Rough Scan

CHARLES SPENCE was born in 1779 on the slopes of the Sidlaws, in Kinfauns Parish, on Glendoick Estate, in a cottage now demolished, called Cockerhall.  His birthplace being on the eastern border of the Parish of Kinfauns where it touches Kilspindie Parish, it was more convenient for him to attend Kilspindie Parochial School.  Except for this early training at the parochial school he was self-educated.
By trade he was a mason.  Even in his practical work he showed his character.  What in his opinion he could not properly finish he would not begin.  Once begun he disliked all interference.  He has been known to stop his work even after it was fairly well forward, because in its progress he saw that the end would not be a lasting satisfaction.  His work had to satisfy his own conscience.
His work was chiefly repairing and building small houses and cottages.  Two larger works are the restoration of Kinnaird Castle and the building of the Free Church of Errol.  In later years he was employed by the Threiplands of Fingask and Kinnaird to do the mason work of the estate.  In his leisure time he essayed sculpture.  Several little figures remain which are very neat, and some of them wonderfully natural.  Near "The Wishing Well" at Fingask is placed one of his largest and most successful efforts, known as "The Mermaid."
He fell in love with Jeanie Bruce, who lived near Evelick Castle, in Kilspindie Parish, but her mother was strongly opposed to the match.  The girl died young.  Several poems show the esteem in which he held her.
He was very happily married to Anne Bisset, a cousin of Mr. George Porter, the schoolmaster and poet of Moneydie.
At the Disruption in 1843 feeling ran high in the village of Rait.  The poet sided with the Free Church, and cast into verse most of the local incidents, but, unfortunately, with such strength of language as to alienate from him some of his kindest friends.
The bitterness is past.  Most of those who were most eager in that heated controversy have passed to "where beyond these voices there is peace."  In the later years of the poet's sojourn in Rait in the disused and then repaired and now demolished old Lint Mill at the head of the village, the Laird of Fingask, Sir Peter Threipland, "Erastian and worldling" though he had been called, was yet one of the kindest to the aged poet.
When he had passed the three score years and ten, increasing infirmities urged his removal from the old Lint Mill.  His children had all got "ways of their own," in Glasgow, in Blairgowrie, in Manchester, in America, and in Australia.  In 1859 he left Rait and went to visit his friends and his family, and latterly went to live with his son in Manchester, under whose loving roof he spent the remainder of his life.  He died on the 14th of December, 1869, at the age of ninety years, and was buried four days after in Salford Cemetery in Manchester, where a stone has since been erected to his memory by his children.
Some of his poems were during his lifetime inserted in a Perth publication, _The Tales of Scotland_.  Several more were included in P. R. Drummond's _Perthshire in Bygone Days_, who gave him two chapters of his space, announcing as his reason his opinion that this was the best of the unedited poets who had passed through his hands. Mr. Robert Ford's _Harp of Perthshire_ included another new one, the song of "The Twa Bumbees."  In a book on the history of the _Ancient Masonic Lodge of Scoon and Perth, No. 3_, of which the poet was a member, Mr. Crawford Smith gives as a specimen of his work, "Bird of the Budding Bush."  The following pages give a large selection, which it is hoped will give him a place in the appreciation of his fellow Scotsmen.  Some of his poems are beautiful.  Some are intensely humorous.  Some display a lightness of touch and a beauty of fancy that are wonderful.  Poetic thoughts lie thick in his pages.  We leave the poems to speak for themselves.
The Editor has to thank those who kindly aided him by providing copies of songs, or by reciting them that he might take them down in writing.  In particular, his thanks are due to Mrs. Spence, Dundee, who so kindly placed for his selection her manuscripts and her personal knowledge.  To Mr. Alexander Brough, Longforgan, and to Mr. R. F. Macaulay, Perth, are due thanks for the promise of support in the money risk, which fortunately has not been needed, and for the illustration of the poet's portrait.
The Editor desires also to express his sincere thanks to the Subscribers.  In the worth of the motto, "Lang may ye haud hale and weel."

===J. M. S.





LINN-MA-GRAY, I long to see
Thy heathy height and broomy lea,
Whaur linnets lilt, and leverets play
Around the roar of Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, when to the street
Crowds follow crowds, in crowds to meet,
I wend my solitary way
To climb the cliffs of Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, each mountain spring
From age to age doth tribute bring,
And, rushing onward to the Tay,
Augments the stream of Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, up Baron Hill
I've led my Jean wi' right goodwill,
An' sat an' seen the dashing spray
Lash the dark rocks of Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, when in yon ha'
The merry wassailers gather a,'
In vain their weel-trained bands essay
The minstrelsy of Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, an' ye were mine
Wi' birk an' beech, an' yew an' pine,
An' ash an' aik, I would portray
The loveliness of Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, high on thy crest
The wag-tail builds her felty nest,
And down amid the misty spray
The snipe finds hame at Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, the cushats cool
Their pinions, fluttering in thy pool,
Where sunbeam never found its way,
Far ben the glack of Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, thy hazels green
Lodge the thrush and finch at e'en,
Lodge me, too, at close of day-
I tune my harp at Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, anither linn
May hae its beauties, hearts to win;
But never can they wile away
My wish to muse at Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, the time has been
When I, unchallenged, here was seen
By those who now may come and say-
"Hence, vagrant, hence from Linn-ma-Gray."

