Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
Did vow to do his charge,
Because the wretch that hired him
Had paid him very large.

The other would not agree thereto,
So here they fell at strife;
With one another they did fight
About the children's life;
And he that was of mildest mood
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood,

While babes did quake for fear.

He took the children by the hand,
When tears stood in their eye,
And bid them come and go with him,
And look they did not cry;

And two long miles he led them on,

While they for food complain :
Stay here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread,
When I do come again.

These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and down,
But never more they saw the man
Returning from the town.
Their pretty lips with blackberries
Were all besmeared and dyed,
And when they saw the darksome night,
They sat them down and cried.

Thus wandered these two pretty babes,
Till death did end their grief;
In one another's arms they died,
As babes wanting relief.

No burial these pretty babes

Of any man receives,

Till Robin Red-breast painfully

Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of God

Upon their uncle fell;

Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,
His conscience felt a hell;

His barns were fired, his goods consumed,
His lands were barren made,
His cattle died within the field,
And nothing with him staid.

And, in the voyage of Portugal,
Two of his sons did die ;

And, to conclude, himself was brought
To extreme misery;

He pawned and mortgaged all his land,
Ere seven years came about:
And now at length this wicked act
Did by this means come out :

The fellow that did take in hand,
These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judged to die,
As was God's blessed will;

Who did confess the very truth,
The which is here expressed :
Their uncle died, while he for debt
In prison long did rest.

All you that be executors made,
And overseers eke,

Of children that be fatherless,

And infants mild and meek; Take you example by this thing, And yield to each his right, Lest God, with such like misery, Your wicked minds requite.

LADY BARNARD'S "AULD ROBIN GRAY.”
WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at
And a' the warld to sleep are gane ;
[hame,
The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my ee
When my gudeman lies sound by me.

Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and socht me for his

bride;

But, saving a croun, he had naething else beside ;
To make that croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea;
And the croun and the pund were baith for me.
He hadna been awa a week but only twa, [awa;
When my mother she fell sick, and the cow was stown
My father brak his arm, and young Jamie at the sea,
And Auld Robin Gray cam' a-courtin' me.

My father couldna wark, and my mother couldna
spin;
[win ;
I toiled day and nicht, but their bread I couldna
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in
his ee,

Said, Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me!

My heart it said nay, for I looked for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack;

The ship it was a wrack- why didna Jamie dee? Or why do I live to say, Wae's me? My father argued sair; my mother didna speak; But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to break: [in the sea,

Sae they gied him my hand, though my heart was
And Auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me.

I hadna been a wife a week but only four,
When sitting sae mournfully at the door,

I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he,
Till he said, I'm come back for to marry thee.'

O, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say ;

We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away :

I wish I were dead! but I'm no like to dee;
And why do I live to say, Wae's me?

I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin,

I daurna think on Jamie, for that would be a sin;

But I'll do my best a gude wife to be,

For Auld Robin Gray is so kind to me.

UNCERTAINTY.

ECLOGUE I.

POPE! to whose reed, beneath the beechen shade,
The nymph of Thames a pleased attention paid,
While yet thy muse, content with humbler praise,
Warbled in Windsor's grove her sylvan lays,
Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wing,
Of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing,
Wilt thou with me revisit once again
The crystal fountain and the flowery plain?
Wilt thou indulgent hear my verse relate
The various changes of a lover's state,
And while each turn of passion I pursue,
Ask thy own heart if what I tell be true?
To the green margin of a lonely wood,
Whose pendent shades o'erlooked a silver flood,
Young Damon came, unknowing where he strayed,
Full of the image of the beauteous maid.
His flock far off unfed, untended lay,
To every savage a defenceless prey;

No sense of interest could their master move,
And every care seemed trifling now but love:
A while in pensive silence he remained, [plained;
But, though his voice was mute, his looks com-
At length the thoughts within his bosom pent
Forced his unwilling tongue to give them vent.

'Ye nymphs!' he cried, 'ye Dryads! who so long
Have favored Damon, and inspired his song;
For whom, retired, I shun the gay resorts
Of sportful cities and of pompous courts;
In vain I bid the restless world adieu,
To seek tranquillity and peace with you.
Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage
No factions here can form, no wars can wage,
Though Envy frowns not on your humble shades,
Nor Calumny your innocence invades,

Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breast,
Too often violates your boasted rest;
With inbred storms disturbs your calm retreat,
And taints with bitterness each rural sweet.

