The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy Part 17

_Sir Will._ Delay a while your hospitable care; I'd rather enjoy this evening calm and fair, Around yon ruin'd tower, to fetch a walk With you, kind friend, to have some private talk.

_Sym._ Soon as you please I'll answer your desire:-- And, Glaud, you'll take your pipe beside the fire; We'll but gae round the Place, and soon be back, Syne sup together, and tak our pint, and crack.

_Glaud._ I'll out a while, and see the young anes play.

My heart's still light, abeit my locks be gray.

[_Exeunt._

_ACT III.--SCENE III._

Jenny pretends an errand hame, Young Roger draps the rest, To whisper out his melting flame, And thow his la.s.sie's breast..

Behind a bush, well hid frae sight, they meet: See Jenny's laughing; Roger's like to greet.

Poor Shepherd!

ROGER _and_ JENNY.

_Roger._

Dear Jenny, I wad speak to ye, wad ye let; And yet I ergh, ye're ay sae scornfu' set.

_Jen._ And what would Roger say, if he could speak?

Am I oblig'd to guess what ye're to seek?

_Rog._ Yes, ye may guess right eith for what I grein, Baith by my service, sighs, and langing een.

And I maun out wi't, tho' I risk your scorn; Ye're never frae my thoughts baith ev'n and morn.

Ah! cou'd I loo ye less, I'd happy be; But happier far, cou'd ye but fancy me.

_Jen._ And wha kens, honest lad, but that I may; Ye canna say that e'er I said ye nay.

_Rog._ Alake! my frighted heart begins to fail, When e'er I mint to tell ye out my tale, For fear some tighter lad, mair rich than I, Has win your love, and near your heart may ly.

_Jen._ I loo my father, cousin Meg I love; But to this day, nae man my mind could move: Except my kin, ilk lad's alike to me; And frae ye all I best had keep me free.

_Rog._ How lang, dear Jenny?--Sayna that again; What pleasure can ye tak in giving pain?

I'm glad, however, that ye yet stand free: Wha kens but ye may rue, and pity me?

_Jen._ Ye have my pity else, to see ye set On that whilk makes our sweetness soon forget.

Wow! but we're bonny, good, and every thing; How sweet we breathe, whene'er we kiss, or sing!

But we're nae sooner fools to give consent, Than we our daffine and tint power repent: When prison'd in four waws, a wife right tame, Altho' the first, the greatest drudge at hame.

_Rog._ That only happens, when for sake of gear, Ane wales a wife, as he wad buy a mear; Or when dull parents bairns together bind Of different tempers, that can ne'er prove kind.

But love, true downright love, engages me, Tho' thou should scorn,--still to delight in thee.

_Jen._ What suggar'd words frae wooers lips can fa'!

But girning marriage comes and ends them a'.

I've seen with shining fair the morning rise, And soon the sleety clouds mirk a' the skies.

I've seen the silver spring a while rin clear, And soon in mossy puddles disappear.

The bridegroom may rejoice, the bride may smile; But soon contentions a' their joys beguile.

_Rog._ I've seen the morning rise with fairest light, The day unclouded sink in calmest night.

I've seen the spring rin wimpling thro' the plain, Increase and join the ocean without stain.

The bridegroom may be blyth, the bride may smile; Rejoice thro' life, and all your fears beguile.

_Jen._ Were I but sure you lang wou'd love maintain, The fewest words my easy heart could gain: For I maun own, since now at last you're free, Altho' I jok'd, I lov'd your company; And ever had a warmness in my breast, That made ye dearer to me than the rest.

_Rog._ I'm happy now! o'er happy! had my head!-- This gush of pleasure's like to be my dead.

Come to my arms! or strike me! I'm all fir'd With wondring love! let's kiss till we be tir'd.

Kiss, kiss! we'll kiss the sun and starns away, And ferly at the quick return of day!

O Jenny! let my arms about thee twine, And briss thy bonny b.r.e.a.s.t.s and lips to mine.

_Which may be sung as follows._

SANG XIII.--_Tune_, Leith Wynd.

JENNY.

_Were I a.s.sur'd you'd constant prove, You should nae mair complain; The easy maid, beset with love, Few words will quickly gain: For I must own, now since you're free, This too fond heart of mine Has lang, a black-sole true to thee, Wish'd to be pair'd with thine._

ROGER.

_I'm happy now; ah! let my head Upon thy breast recline; The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead; Is_ Jenny _then sae kind?---- O! let me briss thee to my heart, And round my arms entwine: Delytfu' thought! we'll never part: Come press thy lips to mine._

_Jen._ With equal joy my easy heart gi'es way, To own thy well try'd love has won the day.

Now by these warmest kisses thou has tane, Swear thus to love me, when by vows made ane.

_Rog._ I swear by fifty thousand yet to come, Or may the first ane strike me deaf and dumb, There shall not be a kindlier dawted wife, If you agree with me to lead your life.

_Jen._ Well, I agree:--Neist, to my parent gae, Get his consent,--he'll hardly say ye nay.

Ye have what will commend ye to him well, Auld fowks, like them, that wants na milk and meal.

SANG XIV.--_Tune_, O'er Bogie.

_Well, I agree, ye're sure of me; Next to my father gae: Make him content to give consent, He'll hardly say you nay: For you have what he wad be at, And will commend you well, Since parents auld think love grows cauld, Where bairns want milk and meal._

_Shou'd he deny, I care na by, He'd contradict in vain; Tho' a' my kin had said and sworn, But thee I will have nane.

Then never range, nor learn to change, Like those in high degree; And if ye prove faithful in love, You'll find nae faut in me._

_Rog._ My faulds contain twice fifteen forrow nowt, As mony newcal in my byars rowt; Five pack of woo I can at Lammas sell, Shorn frae my bob-tail'd bleeters on the fell: Good twenty pair of blankets for our bed, With meikle care, my thrifty mither made.

Ilk thing that makes a heartsome house and tight, Was still her care, my father's great delight.

They left me all; which now gie's joy to me, Because I can give a', my dear, to thee: And had I fifty times as meikle mair, Nane but my Jenny should the samen skair.

My love and all is yours; now had them fast, And guide them as ye like, to gar them last.

_Jen._ I'll do my best.--But see wha comes this way, Patie and Meg;--besides, I mauna stay: Let's steal frae ither now, and meet the morn; If we be seen, we'll drie a deal of scorn.

_Rog._ To where the saugh-trees shades the mennin-pool, I'll frae the hill come down, when day grows cool: Keep triste, and meet me there;--there let us meet, To kiss, and tell our love;--there's nought sae sweet.