The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.

Of he looks forth, and hopes, in vai,
The blast may sink in mellowing rain,
Till dark above and white below,
Decided drives the flaky snow,
And forth the hardy swain must go.
Long, with dejected look and whine,
To leave the hearth hisdogsrepine;
Whistling, and cheering them to aid,
Around his back he wreathes the plaid;
His flock he gathers, and he guides
To open downs, and mountain sides,
Where, fiercest though the tempest blow,,
Least deeply lies the drift below.
The blast,that whistles o'er the fells,
Stiffens his locks to icicles;
Oft he looks back, while, Streaming.f,
His cottage window seems a star,
Loses its feeble gleam, and then
Turns patient to the blast again,
And, facing to the tempest's sweep,
Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep.
If fails his heart, if his limbs fail,
Benumbing death is in the gale;
His paths, his landmarks-all unknown,
Close to the hut, no more his own,
Close to the aid he sought in vain,
The morn may find the stiffen'd swain.His widow sees,.at dawning pale,
Iis orphans raise their feeble wail;
And close beside him, in the snow,
Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe,
Couches upon his master's breast,
And licks his cheek to break his rest.
Who envies now the shepherd's lot
His healthy fare, his rural cot,
His summer couch by greenwood tro
His rustic kirn's* loud revelry,
His native hill notes, tuned on high,
To Marion of the blithesome eye;
Htis crook, his scrip, his oaten reed,
And all Arcadia's golden creed?
" The Sottish harest-homa