_Pat._ Sure Heaven approves--and be assur'd of me, I'll ne'er gang back of what I've sworn to thee: And time, tho' time maun interpose a while, And I maun leave my Peggy and this isle; Yet time, nor distance, nor the fairest face, If there's a fairer, e'er shall fill thy place. I'd hate my rising fortune, should it move The fair foundation of our faithful love. If at my foot were crowns and scepters laid, To bribe my soul frae thee, delightful maid; For thee I'd soon leave these inferior things To sic as have the patience to be kings. Wherefore that tear? Believe, and calm thy mind. _Peg._ I greet for joy, to hear thy words sae kind. When hopes were sunk, and nought but mirk despair Made me think life was little worth my care, My heart was like to burst; but now I see Thy generous thoughts will save thy love for me. With patience then I'll wait each wheeling year, Hope time away, till thou with joy appear; And all the while I'll study gentler charms, To make me fitter for my traveller's arms: I'll gain on uncle Glaud,--he's far frae fool, And will not grudge to put me thro' ilk school; Where I may manners learn---- _Or sung as follows._ SANG XVIII.--_Tune_, Tweedside. _When hope was quite sunk in despair, My heart it was going to break; My life appear'd worthless my care, But now I will save't for thy sake. Where'er my love travels by day, Wherever he lodges by night, With me his dear image shall stay, And my soul keep him ever in sight._ _With patience I'll wait the long year, And study the gentlest charms; Hope time away till thou appear, To lock thee for ay in those arms. Whilst thou was a shepherd, I priz'd No higher degree in this life; But now I'll endeavour to rise To a height is becoming thy wife._ _For beauty that's only skin-deep, Must fade like the gowans of May, But inwardly rooted, will keep For ever, without a decay. Nor age, nor the changes of life, Can quench the fair fire of love, If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife, And the husband have sense to approve._ _Pat._ ----That's wisely said, And what he wares that way shall be well paid. Tho' without a' the little helps of art, Thy native sweets might gain a prince's heart: Yet now, lest in our station, we offend, We must learn modes, to innocence unkend; Affect aftimes to like the thing we hate, And drap serenity, to keep up state: Laugh, when we're sad; speak, when we've nought to say; And, for the fashion, when we're blyth, seem wae: Pay compliments to them we aft have scorn'd; Then scandalize them, when their backs are turn'd. _Peg._ If this is gentry, I had rather be What I am still;--But I'll be ought with thee.