What e'er he wins, I'll guide with canny care, } And win the vogue, at market, tron, or fair, } For halesome, clean, cheap and sufficient ware. } A flock of lambs, cheese, b.u.t.ter, and some woo, Shall first be said, to pay the laird his due; Syne a' behind'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 giglit on the green, With dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een, Shou'd gar your Patie think his haff-worn Meg, And her kend kisses, hardly worth a feg?

PEGGY.

Nae mair of 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 with solidity of mind.

They'll reason calmly, and with kindness smile, When our short pa.s.sions wad our peace beguile.

Sae, whensoe'er they slight their maiks at hame, 'Tis ten to ane the wives are maist to blame.

Then I'll employ with pleasure a' my art, To keep him chearfu', and secure his heart.

At even, when he comes weary frae the hill, I'll have a' things made ready to his will.

In winter, when he toils thro' wind and rain, A bleezing ingle, and a clean hearth-stane.

And soon as he flings by his plaid and staff, The seething pot's be ready to take aff.

Clean hagabag I'll spread upon his board, And serve him with the best we can afford.

Good-humour and white bigonets shall be Guards to my face, to keep his love for me.

_Act 1, Scene 2._

Such are the sentiments of nature; nor is the language, in which they are conveyed, inadequate to their force and tenderness: for to those who understand the Scotish dialect, the expression will be found to be as beautiful as the thought. It is in those touches of simple nature, those artless descriptions, of which the heart instantly feels the force, thus confessing their consonance to truth, that Ramsay excels all the pastoral poets that ever wrote.

Thus _Patie_ to _Peggy_, a.s.suring her of the constancy of his affection:

I'm sure I canna change, ye needna fear; Tho' we're but young, I've loo'd you mony a year.

I mind it well, when thou cou'd'st hardly gang, Or lisp out words, I choos'd ye frae the thrang Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand, Aft to the Tansy-know, or Rashy-strand.

Thou smiling by my side,--I took delite, To pu' the rashes green, with roots sae white, Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd, For thee I plet the flowry belt and snood.

_Act 2, Scene 4._

Let this be contrasted with its corresponding sentiment in the _Pastor Fido_, when _Mirtillo_ thus pleads the constancy of his affection for _Amaryllis_:

_Sooner than change my mind, my darling thought, Oh may my life be changed into death!_

(and mark the pledge of this a.s.surance)

For cruel tho', tho' merciless she be, Yet my whole life is wrapt in Amaryllis; Nor can the human frame, I think, contain A double heart at once, a double soul!

_Pastor Fido, Act 3, Scene 6._

The charm of the _Gentle Shepherd_ arises equally from the nature of the pa.s.sions, which are there delineated, and the engaging simplicity and truth, with which their effects are described. The poet paints an honourable and virtuous affection between a youthful pair of the most amiable character; a pa.s.sion indulged on each side from the purest and most disinterested motives, surmounting the severest of all trials--the unexpected elevation of the lover to a rank which, according to the maxims of the world, would preclude the possibility of union; and crowned at length by the delightful and most unlooked for discovery, that this union is not only equal as to the condition of the parties, but is an act of retributive justice. In the anxious suspense, that precedes this discovery, the conflict of generous pa.s.sions in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the two lovers is drawn with consummate art, and gives rise to a scene of the utmost tenderness, and the most pathetic interest. Cold indeed must be that heart, and dead to the finest sensibilities of our nature, which can read without emotion the interview between _Patie_ and _Peggy_, after the discovery of _Patie's_ elevated birth, which the following lines describe:

PATIE.

----My Peggy, why in tears?

Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears: Tho' I'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I'm thine.

PEGGY.

I dare not think sae high: I now repine At the unhappy chance, that made not me A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee.

Wha can, withoutten pain, see frae the coast The ship that bears his all like to be lost?

Like to be carry'd, by some rover's hand, Far frae his wishes, to some distant land?

PATIE.

Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it with me remains, To raise thee up, or still attend these plains.

My father has forbid our loves, I own: But love's superior to a parent's frown.

I falshood hate: Come, kiss thy cares away; I ken to love, as well as to obey.

Sir William's generous; leave the task to me, To make strict duty and true love agree.

PEGGY.

Speak on!--speak ever thus, and still my grief; But short I dare to hope the fond relief.

New thoughts a gentler face will soon inspire, That with nice air swims round in silk attire: Then I, poor me!--with sighs may ban my fate, When the young laird's nae mair my heartsome Pate: Nae mair again to hear sweet tales exprest, By the blyth shepherd that excell'd the rest: Nae mair be envy'd by the tattling gang, When Patie kiss'd me, when I danc'd or sang: Nae mair, alake! we'll on the meadow play!

And rin haff breathless round the rucks of hay; As aftimes I have fled from thee right fain, And fawn on purpose, that I might be tane.

Nae mair around the Foggy-know I'll creep, To watch and stare upon thee, while asleep.

But hear my vow--'twill help to give me ease; May sudden death, or deadly sair disease, And warst of ills attend my wretched life, If e'er to ane but you, I be a wife.

PATIE.

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, &c.----

With similar fervent a.s.surances of the constancy of his affection, _Patie_ prevails in calming the agitation of _Peggy's_ mind, and banishing her fears. She declares she will patiently await the happy period of his return, soothing the long interval with prayers for his welfare, and sedulous endeavours to improve and accomplish her mind, that she may be the more worthy of his affection. The scene concludes with an effusion of her heart in a sentiment of inimitable tenderness and beauty:

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.

_Act 4, Scene 2._

To a pa.s.sion at once so pure, so delicate, so fervent, and so disinterested in its object, with what propriety may we apply that beautiful apostrophe of _Burns_, in his _Cottar's Sat.u.r.day Night_!

O happy love! where love like this is found; O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare!

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 evening gale.

In intimate knowledge of human nature Ramsay yields to few poets either of ancient or of modern times. How naturally does poor Roger conjecture the insensibility of his mistress to his pa.s.sion, from the following simple, but finely-imagined circ.u.mstances:

My Bawty is a cur I dearly like, Even while he fawn'd, she strak the poor dumb tyke: If I had fill'd 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 play'd, ye never heard sic spite, _O'er Bogie_ was the spring, and her delyte; Yet tauntingly she at her cousin speer'd, Gif she cou'd tell what tune I play'd, and sneer'd.

_Act 1, Scene 1._

The counsel, which _Patie_ gives his friend, to prove with certainty the state of _Jenny's_ affections, is the result of a profound acquaintance with the human heart:

Daft gowk! leave off that silly whindging way; Seem careless, there's my hand ye'll win the day.

Hear how I serv'd my la.s.s I love as well As ye do Jenny, and with heart as leel.