life's reverses.
35
An', havin' outbraved the rude pitiless storm,
At hame found nae ingle nook cozie an' warm.
Sae fresh in ilk bosom that nicht aye appears,
At sicht o' anither's misfortune or tears;
Yet poverty then gave its last kick an' blow,
For the morn broucht them sunshine and plenty, we trow.
We left them contented, an' wealthy, an' weel,
Yet time's kenned sae aften strange changes to deal,
That wild as the nicht is we'll gie them a ca',
Ar', as our way's past it, peep first at the ha/,
Though the proud Lady Clara's scarce worthy the toil
O' wadin' through snaw to her gran' domicile.
Hech! this is a gala night, ane might declare,
The great muckle windows throw out sic a glare,
An' the sounds, that aboon the hail's pelting we hear,
Like the laughter o' bairnies come glad to our ear.
'Tis Christmas they haud: in this room what a din!
Wi' your leave, little bodies, we'll take a peep in;—
Why, here's a half-dozen o' bairnies an' mair,
Wi' nurses wha feign in their mirth to tak share.
Hae ye emptied the toy shops, ye favour'd wee band?
Sic tiny toy wonders fill carpet an' hand;
Noucht ye ken o' the sorrows this season imparts,
In their fuelless hames, to wee shivering hearts,
Nor aught o' their pangs, little anes, may ye ken;—
But the drawing-room opes, sae we'll noo venture ben.
Sirs the day! here's a room would maist dazzle your een,
Sae rich in its fittin's, yet hamely an' bien,
At hame found nae ingle nook cozie an' warm.
Sae fresh in ilk bosom that nicht aye appears,
At sicht o' anither's misfortune or tears;
Yet poverty then gave its last kick an' blow,
For the morn broucht them sunshine and plenty, we trow.
We left them contented, an' wealthy, an' weel,
Yet time's kenned sae aften strange changes to deal,
That wild as the nicht is we'll gie them a ca',
Ar', as our way's past it, peep first at the ha/,
Though the proud Lady Clara's scarce worthy the toil
O' wadin' through snaw to her gran' domicile.
Hech! this is a gala night, ane might declare,
The great muckle windows throw out sic a glare,
An' the sounds, that aboon the hail's pelting we hear,
Like the laughter o' bairnies come glad to our ear.
'Tis Christmas they haud: in this room what a din!
Wi' your leave, little bodies, we'll take a peep in;—
Why, here's a half-dozen o' bairnies an' mair,
Wi' nurses wha feign in their mirth to tak share.
Hae ye emptied the toy shops, ye favour'd wee band?
Sic tiny toy wonders fill carpet an' hand;
Noucht ye ken o' the sorrows this season imparts,
In their fuelless hames, to wee shivering hearts,
Nor aught o' their pangs, little anes, may ye ken;—
But the drawing-room opes, sae we'll noo venture ben.
Sirs the day! here's a room would maist dazzle your een,
Sae rich in its fittin's, yet hamely an' bien,
