THE

BLIND HIGHLAND BOY;

WITH

OTHER POEMS.

THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY.

(A Tale told by the Fire-side.)

Now we are tired of boisterous joy, We've romp'd enough, my little Boy! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your Stool and rest, This corner is your own.

There! take your seat, and let me see

That you can listen quietly;

And as I promised I will tell

That strange adventure which befel

A poor blind Highland Boy.

A Highland Boy!-why call him so? Because, my Darlings, ye must know, In land where many a mountain towers, Far higher hills than these of ours!

He from his birth had liv'd.

He ne'er had seen one earthly sight;
The sun, the day; the stars, the night;
Or tree, or butterfly, or flower,

Or fish in stream, or bird in bower,
Or woman, man, or child.

And yet he neither drooped nor pined,

Nor had a melancholy mind;

For God took pity on the Boy,

And was his friend; and gave him joy

Of which we nothing know.

His Mother, too, no, doubt, above

Her other Children him did love:

For, was she here, or was she there,

She thought of him with constant care, And more than Mother's love.

And proud she was of heart, when clad In crimson stockings, tartan plaid,

And bonnet with a feather gay,

To Kirk he on the sabbath day

Went hand in hand with her.

A Dog, too, had he; not for need. But one to play with and to feed; Which would have led him, if bereft Of company or friends, and left

Without a better guide.