I'm overwhelin'd!This, this indeed is sweet;
For still I own my bliss was incomplete :

I fear'd that some repentance might remain,
That you had given your daughter to a swain;
A daughter that might Scotland's throne adorn,
Fair as a rose-bud opening to the morn.
My love! my cousin! far dearer part!
my
Permit me, thus, to clasp thee to my heart.

Sir John. Soon as my sire went to a better life,
I came to Scotland wi' my lovely wife :
She was the very picture o' my Jean,

So strong a likeness sure was never seen.
We came in the same ship which wafted o'er
Unhappy MARY to this fatal shore:

These lands I purchas'd---here I hop'd to dwell
In bliss, and bid ambitious cares farewell :---
But short in human hearts is pleasure's sway,
Affliction comes, and drives her soon away.
As in some day, when winter's drawing nigh,
Low skimming clouds quick rush below the sky;
Now hide the sun a moment, then to view
He stands in glory mid his sapphir' blue:
High on the hill the pensive shepherd laid,
Is cover'd now with light, and now with shade;
Bright on him now descends the glittering ray,
Then comes the cloud, and it too flits away.-
Such is the state of man when plac'd below;
Woe follows joy, and joy succeeds to woe.

Catharine. Oh wonders!

Jean.

Father! why did you delay,

To tell this pleasing story till to day?

Sir John. Soon as I came to my paternal shore,

I found

my father's sister liv'd no more;

That Catharine you, her only child, were led,
To share like her a peasant's cares and bed;
I thought it therefore best that you should still
Keep in that station you were us❜d to fill,
But make you easy in it; there might harm.
Arise from raising you above a farm :

Each in that state to which he's us'd is best,
And by great changes man is seldom blest :
This could not right have been had I reveal'd
The secret to you-hence I still conceal'd :
Frae all I hid it but my dearest wife,
And hence her kindness to you during life.
But I design'd to breed wi' utmost care
Your son, if he prov'd worthy, as my heir:
He far surpass'd each hope, yet I did hide
The secret still: not through a foolish pride;
But that, dependant, he might use each art,
Still to improve, and every power exert.
My joy is full! To me are children given,
Such as fond parents scarce dare hope from heaven.
Adam. We'd better tak' the book, for what to day
Has happen'd-Katrine, do not say me nay!
I'm certain that Sir John has nae objection;'
Your corrupt nature, Kate's a sad reflection!
Were you converted, naething mair I'd crave,
Of warldly bliss, upo' this side the grave.

Catharine. I'm sae o'ercome wi' joy, that ilka day, As lang's ye like, I'll henceforth wi' you pray.

Exeunt omnes.

END OF THE PASTORAL

NOTES

TO THE

FOREGOING PASTORAL.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Cut Short the prayer gudeman.—The fublime of this exercise of piety has been given by BURNS in his Cottar's Saturday Night. That interesting picture, we are told, was drawn from his father and family, of which it is faid to be an exact copy. The author of this scene, which was written when he was a boy of fixteen, has alfo painted from the life. He has defcribed what he was often accustomed to fee, in fome country families which he visited; where the fame ridiculous tone of familiarity was used in the service of the Deity as was ufual with our old covenanting clergy.

2. Then o' a great big weaver he will tell.-The staff of Goliah's spear being compared to a weaver's beam, Catharine, who had not given herself much trouble to examine and analyse the paffage, fuppofed the giant was a weaver, and fought with his beam. It is probable, that the history of the Philistine giants, as much as the claffic tales of

Polyphemus and the Cyclops, gave rise to the antipathy of the knighterrants to giants, so as to kill these poor gentlemen wherever they met them.

It is a heavy case no doubt,

A man should have his brains beat out,

Because he's tall, and has large bones.

3. Ann! rax yon row'n bufs to me.-A sprig of rowan or mountain ash is, as I have frequently experienced in my youth, an excellent defence from fairies, warlocks, and witches.

4. It's a great fifb that liveth in the fea.-Adam had probably heard that the Pope lived in the See of Rome, and thence concluded that he was a fish; which he would be led to suppose also from his being told that he was the beast, mentioned in the book of Revelations ; a thing believed alfo by Sir Ifaac Newton.

5. SCENE II.-See the filver moon on bigb.—I know not well the tunes te thefe fongs, which, being fung by Fairies, may be called Virelays, a word in frequent ufe in Spenfer, Chaucer, and the old English poets. G. Gascoigne, in his Defence of Rhyme, gives the following fenfible and fatisfactory account of Virelays : "There is an old kinde of rhyme called Verlayes, derived, as I have redde, of the worde verde, which betokenethe greene, and laye, which betokeneth a fong, as if you would fay greene fonges."

6. And trip it nimbly in a ring.---The fairies were supposed to dance in a circle, which fometimes ay peared of a deeper green, fometimes of a withered yellow, and within which it was dangerous to fleep or stay after funfet, as it expofed the perfon to elfin power. See a story on this fubject, faid to be common in Selkirkshire, in the Minfirely of the Scotif Barder, vol. ii. p. 226.