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lt raptures! bliss beyond pare!

i&039;ve paced uch this weary, ortal round,

and sa experience bids this decre,—

“if heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare—

one rdial this ncholy vale,

&039;tis when a youthful, lovg, odest pair

other&039;sars, breathe out the tender tale,

beneath the ilk-white thorn that scents the eveng gale”

is there, huan for, that bears a heart,

a wretch! a vil! lost to love and truth!

that can, with studied, sly, ensnarg art,

betray sweet jenny&039;s unspectg youth?

curse on his perjur&039;d arts! disseblg sooth!

are honour, virtue, nscience, all exil&039;d?

is there no pity, no relentg ruth,

pots to the parents fondlg o&039;er their child?

then pats the ru&039;d aid, and their distraction wild?

but now the supper crowns their siple board,

the hale parritch, chief of stia&039;s food;

the wp their only hawkie does afford,

that, &039;yont the haln snugly chows her od:

the da brgs forth, plintal ood,

to grace the d, her weel-ha&039;d kebbuck, fell;

and aft he&039;s prest, and aft he ca&039;s it guid:

the frugal wifie, garrulo, will tell

how t&039;was a towond auld, s&039; lt was i&039; the bell

the cheerfu&039; supper done, wi&039; serio face,

they, round the gle, for a circle wide;

the sire turns o&039;er, with patriarchal grace,

the big ha&039;bible, ance his father&039;s pride:

his bon rev&039;rently is id aside,

his lyart haffets wearg th and bare;

those stras that once did sweet zion glide,

he wales a portion with judicio care;

and “let worship god!” he says with len air

they chant their artless notes siple guise,

they tune their hearts, by far the noblest ai;

perhaps dundee&039;s wild-warblg asures rise;

or ptive artyrs, worthy of the na;

or noble elg beets the h

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