The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy Part 20

_ACT IV.--SCENE II._

When birds begin to nod upon the bough, And the green swaird grows damp with falling dew, While good Sir William is to rest retir'd, The Gentle Shepherd tenderly inspir'd, Walks through the broom with Roger ever leel, To meet, to comfort Meg, and tak farewell.

PATIE _and_ ROGER.

_Roger._

Wow! but I'm cadgie, and my heart lowps light.

O, Mr. Patrick! ay your thoughts were right: Sure gentle fowk are farther seen than we, That nathing ha'e to brag of pedigree.

My Jenny now, wha brak my heart this morn, Is perfect yielding,--sweet,--and nae mair scorn.

I spake my mind--she heard--I spake again, She smil'd--I kiss'd--I woo'd, nor woo'd in vain.

_Pat._ I'm glad to hear't--But O my change this day Heaves up my joy, and yet I'm sometimes wae.

I've found a father, gently kind as brave, And an estate that lifts me 'boon the lave.

With looks all kindness, words that love confest; } He all the father to my soul exprest, } While close he held me to his manly breast. } Such were the eyes, he said, thus smil'd the mouth Of thy lov'd mother, blessing of my youth; Who set too soon!--And while he praise bestow'd, Adown his graceful cheek a torrent flow'd.

My new-born joys, and this his tender tale, Did, mingled thus, o'er a' my thoughts prevail: That speechless lang, my late kend Sire I view'd, While gus.h.i.+ng tears my panting breast bedew'd.

Unusual transports made my head turn round, } Whilst I myself with rising raptures found } The happy son of ane sae much renown'd. } But he has heard!--too faithful Symon's fear Has brought my love for Peggy to his ear: Which he forbids.--Ah! this confounds my peace, While thus to beat, my heart shall sooner cease.

_Rog._ How to advise ye, troth I'm at a stand: But were't my case, ye'd clear it up aff hand.

_Pat._ Duty, and haflen reason plead his cause: But what cares love for reason, rules and laws?

Still in my heart my shepherdess excells, And part of my new happiness repells.

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XVI.--_Tune_, Kirk wad let me be.

_Duty and part of reason Plead strong on the parent's side, Which love so superior calls treason; The strongest must be obey'd: For now, tho' I'm one of the gentry, My constancy falshood repells; For change in my heart has no entry, Still there my dear_ Peggy _excells._

_Rog._ Enjoy them baith.--Sir William will be won: Your Peggy's bonny;--you're his only son.

_Pat._ She's mine by vows, and stronger ties of love; And frae these bands nae change my mind shall move.

I'll wed nane else; thro' life I will be true: But still obedience is a parent's due.

_Rog._ Is not our master and yoursell to stay Amang us here?--or are ye gawn away To London court, or ither far aff parts, To leave your ain poor us with broken hearts?

_Pat._ To Edinburgh straight to-morrow we advance, } To London neist, and afterwards to France, } Where I must stay some years, and learn--to dance, } And twa three other monky-tricks.--That done, I come hame struting in my red-heel'd shoon.

Then 'tis design'd, when I can well behave, That I maun be some petted thing's dull slave, For some few bags of cash, that I wat weel I nae mair need nor carts do a third wheel.

But Peggy, dearer to me than my breath, Sooner than hear sic news, shall hear my death.

_Rog._ _They wha have just enough, can soundly sleep; The o'ercome only fashes fowk to keep._---- Good Mr. Patrick, tak your ain tale hame. }

_Pat._ What was my morning thought, at night's the same. } The poor and rich but differ in the name. } Content's the greatest bliss we can procure Frae 'boon the lift.--Without it kings are poor.

_Rog._ But an estate like your's yields braw content, When we but pick it scantly on the bent: Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, and red wine, Good chear, and witty friends, whene'er ye dine; Obeysant servants, honour, wealth and ease: Wha's no content with these, are ill to please.

_Pat._ Sae Roger thinks, and thinks not far amiss; But mony a cloud hings hovering o'er the bliss.

The pa.s.sions rule the roast,--and, if they're sowr, Like the lean ky, will soon the fat devour.

The spleen, tint honour, and affronted pride, Stang like the sharpest goads in gentry's side.

The gouts and gravels, and the ill disease, Are frequentest with fowk o'erlaid with ease; While o'er the moor the shepherd, with less care, Enjoys his sober wish, and halesome air.

_Rog._ Lord, man! I wonder ay, and it delights My heart, whene'er I hearken to your flights.

How gat ye a' that sense, I fain wad lear, That I may easier disappointments bear?

_Pat._ Frae books, the wale of books, I gat some skill; These best can teach what's real good and ill.

Ne'er grudge ilk year to ware some stanes of cheese, To gain these silent friends that ever please.

_Rog._ I'll do't, and ye shall tell me which to buy: Faith I'se ha'e books, tho' I should sell my ky.

But now let's hear how you're design'd to move, Between Sir William's will, and Peggy's love?

_Pat._ Then here it lyes;--His will maun be obey'd; } My vows I'll keep, and she shall be my bride: } But I some time this last design maun hide. } Keep you the secret close, and leave me here; I sent for Peggy, yonder comes my dear.

_Rog._ Pleas'd that ye trust me with the secret, I To wyle it frae me a' the deils defy. [_Exit_ ROGER.

_Pat._ [_solus._] With what a struggle must I now impart My father's will to her that hads my heart!

I ken she loves, and her saft saul will sink, While it stands trembling on the hated brink Of disappointment.--Heaven! support my fair, And let her comfort claim your tender care.

Her eyes are red!----

_Enter_ PEGGY.

----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.

_Peg._ 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 s.h.i.+p that bears his all like to be lost?

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

_Pat._ 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.

_Peg._ 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 ere to ane, but you, I be a wife.

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XVII.--_Tune_, Wae's my heart that we should sunder.

_Speak on,--speak thus, and still my grief, Hold up a heart that's sinking under These fears, that soon will want relief, When_ Pate _must from his_ Peggy _sunder.

A gentler face, and silk attire, A lady rich in beauty's blossom, Alake poor me! will now conspire To steal thee from thy_ Peggy's _bosom._

_No more the shepherd, who excell'd The rest, whose wit made them to wonder, Shall now his_ Peggy's _praises tell: Ah! I can die, but never sunder.

Ye meadows where we often stray'd, Ye banks where we were wont to wander, Sweet-scented rucks, round which we play'd, You'll lose your sweets when we're asunder._