And cosie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,

Till, crash the cruel coulter past

Out through thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble !
Now thou's turn'd out for a' thy trouble,
But house or hauld,

To thole the winter's sleety dribble,

And cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain :
The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft a-gley,

And lea'e us nought but grief and pain
For promised joy.

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, och! I backward cast my e'e

On prospects drear!

And forward, though I canna see,
I guess and fear!

A WINTER NIGHT.

HEN biting Boreas, fell and doure,

WH

Sharp shivers through the leafless bower;

When Phoebus gies a short-lived glower

Far south the lift,

Dim-darkening through the flaky shower,

Or whirling drift:

Ae night the storm the steeples rocked, Poor labour sweet in sleep was locked, While burns, wi' snawy wreaths up-choked, Wild-eddying swirl,

Or through the mining outlet bocked,

Down headlong hurl.

List'ning the doors and winnocks rattle,
I thought me on the ourie cattle,
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle
O' winter war,

And through the drift, deep-lairing sprattle,
Beneath a scaur.

Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing!
That, in the merry months o' spring,
Delighted me to hear thee sing,

What comes o' thee?

Whare wilt thou cower thy chittering wing, And close thy e'e?

Even you, on murdering errands toil'd,
Lone from your savage homes exiled,
The blood-stain'd roost, and sheep-cot spoil'd,
My heart forgets,

While pitiless the tempest wild

Sore on you beats.

Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign,
Dark muffled, view'd the dreary plain;
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train,
Rose in my soul,

When on my ear this plaintive strain,

Slow, solemn, stole

Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust!
And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost !
Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows!
Not all your rage, as now united, shows
More hard unkindness, unrelenting,
Vengeful malice, unrepenting,

Than heaven-illumin'd man on brother man bestows!

"See stern Oppression's iron grip,
Or mad Ambition's gory hand,
Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip,
Woe, Want, and Murder o'er a land!
Even in the peaceful rural vale,

Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale,
How pamper'd Luxury, Flattery by her side,
The parasite empoisoning her ear,

With all the servile wretches in the rear,
Looks o'er proud Property, extended wide;
And eyes the simple rustic hind,

Whose toil upholds the glittering show,
A creature of another kind,

Some coarser substance unrefined,

Placed for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below!

"Where, where is Love's fond, tender throe, With lordly Honour's lofty brow,

The powers you proudly own?

Is there, beneath Love's noble name,
Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim,
To bless himself alone!

Mark maiden innocence a prey
To love-pretending snares,
This boasted Honour turns away,
Shunning soft Pity's rising sway,

Regardless of the tears and unavailing prayers!
Perhaps, this hour, in misery's squalid nest,
She strains your infant to her joyless breast,
And with a mother's fears shrinks at the rocking blast!

"O ye who, sunk in beds of down,

Feel not a want but what yourselves create,
Think for a moment on his wretched fate
Whom friends and fortune quite disown!
Ill satisfied keen nature's clamorous call,

Stretch'd on his straw he lays himself to sleep,
While through the ragged roof and chinky wall,
Chill o'er his slumbers piles the drifty heap!
Think on the dungeon's grim confine,
Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine!
Guilt, erring man, relenting view!
But shall thy legal rage pursue
The wretch, already crushed low
By cruel Fortune's undeservèd blow?
Affliction's sons are brothers in distress,
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!"

I heard na mair, for chanticleer
Shook off the pouthery snaw,

And hail'd the morning wi' a cheer—
A cottage-rousing craw.

But deep this truth impress'd my mind—
Through all His works abroad,

The heart benevolent and kind

The most resembles God.

VERSES TO AN OLD SWEETHEART AFTER HER MARRIAGE.

WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A COPY OF HIS POEMS PRESENTED TO HER.

ΟΝ

NCE fondly loved, and still remember'd dear, Sweet early object of my youthful vows! Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere— Friendship!-'tis all cold duty now allows.

And when you read the simple, artless rhymes,
One friendly sigh for him-he asks no more-
Who distant burns in flaming torrid climes,
Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic's roar.

WH

EPISTLE TO DAVIE,

A BROTHER POET.

HILE winds frae aff Ben Lomond blaw,
And bar the doors wi' driving snaw,

And hing us owre the ingle,

I set me down to pass the time,
And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme,
In hamely, westlin' jingle.

While frosty winds blaw in the drift,
Ben to the chimla lug,

I grudge a wee the great folk's gift,
That live sae bien and snug: