Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale;

Downward they move, a melancholy band,

Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.

Contented toil, and hospitable care,

And kind connubial tenderness, are there;

And piety with wishes placed above,

And steady loyalty, and faithful love.

And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade,
Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried,
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride;

Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so;

Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,

Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well!

Farewell and oh! where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoctial fervors glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the inclement clime.
Aid slighted Truth with thy persuasive strain :
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that states of native strength possest,
Though very poor, may still be very blest;
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away;
While self-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.

BY ROBERT BURNS.

INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ.

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;

Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,

The short but simple annals of the Poor.-GRAY,

[ROBERT BURNS, the son of a farmer, was born in the parish of Alloway, near Ayr, on the 25th of January, 1759. His father, a man of sterling worth and intelligence, gave him a sound education. The first edition of Robert Burns' poems was published at Kilmarnock, in 1786. Various circumstances caused him to think of trying his fortune in the West Indies, and he was on the point of sailing for Jamaica when he was induced to go to Edinburgh. There he was received with unexampled popularity, and a second edition of his poems realized upwards of 900/. With a portion of this, Burns took the farm of Ellisland on the Nith, Dumfriesshire, married his " bonny Jean," and commenced his new occupation on Whitsunday, 1788. He had obtained an appointment as an exciseman, and the duties of his office, together with his careless and convivial habits, so interfered with the management of his farm, that in three years he was glad to abandon it. In 1791, he removed to the town of Dumfries, subsisting entirely on his salary as exciseman, which yielded him about 70l. a year. He died at Dumfries on the 21st of July, 1796, aged thirty-seven years and six months. His poems are too well known and appreciated to require any enumeration; they circulate throughout all lands, and in every shape, and have not yet "gathered all their fame."]

My loved, my honour'd, much-respected friend!

No mercenary bard his homage pays;

With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,

My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise :

To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,

The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;

What Aiken in a cottage would have been ;

Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween!

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;

The shortening winter-day is near a close;
The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
The blackening trains o' craws to their repose:
The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,

This night his weekly moil is at an end,
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,

Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,

And weary, o'er the muir, his course does hameward bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;

Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin', stacher through
To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise and glee.

His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnilie,

His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile,

The lisping infant prattling on his knee,

Does a' his weary carkin' cares beguile,

And makes him quite forget his labour and his toil.

Belyve the elder bairns come drappin' in,

At service out amang the farmers roun';

Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin

A cannie errand to a neebor town:

Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown,

In youthfu' bloom, love sparklin' in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown,

Or deposit her sair-won penny fee,

To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.

Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet,
And each for other's weelfare kindly spiers:
The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet;
Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;