The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy

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W. Gowans, 1852 - Scottish poetry - 129 pages
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Page lii - What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave: Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare: — If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the...
Page 2 - I look down on a' the town, — That I look down upon a crown. My Peggy smiles sae kindly, It makes me blyth and bauld ; And naething gi'es me sic delight As wauking of the fauld. My Peggy sings sae saftly, When on my pipe I play, By a' the rest it is confest, — By a' the rest, that she sings best.
Page xxvii - BE sure ye dinna quat the Grip Of ilka Joy when ye are young, Before auld Age your Vitals nip, And lay ye twafald o'er a Rung. SWEET Youth's a...
Page xlviii - A flock of lambs, cheese, butter, and some woo, Shall first be said to pay the laird his due ; Syne a' behin's our ain. Thus without fear, With love and rowth we thro' the warld will steer ; And when my Pate in bairns and gear grows rife, He'll bless the day he gat me for his wife. JENNY. But what if some young...
Page xlviii - Wi' dimpled cheeks and twa bewitching een, Should gar your Patie think his half-worn Meg, And her kenned kisses, hardly worth a feg? Peggy. Nae mair o' that — Dear Jenny, to be free, There's some men constanter in love than we : Nor is the ferly great, when nature kind Has blest them wi' solidity o
Page 87 - I'll sing you ane, the newest that I hae. SANG XXI. TUNE — " Corn-riggs are bonny." My Paty is a lover gay, His mind is never muddy, His breath is sweeter than new hay, His face is fair and ruddy ; His shape is handsome, middle size ; He's...
Page 7 - tween ilka smack, But weel I kend she meant nae as she spak. 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.
Page 13 - And then he speaks with sic a taking art, His words they thirle like music thro' my heart. How blythly can he sport, and gently rave, And jest at feckless fears that fright the lave ! Ilk day that he's alane upon the hill, He reads fell books that teach him meikle skill. He is — but what need I say that or this ? I'd spend a month to tell you what he is ! In a...
Page liii - My bonny Meg, come here, I ferly wherefore ye're sae soon asteer ; But I can guess, ye're gawn to gather dew.
Page lxxvii - O ! teach our steps to find the secret cell, Where, with thy sire, Content, thou lov'st to dwell. Or say, dost thou, a duteous handmaid, wait Familiar at the chambers of the great? Dost thou pursue the voice of them that call To noisy revel, and to midnight ball ? O'er the full banquet when we feast our soul, Dost thou inspire the mirth, or mix the bowl? Or, with th' industrious planter dost thou Conversing freely in an evening walk?

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