And now he gaes daund'ring about the dykes, And a' he dow do is to hund the tykes: The live-lang nicht he ne'er steeks his e'e-- And werena my heart's licht, I wad dee. Were I but young for thee, as I hae been, We should hae been gallopin' doun in yon green, And linkin' it owre the lily-white lea-- And wow, gin I were but young for thee! may] maid. biggit] built. gait] way, path. hecht] promised. titty] sister. dwam] sudden illness. appose] suppose. pickles] small quantities. hing] hang. dowie] dejectedly. hund the tykes] direct the dogs. steeks] closes. linkin'] tripping. William Congreve. 1670-1729 431. False though She be FALSE though she be to me and love, I'll ne'er pursue revenge; For still the charmer I approve, Though I deplore her change. In hours of bliss we oft have met: They could not always last; And though the present I regret, I'm grateful for the past. William Congreve. 1670-1729 432. A Hue and Cry after Fair Amoret FAIR Amoret is gone astray-- Pursue and seek her, ev'ry lover; I'll tell the signs by which you may The wand'ring Shepherdess discover. Coquette and coy at once her air, Both studied, tho' both seem neglected; Careless she is, with artful care, Affecting to seem unaffected. With skill her eyes dart ev'ry glance, Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them, For she'd persuade they wound by chance, Tho' certain aim and art direct them. She likes herself, yet others hates For that which in herself she prizes; And, while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing hat she despises. Joseph Addison. 1672-1719 433. Hymn THE spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. Th' unwearied Sun from day to day Does his Creator's power display; And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The Moon takes up the wondrous tale; And nightly to the listening Earth Repeats the story of her birth: Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball; What though nor real voice nor sound Amidst their radiant orbs be found? In Reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice; For ever singing as they shine, 'The Hand that made us is divine.' Isaac Watts. 1674-1748 434. The Day of Judgement WHEN the fierce North-wind with his airy forces Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury; And the red lightning with a storm of hail comes Rushing amain down; How the poor sailors stand amazed and tremble, While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters Quick to devour them.