Ah, luckless day! when first with fond surprise
On Delia's face I fixed my eager eyes;
Then in wild tumults all my soul was tost,
Then reason, liberty, at once were lost,
And every wish, and thought, and care, was gone,
But what my heart employed on her alone.
Then too she smiled; can smiles our peace destroy,
Those lovely children of Content and Joy?
How can soft pleasure and tormenting woe
From the same spring at the same moment flow?
Unhappy boy! these vain inquiries cease,

Thought could not guard nor will restore thy peace;
Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure,
And soothe the pain thou know'st not how to cure.
Come, flattering Memory! and tell my heart
How kind she was, and with what pleasing art
She strove its fondest wishes to obtain,
Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain.
If on the green we danced a mirthful band,
To me alone she gave her willing hand;
Her partial taste, if e'er I touched the lyre,
Still in my song found something to admire;
By none but her my crook with flowers was crowned,
By none but her my brows with ivy bound;
The world that Damon was her choice believed,
The world, alas! like Damon was deceived.
When last I saw her, and declared my fire
In words as soft as passion could inspire,
Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew,
Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu.
The frighted hind, who sees his ripened corn
Up from the roots by sudden tempest torn,
Whose fairest hopes destroyed and blasted lie,
Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I.
Ah! how have I deserved, inhuman maid!
To have my faithful service thus repaid?
Were all the marks of kindness I received
But dreams of joy that charmed me and deceived?
Or did you only nurse my growing love
That with more pain I might your hatred prove?
Sure guilty treachery no place could find

In such a gentle, such a generous mind;

A maid brought up the woods and wilds among,

Could ne'er have learnt the arts of courts so young:
No; let me rather think her anger feigned,
Still let me hope my Delia may be gained;
"T was only modesty that seemed disdain,
And her heart suffered when she gave me pain.

From Love, Theocritus, on Enna's plains,
Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains;
Young Maro, touched by his inspiring dart,
Could charm each ear, and soften every heart;
Me too his power has reached, and bids with thine
My rustic pipe in pleasing concert join.

Damon no longer sought the silent shade,
No more in unfrequented paths he strayed,
But called the swains to hear his jocund song,
And told his joy to all the rural throng.

'Blest be the hour,' he said, 'that happy hour,
When first I owned my Delia's gentle power!
Then gloomy discontent and pining care
Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there;
Soft wishes there they left and gay desires,
Delightful languors and transporting fires.
Where yonder limes combine to form a shade,
These eyes first gazed upon the charming maid;
There she appeared on that auspicious day
When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay :
She led the dance- Heavens! with what grace she
moved!

Who could have seen her then and not have loved?
I strove not to resist so sweet a flame,
But gloried in a happy captive's name;
Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free,
But leave to brutes their savage liberty.

And art thou, then, fond youth! secure of joy?
Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy?
Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store?
Or hast thou never proved his fatal power?
Whence flowed those tears that late bedewed thy
cheek?

Why sighed thy heart as if it strove to break?
Why were the desert rocks invoked to hear
The plaintive accent of thy sad despair?
From Delia's rigor all those pains arose,
Delia who now compassionates my woes,
Who bids me hope, and in that charming word
Has peace and transport to my soul restored.

'Begin, my pipe! begin the gladsome lay;
A kiss from Delia shall thy music pay,
A kiss obtained 'twixt struggling and consent,
Given with forced anger and disguised content.
No laureate wreaths I ask to bind my brows
Such as the muse on lofty bards bestows;
Let other swains to praise or fame aspire,
I from her lips my recompense require.

Why stays my Delia in her secret bower?
Light gales have chased the late impending shower,
Th' emerging sun more bright his beams extends,
Opposed its beauteous arch the rainbow bends,
Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay,
The birds renew their songs on every spray ;
Come forth, my love! thy shepherd's joys to crown:
All nature smiles will only Delia frown?

'Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain, While every flower of every sweet they drain : See how beneath yon hillock's shady steep The sheltered herds on flowery couches sleep :

Nor bees nor herds are half so blest as I,
If with my fond desires my love comply;
From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows,
And on her bosom dwells more soft repose.

