SIR WILLIAM JONES. AN ODE. WHAT Constitutes a State? Not high-raised battlement or laboured mound, Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. With powers as far above dull brutes endued As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude; Men, who their duties know, But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, Prevent the long-aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain : These constitute a State, And sovereign Law, that State's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill; The fiend dissension like a vapour sinks, And e'en th' all dazzling crown Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore! Shall Britons languish, and be men no more? Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave, "Tis folly to decline, And steal inglorious to the silent grave, BURN. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. My loved, my honoured, much respected friend, My dearest meed a friend's esteem and praise: The lowly train in life's sequestered scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways; What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween. November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; And weary o'er the moor, his course docs hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, The expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil. Belyve the elder bairns come drappin in, Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. Wi' joy unfeigned brothers and sisters meet, The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new, The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. Their master's an' their mistress's command, An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; [rake. Weel pleased, the mother hears, its nae wild, worthless Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him hen; A strappan youth; he takes the mother's eye: Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en; The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashful an' sae grave; Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the Jave. |