The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy Part 21

_Again, ah! shall I never creep Around the Know with silent duty, Kindly to watch thee, while asleep, And wonder at thy manly beauty?

Hear, Heaven, while solemnly I vow, Tho' thou shouldst prove a wand'ring lover, Thro' life to thee I shall prove true, Nor be a wife to any other_

_Pat._ Sure Heaven approves--and be a.s.sur'd of me, I'll ne'er gang back of what I've sworn to thee: And time, tho' time maun interpose a while, And I maun leave my Peggy and this isle; Yet time, nor distance, nor the fairest face, If there's a fairer, e'er shall fill thy place.

I'd hate my rising fortune, should it move The fair foundation of our faithful love.

If at my foot were crowns and scepters laid, To bribe my soul frae thee, delightful maid; For thee I'd soon leave these inferior things To sic as have the patience to be kings.

Wherefore that tear? Believe, and calm thy mind.

_Peg._ I greet for joy, to hear thy words sae kind.

When hopes were sunk, and nought but mirk despair Made me think life was little worth my care, My heart was like to burst; but now I see Thy generous thoughts will save thy love for me.

With patience then I'll wait each wheeling year, Hope time away, till thou with joy appear; And all the while I'll study gentler charms, To make me fitter for my traveller's arms: I'll gain on uncle Glaud,--he's far frae fool, And will not grudge to put me thro' ilk school; Where I may manners learn----

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XVIII.--_Tune_, Tweedside.

_When hope was quite sunk in despair, My heart it was going to break; My life appear'd worthless my care, But now I will save't for thy sake.

Where'er my love travels by day, Wherever he lodges by night, With me his dear image shall stay, And my soul keep him ever in sight._

_With patience I'll wait the long year, And study the gentlest charms; Hope time away till thou appear, To lock thee for ay in those arms.

Whilst thou was a shepherd, I priz'd No higher degree in this life; But now I'll endeavour to rise To a height is becoming thy wife._

_For beauty that's only skin-deep, Must fade like the gowans of May, But inwardly rooted, will keep For ever, without a decay.

Nor age, nor the changes of life, Can quench the fair fire of love, If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife, And the husband have sense to approve._

_Pat._ ----That's wisely said, And what he wares that way shall be well paid.

Tho' without a' the little helps of art, Thy native sweets might gain a prince's heart: Yet now, lest in our station, we offend, We must learn modes, to innocence unkend; Affect aftimes to like the thing we hate, And drap serenity, to keep up state: Laugh, when we're sad; speak, when we've nought to say; And, for the fashion, when we're blyth, seem wae: Pay compliments to them we aft have scorn'd; Then scandalize them, when their backs are turn'd.

_Peg._ If this is gentry, I had rather be What I am still;--But I'll be ought with thee.

_Pat._ No, no, my Peggy, I but only jest With gentry's apes; for still amangst the best, Good manners give integrity a bleez, When native vertues join the arts to please.

_Peg._ Since with nae hazard, and sae small expence, My lad frae books can gather siccan sense; Then why, ah! why should the tempestuous sea, Endanger thy dear life, and frighten me?

Sir William's cruel, that wad force his son, For watna-whats, sae great a risk to run.

_Pat._ There is nae doubt, but travelling does improve, Yet I would shun it for thy sake, my love.

But soon as I've shook aff my landwart cast, In foreign cities, hame to thee I'll haste.

_Peg._ With every setting day, and rising morn, I'll kneel to Heaven, and ask thy safe return.

Under that tree, and on the Suckler Brae, Where aft we wont, when bairns, to run and play; And to the Hissel-shaw where first ye vow'd Ye wad be mine, and I as eithly trow'd, I'll aften gang, and tell the trees and flowers, With joy, that they'll bear witness I am yours.

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XIX.--_Tune_, Bush aboon Traquair.

_At setting day, and rising morn, With soul that still shall love thee, I'll ask of Heaven thy safe return, With all that can improve thee.

I'll visit aft the Birken Bush, Where first thou kindly told me Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush, Whilst round thou didst enfold me._

_To all our haunts I will repair, By Greenwood-shaw or fountain; Or where the summer-day I'd share With thee upon yon mountain.

There will I tell the trees and flowers, From thoughts unfeign'd and tender, By vows you're mine, by love is yours A heart which cannot wander._

_Pat._ My dear, allow me, frae thy temples fair, A shining ringlet of thy flowing hair; Which, as a sample of each lovely charm, I'll aften kiss, and wear about my arm.

_Peg._ Were't in my power with better boons to please, I'd give the best I could with the same ease; Nor wad I, if thy luck had faln to me, Been in ae jot less generous to thee.

_Pat._ I doubt it not; but since we've little time, To ware't on words, wad border on a crime: Love's safter meaning better is exprest, When 'tis with kisses on the heart imprest. [_Exeunt._

End of the FOURTH ACT.

ACT FIFTH.

_SCENE I._

See how poor Bauldy stares like ane possest, And roars up Symon frae his kindly rest.

Bare-leg'd, with night-cap, and unb.u.t.ton'd coat, See, the auld man comes forward to the sot.

SYMON _and_ BAULDY.

_Symon._

What want ye, Bauldy, at this early hour, While drowsy sleep keeps a' beneath its pow'r?

Far to the north, the scant approaching light Stands equal 'twixt the morning and the night.

What gars ye shake and glowr, and look sae wan?

Your teeth they chitter, hair like bristles stand.

_Baul._ O len me soon some water, milk or ale, My head's grown giddy,--legs with shaking fail; I'll ne'er dare venture forth at night my lane: Alake! I'll never be mysell again.

I'll ne'er o'erput it! Symon! O Symon! O!

[_Symon gives him a drink._

_Sym._ What ails thee, gowk!--to make sae loud ado?

You've wak'd Sir William, he has left his bed; He comes, I fear ill pleas'd: I hear his tred.

_Enter_ SIR WILLIAM.

_Sir Will._ How goes the night? Does day-light yet appear?

Symon, you're very timeously asteer.

_Sym._ I'm sorry, Sir, that we've disturb'd your rest: } But some strange thing has Bauldy's sp'rit opprest; } He's seen some witch, or wrestl'd with a ghaist. }