'Ah how, my dear! shall I deserve thy charms?
What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms?
A bird for thee in silken bands I hold,
Whose yellow plumage shines like polished gold;
From distant isles the lovely stranger came,
And bears the fortunate Canaries' name;
In all our woods none boast so sweet a note,
Not e'en the nightingale's melodious throat;
Accept of this, and could I add beside
What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide,
If all the gems in Eastern rocks were mine,
On thee alone their glittering pride should shine:
But if thy mind no gifts have power to move,
Phoebus himself shall leave the Aonian grove;
The tuneful nine, who never sue in vain,
Shall come sweet suppliants for their favorite swain:
For him each blue-eyed Naiad of the flood,
For him each green-haired sister of the wood,
Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray
His music calls to dance the night away.
And you, fair nymphs! companions of my love,
With whom she joys the cowslip meads to rove,
I beg you recommend my faithful flame,
And let her often hear her shepherd's name :
Shade all my faults from her inquiring sight,
And show my merits in the fairest light;
My pipe your kind assistance shall repay,
And every friend shall claim a different lay.

But see! in yonder glade the heavenly fair
Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air.
Ah! thither let me fly with eager feet:
Adieu, my pipe! I go my love to meet.
may I find her as we parted last,
And may each future hour be like the past!
So shall the whitest lamb these pastures feed,
Propitious Venus! on thy altars bleed.'

JEALOUSY.

ECLOGUE III.

The gods, O Walpole! give no bliss sincere ; Wealth is disturbed by care, and power by fear. Of all the passions that employ the mind, In gentle love the sweetest joys we find : Yet e'en those joys dire Jealousy molests, And blackens each fair image in our breasts. O may the warmth of thy too tender heart Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venomed dart! For thy own quiet think thy mistress just, And wisely take thy happiness on trust. Begin, my Muse! and Damon's woes rehearse In wildest numbers and disordered verse. On a romantic mountain's airy headWhile browsing goats at ease around him fed

-

Anxious he lay, with jealous cares opprest,
Distrust and anger laboring in his breast:-
The vale beneath a pleasing prospect yields
Of verdant meads and cultivated fields;
Through these a river rolls its winding flood,
Adorned with various tufts of rising wood;
Here half concealed in trees a cottage stands,
A castle there the opening plain commands;
Beyond, a town with glittering spires is crowned,
And distant hills the wide horizon bound.
So charming was the scene, a while the swain
Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain;
But soon the stings infixed within his heart
With cruel force renewed their raging smart :
His flowery wreath, which long with pride he wore,
The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore,
Then cried: May all thy charms, ungrateful maid!
Like these neglected roses droop and fade!
May angry Heaven deform each guilty grace
That triumphs now in that deluding face!
Those altered looks may every shepherd fly,
And ev'n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I!
'Say, thou inconstant! what has Damon done
To lose the heart his tedious pains had won?
Tell me what charms you in my rival find,
Against whose power no ties have strength to bind ?
Has he, like me, with long obedience strove
To conquer your disdain, and merit love?
Has he with transport every smile adored,
And died with grief at each ungentle word?
Ah, no! the conquest was obtained with ease;
He pleased you by not studying to please;
His careless indolence your pride alarmed,
And had he loved you more, he less had charmed.
"O pain to think another shall possess
Those balmy lips which I was wont to press !
Another on her panting breast shall lie,
And catch sweet madness from her swimming eye!
I saw their friendly flocks together feed,

I saw them hand in hand walk o'er the mead ;
Would my closed eye had sunk in endless night
Ere I was doomed to bear that hateful sight!
Where'er they passed be blasted every flower,
And hungry wolves their helpless flocks devour!
Ah, wretched swain! could no examples move
Thy heedless heart to shun the rage of love?
Hast thou not heard how poor Menalcas died
A victim to Parthenia's fatal pride?
Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain,
Loved by the nymphs, by Phoebus loved, in vain :
Around his tomb their tears the Muses paid,
And all things mourned but the relentless maid.
Would I could die like him, and be at peace;
These torments in the quiet grave would cease;
There my vexed thoughts a calm repose would find,
And rest as if my Delia still were kind.
No; let me live her falsehood to upbraid;
Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid. -

