The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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RURAL RETIREMENT. |
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 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
121
RURAL RETIREMENT.
Oh! Rural Life, thou blest retreat,
Where sweet contentment dwells aye;
To me ye're dearer than the street,
Where din and discord yells aye.
There, countless wretches are immured,
In fell disease and starvin';
And thrivin' knaves to guilt inured,
Frae virtue's paths are swervin'.
Where sweet contentment dwells aye;
To me ye're dearer than the street,
Where din and discord yells aye.
There, countless wretches are immured,
In fell disease and starvin';
And thrivin' knaves to guilt inured,
Frae virtue's paths are swervin'.
Right dear to me are glens and howes,
Wi' craigs aboon me towerin',
While burns come tumblin' frae the knowes,
And owre the linns are pourin'.
The sun blinks blythely on the pool,
That bickers to his glances;
There water clocks, untaught by rule,
Skip through their countra dances.
Wi' craigs aboon me towerin',
While burns come tumblin' frae the knowes,
And owre the linns are pourin'.
The sun blinks blythely on the pool,
That bickers to his glances;
There water clocks, untaught by rule,
Skip through their countra dances.
The sturdy aik aboon the brow,
Supports the feeble ivy;
See how it twines wi' mony a bow,
Just as it were alive aye.
The bloomin' broom, the hawthorn white,
That scents the caller mornin',
And wild flowers that the heart delight,
The banks and brows adornin'.
Supports the feeble ivy;
See how it twines wi' mony a bow,
Just as it were alive aye.
The bloomin' broom, the hawthorn white,
That scents the caller mornin',
And wild flowers that the heart delight,
The banks and brows adornin'.
Here blythesome birds on hazel boughs,
Chant up their mornin' ditty;
Amang the firs the cushat coos,—
Hear how she wails sae pretty!
Better they relish Nature's laws,
Than man wi' a' his knowledge,
And fill their place, but cracks or flaws,
Though ne'er at school or college.
Chant up their mornin' ditty;
Amang the firs the cushat coos,—
Hear how she wails sae pretty!
122
Than man wi' a' his knowledge,
And fill their place, but cracks or flaws,
Though ne'er at school or college.
The sheep, amang the bracken braes,
Are feedin' wi' their lammies;
There, kids as white as new bleached claes,
'Mang crags bleat for their mammies.
The shepherd lad sae blythe and gay,
Does loudly tune his chanter;
Plays “Owre the hills and far away,”
To chase ilk care and canker.
Are feedin' wi' their lammies;
There, kids as white as new bleached claes,
'Mang crags bleat for their mammies.
The shepherd lad sae blythe and gay,
Does loudly tune his chanter;
Plays “Owre the hills and far away,”
To chase ilk care and canker.
Yet still the bonniest flower's unsung
O' a' creation's plantin';
For thee has mony a harp been strung,
And ilka heart been pantin';
But if the precious dew o' sense
Bedeck't, it shows the sweeter;
Fostered by mirthfu' modest mense,
It maks the gift completer.
O' a' creation's plantin';
For thee has mony a harp been strung,
And ilka heart been pantin';
But if the precious dew o' sense
Bedeck't, it shows the sweeter;
Fostered by mirthfu' modest mense,
It maks the gift completer.
Leeze me on e'en, when hill and tree
Are pictured in the vallies;
When lassies to the loan do hie,
To milk and feed their mailies;
While sweet and lang they lilt the sang,
As lads come frae the mawin',
Wha pree their mou' ere it be lang,
In corner till the daw'in'.
Are pictured in the vallies;
When lassies to the loan do hie,
To milk and feed their mailies;
While sweet and lang they lilt the sang,
As lads come frae the mawin',
Wha pree their mou' ere it be lang,
In corner till the daw'in'.
When seated roun' the milkin' slap,
Their toils are a' forgotten:
For lasses' looks ha'e aye the knack
To stir up fun and jokin'.
The lads that's kind will bear the pail,
And pair as love directs them;
While lightly footin't owre the dale,
Nae doubts or fears perplex them.
Their toils are a' forgotten:
123
To stir up fun and jokin'.
The lads that's kind will bear the pail,
And pair as love directs them;
While lightly footin't owre the dale,
Nae doubts or fears perplex them.
