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I dreamed a dreary dream this hinder night,

95 That gars my flesh a' creep yet with the fright.

Patie. Now, to a friend, how silly 's this pretence,
To ane wha you and a' your secrets kens:
Daft are your dreams; as daftly wad ye hide
Your well-seen love and dorty Jenny's pride.
Take courage, Roger! me your sorrows tell,
And safely think nane kens them but yoursell.

Roger. Indeed now, Patie, ye have guessed o'er true,
And there is naething I'll keep up frae you.
Me dorty Jenny looks upon asquint;

105 To speak but till her I dare hardly mint. In ilka place she jeers me air and late, And gars me look bombazed and unco blate. But yesterday I met her yont a knowe; She fled as frae a shelly-coated cow. She Bauldy loo’es, Bauldy that drives the car, But gecks at me and says I smell of tar.

Patie. But Bauldy loo’es not her, right well I wat; He sighs for Neps : sae that may stand for that. Roger. I wish I cou'dna loo'e her—but in vain!

115 I still maun doat, and thole her proud disdain. My Bawty is a cur I dearly like: Till he yowled fair she strak the poor dumb tyke; If I had filled a nook within her breast, She wad have shawn mair kindness to my beast. When I begin to tune my stock and horn, With a' her face she shaws a caulrife scorn: Last night I played ye never heard sic spite; “O’er Bogie” was the spring, and her delyte; Yet tauntingly she at her cousin speered

125 Gif she could tell what tune I played, and sneered. Flocks, wander where ye like; I dinna care! I'll break my reed, and never whistle mair.

Patie. E'en do sae, Roger; wha can help misluck, Saebeins she be sic a thrawn-gabbit chuck?

130 Yonder 's a craig; since ye have tint all houp, Gae till 't your ways and tak the lover's loup.

Roger. I needna mak sic speed my blood to spill; I'll warrant death come soon eneugh a-will.

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Patie. Daft gowk! leave aff that silly whinging way! 135 Seem careless: there's my hand ye 'll win the day. Hear how I served my lass I love as weel As ye do Jenny and with heart as leel. Last morning I was gay and early out; Upon a dyke I leaned, glowring about.

140 I saw my Meg come linkan o'er the lea; I saw my Meg, but Peggy saw na me, For yet the sun was wading thro’ the mist, And she was close upon me e'er she wist: Her coats were kiltit, and did sweetly shaw

145 Her straight bare legs, that whiter were than snaw. Her cockernony snooded up fou sleek, Her haffet-locks hang waving on her cheek; Her cheeks sae ruddy, and her een sae clear; And, oh, her mouth 's like ony hinny pear;

150 Neat, neat she was in bustine waistcoat clean, As she came skiffing o'er the dewy green Blythsome I cried, “My bonnie Meg, come here! I ferly wherefore ye're sae soon asteer, But I can guess ye 're gawn to gather dew."

155 She scoured awa, and said, “What's that to you?" "Then fare ye weel, Meg Dorts, and e'en 's ye like,” I careless cried, and lap in o'er the dyke. I trow when that she saw, within a crack She came with a right thieveless errand back:

160 Misca'd me first; then bade me hound my dog, To wear up three waff ewes strayed on the bog. I leugh, an sae did she: then with great haste I clasped my arms about her neck and waist, About her yielding waist, and took a fouth

165 Of sweetest kisses frae her glowing mouth; While hard and fast I held her in my grips, My very saul came louping to my lips; Sair, sair she flet wi' me 'tween ilka smack, But weel I kenned she meant nae as she spak.

170 Dear Roger, when your jo puts on her gloom, Do ye sae too and never fash your thumb: Seem to forsake her, soon she'll change her mood; Gae woo anither, and she 'll gang clean wood.

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now,

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Roger. Kind Patie, now fair fa' your honest heart!
Ye're ay sae cadgy, and have sic an art
To hearten ane; for as clean 's a leek,
Ye've cherished me since ye began to speak.
Sae, for your pains, I'll mak ye a propine

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(My mother, rest her saul! she made it fine)-
A tartan plaid, spun of good hawslock woo,
Scarlet and green the sets, the borders blue,
With spraings like gowd and siller crossed with black;
I never had it yet upon my back:
Weel are ye wordy o't, wha have sae kind
Red up my reveled doubts and cleared my mind.
Patie. Weel, ha'd ye there. And since ye’ve frankly

made To me a present of your braw new plaid, My flute's be yours; and she too that's sae nice

205 Shall come a-will, gif ye 'll tak my advice.

Roger. As ye advise, I'll promise to observe 't.
But ye maun keep the flute; ye best deserve 't:
Now tak it out and gie's a bonny spring,
For I'm in tift to hear you play and sing.

Patie. But first we'll take a turn up to the height,
And see gif all our flocks be feeding right.

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Be that time bannocks and a shave of cheese
Will make a breakfast that a laird might please;
Might please the daintiest gabs, were they sae wise
To season meat with health instead oi spice.
When we have tane the grace-drink at this well,
I'll whistle syne, and sing t ye like mysell.

1721.

MATTHEW GREEN

FROM

THE SPLEEN

5

IO

Forced by soft violence of pray'r,
The blithesome goddess soothes my care;
I feel the deity inspire,
And thus she models my desire.

Two hundred pounds half-yearly paid,
Annuity securely made;
A farm some twenty miles from town,
Small, tight, salubrious, and my own;
Two maids, that never saw the town;
A serving-man not quite a clown;
A boy to help to tread the mow,
And drive while other holds the plough;
A chief, of temper formed to please,
Fit to converse and keep the keys,
And, better to preserve the peace,
Commissioned by the name of niece;
With understandings of a size
To think their master very wise.
May Heav'n (it's all I wish for) send
One genial room to treat a friend,
Where decent cupboard, little plate,
Display benevolence, not state.
And may my humble dwelling stand
Upon some chosen spot of land.
A pond before, full to the brim,
Where cows may cool and geese may swim;
Behind, a green like velvet neat,

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Soft to the eye and to the feet,
Where od'rous plants in evening fair
•Breathe all around ambrosial air;
From Eurus, foe to kitchen ground,
Fenced by a slope with bushes crowned,
Fit dwelling for the feathered throng,
Who pay their quit-rents with a song;
With op'ning views of hill and dale,
Which sense and fancy too regale,
Where the half-cirque, which vision bounds,
Like amphitheatre surrounds,
And woods impervious to the breeze-
Thick phalanx of embodied trees,
From hills through plains in dusk array
Extended far-repel the day.
Here stillness, height, and solemn shade
Invite, and contemplation aid;
Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate
The dark decrees and will of Fate,
And dreams beneath the spreading beech
Inspire, and docile Fancy teach,
While, soft as breezy breath of wind,
Impulses rustle through the mind;
Here dryads, scorning Phoebus' ray,
While Pan melodious pipes away,
In measured motions frisk about,
Till old Silenus puts them out.
There see the clover, pea, and bean
Vie in variety of green;
Fresh pastures speckled o'er with sheep;
Brown fields their fallow Sabbaths keep;
Plump Ceres golden tresses wear,
And poppy top-knots deck her hair;
And silver streams through meadows stray,
And naiads on the margin play;
And lesser nymphs ón side of hills
From plaything urns pour down the rills.

Thus sheltered, free from care and strife,
May I enjoy a calm through life;
See faction, safe in low degree,
As men at land see storms at sea;

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