1 See Mr. Gay's 'Dione.'

Alas! what aid, fond swain! would thou receive?
Could thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve?
Protect her, Heaven! and let her never know
The slightest part of hapless Damon's woe:
I ask no vengeance from the powers above,
All I implore is never more to love. —
Let me this fondness from my bosom tear,
Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair.
Come, cool Indifference! and heal my breast;
Wearied, at length I seek thy downy rest:
No turbulence of passion shall destroy
My future ease with flattering hopes of joy.
Hear, mighty Pan! and all ye Sylvans! hear
What by your guardian deities I swear;
No more my eyes shall view her fatal charms,
No more I'll court the traitress to my arms;
Not all her arts my steady soul shall move,
And she shall find that Reason conquers Love!'
Scarce had he spoke when through the lawn below
Alone he saw the beauteous Delia go;
At once transported he forgot his vow-
Such perjuries the laughing gods allow !
Down the steep hills with ardent haste he flew :
He found her kind, and soon believed her true.

POSSESSION.

ECLOGUE IV.

Cobham to thee this rural lay I bring,
Whose guiding judgment gives me skill to sing,
Though far unequal to those polished strains
With which thy Congreve charmed the list'ning
plains ;

Yet shall its music please thy partial ear, [dear,
And soothe thy breast with thoughts that once were
Recall those years which Time has thrown behind,
When smiling Love with Honor shared thy mind. **
The sweet remembrance shall thy youth restore,
Fancy again shall run past pleasures o'er,
And while in Stowe's enchanting walks you stray,
This theme may help to cheat the Summer's day.
Beneath the covert of a myrtle wood,
To Venus raised, a rustic altar stood-
To Venus and to Hymen, there combined
In friendly league to favor human kind.
With wanton Cupids in that happy shade
The gentle Virtues and mild Wisdom played;
Nor there, in sprightly Pleasure's genial train,
Lurked sick Disgust or late-repenting Pain,
Nor force nor Interest joined unwilling hands,
But Love consenting tied the blissful bands.
Thither with glad devotion Damon came,
To thank the powers who blest his faithful flame;
Two milk-white doves he on their altar laid,
And thus to both his grateful homage paid:
'Hail, bounteous God! before whose hallow'd shrine
My Delia vowed to be forever mine,
While, glowing in her cheeks, with tender love
Sweet virgin modesty reluctant strove;

And hail to thee, fair queen of young desires! Long shall my heart preserve thy pleasing fires, Since Delia now can all its warmth return.1

'What are ye now, my once most valued joys? Insipid trifles all, and childish toys.. Friendship itself ne'er knew a charm like this, Nor Colin's talk could please like Delia's kiss. 'Ye Muses, skilled in every winning art, Teach me more deeply to engage her heart: Ye Nymphs to her your freshest roses bring, And crown her with the pride of all the spring; On all her days let health and peace attend; May she ne'er want nor ever lose a friend! May some new pleasure every hour employ, But let her Damon be her highest joy!

With thee, my love! forever will I stay, All night caress thee, and admire all day;

1 Thirteen lines are here omitted, as being too warm for modern taste-in print; also two lines in the address to Cobham, in the previous column, for the same reason. -J.

In the same field our mingled flocks we'll feed,
To the same spring our thirsty heifers lead;
Together will we share the harvest toils,
Together press the vine's autumnal spoils.
Delightful state! where Peace and Love combine,
To bid our tranquil days unclouded shine!
Here limpid fountains roll through flowery meads,
Here rising forests lift their verdant heads,
Here let me wear my careless life away,
And in thy arms insensibly decay.

'When late old age our heads shall silver o'er,
And our slow pulses dance with joy no more,
When Time no longer will thy beauties spare,
And only Damon's eye shall think thee fair,
Then may the gentle hand of welcome death
At one soft stroke deprive us both of breath!
May we beneath one common stone be laid,
And the same cypress both our ashes shade!
Perhaps some friendly Muse in tender verse
Shall deign our faithful passion to rehearse,
And future ages, with just envy moved,
Be told how Damon and his Delia loved.'