Volume Ii Part 169 (2/2)

The past is plain; 'twas love designed E'en sorrow's iron chain; And, mercy's s.h.i.+ning thread has twined With the dark warp of pain.

So be it still. O Thou who hast That younger bridal blest, Till the May-morn of love has pa.s.sed To evening's golden west; Come to this later Cana, Lord, And, at thy touch divine, The water of that earlier board To-night shall turn to wine.

David Gray [1837-1888]

MOGGY AND ME

Oh wha are sae happy as me an' my Moggy?

Oh wha are sae happy as Moggy an' me?

We're baith turnin' auld, an' our walth is soon tauld, But contentment bides aye in our cottage sae wee.

She toils a' the day when I'm out wi' the hirsel, An' chants to the bairns while I sing on the brae; An' aye her blithe smile welcomes me frae my toil, When down the glen I come weary an' wae.

Aboon our auld heads we've a nice little biggin, That keeps out the cauld when the simmer's awa; We've twa webs o' linen o' Moggy's ain spinnin', As thick as silk velvet and white as the snaw; We've kye in the byre, an' yauds in the stable, A grumphie sae fat that she hardly can stand; An' something, I guess, in yon auld painted press To cheer up the speerits an' steady the hand.

'Tis true we hae had mony sorrows an' crosses, Our pouches oft toom, an' our hearts fu' o' care; But wi' a' our crosses, our sorrows an' losses, Contentment, thank heaven! has aye been our share.

I've an auld roost.i.t sword that was left by my father, Whilk aye has been drawn when my king had a fae; We hae friends ane or twa that aft gie us a ca', To laugh when we're happy or grieve when we're wae.

Our duke may hae gowd mair than schoolmen can reckon, An' flunkies to watch ilka glance o' his e'e, His lady aye braw sittin' prim in her ha'; But are they sae happy as Moggy an' me?

A' ye wha ne'er fand the straight road to be happy, Wha are nae content wi' the lot that ye dree, Come down to the dwellin' o' whilk I've been tellin', You'll learn it by lookin' at Moggy an' me.

James Hogg [1770-1835]

”O, LAY THY HAND IN MINE, DEAR!”

O, lay thy hand in mine, dear!

We're growing old; But Time hath brought no sign, dear, That hearts grow cold.

'Tis long, long since our new love Made life divine; But age enricheth true love, Like n.o.ble wine.

And lay thy cheek to mine, dear, And take thy rest; Mine arms around thee twine, dear, And make thy nest.

A many cares are pressing On this dear head; But Sorrow's hands in blessing Are surely laid.

O, lean thy life on mine, dear!

'Twill shelter thee.

Thou wert a winsome vine, dear, On my young tree: And so, till boughs are leafless, And songbirds flown, We'll twine, then lay us, griefless Together down.

Gerald Ma.s.sey [1828-1907]

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