IS THERE, FOR HONEST POVERTY. - Burns. Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that? Our toil 's obscure, and a' that; What tho' on hamely fare we dine, For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that, The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that! For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that! A king can mak' a belted knight, For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, Then let us pray that come it may,- That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, It's comin' yet, for a' that, THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT.- Blackwood's Magazine. OUTSTRETCHED beneath the leafy shade A dying woman lay; Three little children round her stood, "O mother!" was the mingled cry, "My blessed babes!" she tried to say, And then life struggled hard with death, And peering through the deep wood's maze With a long, sharp, unearthly gaze, "Will he not come?" she said. Just then, the parting boughs between, "Mother!" the little maiden cried, But long went wandering up and down, 66 They told me here, they told me there, I think they mocked me everywhere; And when I found his home, And begged him on my bended knee "I told him how you dying lay, I begged him, for dear Christ his sake, “So, though my tears were blinding me, I ran back fast as fast could be, To come again to you; And here- close by - this squire I met, Who asked (so mild !) what made me fret; And when I told him true, "I will go with you, child,' he said, 'God sends me to this dying bed.' Mother, he's here, hard by." While thus the little maiden spoke, The man, his back against an oak, Looked on with glistening eye. The bridle on his neck flung free, So while the little maiden spoke But when the dying woman's face My sister! let us pray." And well, withouten book or stole (God's words were printed on his soul), Into the dying ear He breathed, as 't were an angel's strain, The things that unto life pertain, And death's dark shadows clear. He spoke of sinners' lost estate, Of God's most blest decree, He spoke of trouble, pain, and toil, In patience, faith, and love,- Then, as the spirit ebbed away, Such was the sight their wondering eyes Back each man reined his pawing steed, And lighted down, as if agreed, In silence at his side; And there, uncovered all, they stood; It was a wholesome sight, and good, That day for mortal pride. |