20
“Sair, alas! and sad and many
Are the ills poor mortals share;
Yet, though hame nor bed ye ha’e na,
Yield na, soldier, to despair.
What’s this life, sae wae and wearie,
If hope’s bright’ning beams should fail?
See—though night comes dark and eerie,
Yon sma’ cot-light cheers the dale.
There, though wealth and waste ne’er riot,
Humbler joys their comforts shed—
Labour, health, content, and quiet;
Mourner, there ye’ll find a bed.
Wife, ’tis true, wi’ bairnies smiling,
There, alas! ye needna seek—
Yet there bairns, ilk wae beguiling,
Paint wi’ smiles a mother’s cheek:
A’ her earthly pride and pleasure
Left to cheer her widowed lot;
A’ her worldly wealth and treasure
To adorn her lanely cot.
Cheer, then, soldier! ’midst aflliction
Bright'ning joys will often shine;
Virtue aye claims Heaven’s protection—
Trust to Providence divine!”
PART VI.
Sweet as Rosebank’s woods and river,
Cool when summer’s sunbeams dart,
Came ilk word, and cooled the fever
That lang burned at Willie’s heart.
