It gangs a' straucht on, and never turns or halts a bit.

Noo ye see, sir, a sang aye turns roun', and begins again, and afore lang it comes fairly to an en', jist like a day, sir, whan we gang to oor beds an' fa' asleep.

But this hauds on and on, and there's no end till't ava (at all).

It's jist like the sun that 'never tires nor stops to rest.'" "'But round the world he shines,'" said the clergyman, completing the quotation, right good-humouredly, though he was somewhat bewildered; for he had begun to fall a-marvelling at the little dingy maiden, with the untidy hair and dirty frock, who had thoughts of her own, and would not concede the faculty of song to the greatest of epic poets.
Doubtless if he had tried her with some of the short poems at the end of the _Paradise Regained_, which I doubt if he had ever even read, she would at least have allowed that they were not devoid of song.

But it was better perhaps that she should be left free to follow her own instincts.