Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But turning, trembles too. Far as distress the soul can wound, 'Tis pain in each degree: 'Tis bliss but to a certain bound, Beyond is agony. John Logan. 1748-1788 476. To the Cuckoo HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove! Thou messenger of Spring! Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome ring. What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear: Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year? Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers. The schoolboy, wand'ring through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fli'st thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another Spring to hail. Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No Winter in thy year! O could I fly, I'd fly with thee! We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the Spring. Lady Anne Lindsay. 1750-1825 477. Auld Robin Gray WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame, And a' the warld to rest are gane, The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, While my gudeman lies sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride; But saving a croun he had naething else beside: To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea; And the croun and the pund were baith for me. He hadna been awa' a week but only twa, When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa; My mother she fell sick,--and my Jamie at the sea-- And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me. My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin; I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win; Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e Said, 'Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me!' My heart it said nay; I look'd for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack; His ship it was a wrack--Why didna Jamie dee? Or why do I live to cry, Wae 's me? My father urged me sair: my mother didna speak; But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break: They gi'ed him my hand, tho' my heart was in the sea; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith,--for I couldna think it he, Till he said, 'I'm come hame to marry thee.' O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say; We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away: I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee; And why was I born to say, Wae 's me! I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin; I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin; But I'll do my best a gude wife aye to be, For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me.