lad's alike to me; And frae ye all I best had keep me free.

_Rog._ How lang, dear Jenny?--Sayna that again; What pleasure can ye tak in giving pain? I'm glad, however, that ye yet stand free: Wha kens but ye may rue, and pity me?

_Jen._ Ye have my pity else, to see ye set 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?