Now e'ening star to lovers dear,
Beams in the purple east;
Wi' modest beauties saft and clear,
Like Peggy's spotless breast.
The moon like ony buskëd bride,
In siller grey was glancin',
And on the restless rocking tide
Her lightsome locks were dancin'.
Beams in the purple east;
Wi' modest beauties saft and clear,
Like Peggy's spotless breast.
The moon like ony buskëd bride,
In siller grey was glancin',
And on the restless rocking tide
Her lightsome locks were dancin'.
But sure Contentment lives, hersel',
Beneath yon braw clay biggin',
Weel theekit frae the heathery fell,
While brackens crown the riggin'.
The honeysuckles speel the roof,
And fouse adorn the gavel;
The frien'ly firs, they keep it noof,
Frae Boreas' baul'est devel.
Beneath yon braw clay biggin',
Weel theekit frae the heathery fell,
While brackens crown the riggin'.
The honeysuckles speel the roof,
And fouse adorn the gavel;
The frien'ly firs, they keep it noof,
Frae Boreas' baul'est devel.
Here, glancin' trenchers in a raw,
And luggies laid in order;
There stuff-hung bed, fu' doucely braw,
Fringed featly roun' the border.
The sattle chair, for seat or bed,
Wi' forms and tables scoured weel,
And glancin' green-horns snugly laid,
In Lucky Dad's ain spoon-creel.
And luggies laid in order;
There stuff-hung bed, fu' doucely braw,
Fringed featly roun' the border.
The sattle chair, for seat or bed,
Wi' forms and tables scoured weel,
And glancin' green-horns snugly laid,
In Lucky Dad's ain spoon-creel.
124
Here auld folks live wi' bairns' bairns,
And blest wi' peace and plenty;
Here, parents' hope the bosom warms,
Here youth blooms fair and dainty:
Here dwell the mither's virtuous smiles,
The faithfu' friend and father;
Unlike them skilled in city wiles,
That aften slip the tether.
And blest wi' peace and plenty;
Here, parents' hope the bosom warms,
Here youth blooms fair and dainty:
Here dwell the mither's virtuous smiles,
The faithfu' friend and father;
Unlike them skilled in city wiles,
That aften slip the tether.
Here grey-beard mirth forgets his years,
And tells his tale fu' cheer'ly;
Amazed, the listening youngster hears
The feats o' Papish Charlie.
But when the lasses tune the lays,
As Coila's Bard composed them;
'Bout thoughtless joys o' lover's waes,
They dirl through the bosom.
And tells his tale fu' cheer'ly;
Amazed, the listening youngster hears
The feats o' Papish Charlie.
But when the lasses tune the lays,
As Coila's Bard composed them;
'Bout thoughtless joys o' lover's waes,
They dirl through the bosom.
What though they ha'e nae opera joys,
Or carriage gay to flaunt in;
Or dainty that the stomach cloys,
They never ken they want 'em.
Their hame-spun grey, and halesome fare,
Mak' life as sweet's the gentry's;
And what they ha'e, they freely share,
Nor heed they learned comment'ries.
Or carriage gay to flaunt in;
Or dainty that the stomach cloys,
They never ken they want 'em.
Their hame-spun grey, and halesome fare,
Mak' life as sweet's the gentry's;
And what they ha'e, they freely share,
Nor heed they learned comment'ries.
Unknown to them the borrowed glance,
To smile when sorrows twine them;
Or a' the mummeries come frae France:
Few spleens or vapours pine them.
There life is like yon toddlin' burn;
Though cross craigs whiles may stint it,
Still presses owre ilk thrawart turn,
And never looks behint it.
To smile when sorrows twine them;
Or a' the mummeries come frae France:
Few spleens or vapours pine them.
There life is like yon toddlin' burn;
Though cross craigs whiles may stint it,
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And never looks behint it.
My wearied limbs I'd here repose,
And woo the muses roun' me;
There mark the briar that bears the rose,
While lav'rocks tower aboon me.
Here, far frae busy bustlin' strife,
I'd tend life's latest ember;
Unteased by feignèd friends or wife,
That wauken care and clamour.
And woo the muses roun' me;
There mark the briar that bears the rose,
While lav'rocks tower aboon me.
Here, far frae busy bustlin' strife,
I'd tend life's latest ember;
Unteased by feignèd friends or wife,
That wauken care and clamour.
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |