A POEM.
49
Their work behind the active rakers ply,
The fragrant herbs around them lightly fly: 280
The panting steeds drag slow the groaning wain,
And deep the wheels imprint the yielding plain:
The maids pile up the stack, while from below
The hay into their arms their lovers throw.
The reapers next appear, a merry band;
A sharp-toothed sickle shines in every hand;
Subdued before them falls the yielding grain,
Behind, long lines of sheaves load thick the plain.
Band strives with band, and harmless dispute breeds;
The rustic jest, the noisy laugh succeeds. 290
As they advance, their lord with lessening fear,
Sees crowned the hopes and labours of the year;
And in his barn-yard lodged, a treasure shines,
More precious than the wealth of Indian mines.
His weary nymphs and swains, behold him call
To dear-earned banquet in his rustic hall.
With ale and music their plain hearts they cheer,
Dance, and forget the labours of the year.
Such copious plenty crowns Carnwath's domains,
And the fair fields where noble Hyndford reigns: 300
For where vast Tinto heaves his bulk on high,
His shoulders bear the clouds, his head the sky;
The fragrant herbs around them lightly fly: 280
The panting steeds drag slow the groaning wain,
And deep the wheels imprint the yielding plain:
The maids pile up the stack, while from below
The hay into their arms their lovers throw.
The reapers next appear, a merry band;
A sharp-toothed sickle shines in every hand;
Subdued before them falls the yielding grain,
Behind, long lines of sheaves load thick the plain.
Band strives with band, and harmless dispute breeds;
The rustic jest, the noisy laugh succeeds. 290
As they advance, their lord with lessening fear,
Sees crowned the hopes and labours of the year;
And in his barn-yard lodged, a treasure shines,
More precious than the wealth of Indian mines.
His weary nymphs and swains, behold him call
To dear-earned banquet in his rustic hall.
With ale and music their plain hearts they cheer,
Dance, and forget the labours of the year.
Such copious plenty crowns Carnwath's domains,
And the fair fields where noble Hyndford reigns: 300
For where vast Tinto heaves his bulk on high,
His shoulders bear the clouds, his head the sky;
