Is there, in human form, that bears a heart, A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth! That can with studied, sly, ensnaring art Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? 85 Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling, smooth! Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled? Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,[43] Points to the parents fondling' o'er their child? Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild! 90 But now the supper crowns their simple board, The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food;[44] The soupe[45] their only hawkie[46] does afford, That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;[47] The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 95 To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell;[48] And aft he's pressed, and aft he ca's it guid;[49] The frugal wine, garrulous, will tell, How 't was a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.[50] The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face 100 They round the ingle form a circle wide; The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace The big ha'-Bible,[51] ance[52] his father's pride. His bonnet[53] rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets[54] wearing thin and bare; 105 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,[55] He wales[56] a portion with judicious care; And, "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim: 110 Perhaps _Dundee's_[57] wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive _Martyrs_,[57] worthy of the name; Or noble _Elgin_[57] beets[58] the heavenward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays. Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; 115 The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise, Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.[59] The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high;[60] Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage 120 With Amalek's ungracious progeny;[61] Or, how the royal Bard[62] did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint,[63] and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; 125 Or other holy Seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume[64] is the theme: How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He, who bore in heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay His head; 130 How His first followers and servants sped;[65] The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:[66] How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.[67] 135