Like thee I once have stemm’d the sea of life, Like thee have languish’d after empty joys, Like thee have labour’d in the stormy strife, Been grieved for trifles, and amused with toys. Forget my frailties; thou art also frail: Forgive my lapses; for thyself may’st fall: Nor read unmoved my artless tender tale-- I was a friend, O man, to thee, to all. ISOBEL PAGAN 1740-1821 _473._ _Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes_ Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rows, My bonnie dearie. As I gaed down the water side, There I met my shepherd lad; He row’d me sweetly in his plaid, And he ca’d me his dearie. ‘Will ye gang down the water side, And see the waves sae sweetly glide Beneath the hazels spreading wide? The moon it shines fu’ clearly.’ _473._ yowes] ewes. knowes] knolls, little hills. rows] rolls. row’d] rolled, wrapped. ‘I was bred up at nae sic school, My shepherd lad, to play the fool, And a’ the day to sit in dool, And naebody to see me.’ ‘Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet, Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet, And in my arms ye’se lie and sleep, And ye sall be my dearie.’ ‘If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said, I’se gang wi’ you, my shepherd lad, And ye may row me in your plaid, And I sall be your dearie.’ ‘While waters wimple to the sea, While day blinks in the lift sae hie, Till clay-cauld death sail blin’ my e’e, Ye aye sall be my dearie!’ _473._ dool] dule, sorrow. lift] sky. ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD 1743-1825 _474._ _Life_ Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met, I own to me’s a secret yet. But this I know, when thou art fled, Where’er they lay these limbs, this head, No clod so valueless shall be As all that then remains of me. O whither, whither dost thou fly? Where bend unseen thy trackless course? And in this strange divorce, Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I? To the vast ocean of empyreal flame From whence thy essence came Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed From matter’s base encumbering weed? Or dost thou, hid from sight, Wait, like some spell-bound knight, Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour To break thy trance and reassume thy power? Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be? O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee? Life! we have been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; ’Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;-- Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good-morning!