Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;[20] A strappan youth; he taks the mother's eye; Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en; The father cracks[21] of horses, pleughs, and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But, blate[22] an' laithfu',[23] scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.[24] O happy love! where love like this is found! O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare-- "If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale." 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? Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth! Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild! But now the supper crowns their simple board, The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food The soupe[25] their only hawkie[26] does afford, That 'yont the hallan[27] snugly chows her cood; The dame brings forth, in complimental mood, To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd[28] kebbuck,[29] fell,[30] An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid: The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell How 'twas a towmond[31] auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.[32] The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha'-Bible,[33] ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart[34] haffets[35] wearing thin an' bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales[36] 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: Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name; Or noble "Elgin" beets[37] the heavenward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays: Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame; The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.