Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, 130 The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : How he, who lone in Patmos banishéd, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand; And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command. 135 Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing," 66 That thus they all shall meet in future days : There ever bask in uncreated rays, 140 No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride, 145 In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; 150 But haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul; And in his Book of Life the inmates poor enrol. Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way; 155 The parent-pair their secret homage pay, And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request, That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, 160 For them and for their little ones provide ; From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 66 An honest man's the noblest work of God: " O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 165 170 Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! 175 And, Oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile; Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. 180 O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart; Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O never, never, Scotia's realm desert, But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! 185 TAM O'SHANTER. A TALE Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke. GAWIN DOUGLAS. WHEN chapman billies leave the street, As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! 5 IO 15 20 25 That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, She prophesy'd that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon; 30 Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter; 45 And ay the ale was growing better: 50 55 Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; 70 And sic a night he taks the road in, As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling show'rs rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd; 75 Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd: Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, 85 Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. 90 95 The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! 105 What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil! The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, IIO |