Linn-ma-Gray, thy cliffs and streams
What though an earthly lordling claims?
I only recognise the sway
Of _Nature's God_ at Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, the holy sound
Of music in thy gorge profound
Might well the tyrant challenge stay
For those who muse at Linn ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, if I might have
A wish-some friends would dig a grave,
Where they my cauld remains might lay,
Beside the fall at Linn-ma-Gray.

My coronach would be its cry,
Its stream the lack of tears supply,
And soundly till _the rising day_
I would sleep on at Linn-ma-Gray.

Linn-ma-Gray, a long farewell-
Nae mair thy solitary dell
Shall listen to my roundelay-
Nae mair I visit Linn-ma-Gray.

My Wife.

WHEN I employed each winning art
To gain a bonnie lassie's heart,
Who pierced my own with Cupid's dart?
==My wife.

When sinking low in deep distress,
When friends wax few and foes increase,
Who cheers me with an honest kiss?
==My wife.

When want with meagre fangs assailed me,
When slander's thousand tongues impaled me,
Who with unfained tears bewailed me?
==My wife.

Should Fortune to my cot repair,
With whom enraptured would I share
The favours Fortune hath to spare?
==My wife.

Though Law the sacred tie should loose
That binds me to my loving spouse,
Again I'd for a helpmate choose
==My wife.

My Love's Window.

O, WHAT care I although the nicht
=Wi' deeper shades than these attend me?
While guided by yon cheerful licht
=The mirkest nicht can ne'er offend me.
The stars shed but a feeble ray,
=The moon o' fickle loves reminds me,
The meteor's blaze wad me betray,
=But leal's the licht o' my love's window.

A fop loves fashion's brawest claes,
=An' chilly age loves faulds o' flannen,
A shepherd loves the sunny braes,
=A soldier loves the roar of cannon,
A miser loves the guineas' clink,
=A tyrant loves in chains to bind ye,
But mair I love the blythsome blink
=Which comes at nicht frae my love's window.

The pourin' rain, the stormy winds,
=May coot my check and weet my plaidie,
But woe be to the mist that blinds
=The licht thnt guides me to my lady.
Gie mariners a pleasant sea,
=To courtiers, princes' smiles benign gie,
Ambition, power: - but gie to me
=The lovely licht o' my love's window.

The Parting Lovers.

MARTINMAS winds winds frae the boughs the leaves sever, love,
Cauld blighting frosts o' the flowerets bereave ye,
Loud is the sough o' the linn and the river, love.
=Oh, Flora, your Charlie maun leave ye.

In the green-swarded dells, where we wended together, love,
Nae mair we will meet,-and that haply may grieve ye,-
Wi' ither brave knights ye may roam through the heather, love.
=Oh, Flora, your Charlie maun leave ye.

When gloamin' comes on, and the light-footed fairy train
Glides o'er the lea, let nae fond hopes deceive ye;
Nae mair we can meet by the rock in the narrow glen.
=Oh, Flora, your Charlie maun leave ye.

When parted afar, - parted nae mair to meet again,-
The thought of past pleasure sweet comfort may give me;
I will think of the glen, though I never can see't again.
=Oh, Flora, your Charlie maun leave ye.

The Trysting Time.

THE moon is in the sky,
=The sun is o'er the ocean,
The sage looks on high
=While he kneels in devotion;
The lark is in her nest,
=And the hawk on his eyry;
There's a star in the west,
=I'll away to my dearie.

All the toil of the day
=In the hamlet is ending,
All my cares are away
=When the dew is descending;
Yonder hill I will climb,
=Soon the muir I'll skip over;
What is travel to him
=Who can feel as a lover!

There's no sleep in my eye,
=I have pleasures far sweeter;
She is waiting for me,
=By the burn I will meet her:
Journey slow to the west,
=Bonny moon, - I'll not weary;
And, thou sun, take thy rest
=Till I part from my dearie.


=I TAKE farewell of thee,
=I take farewell of thee,
And sore my heart will grieve to part
=From that sweet twinkling e'e.
=When severed far from thee,
=And severed we must be,
Let reason reel and memory fail
=If I think not on thee.

=If e'er a smile I gie,
=If e'er a smile I gie,
'Twill be when I think on that night
=Ye owned your love to me;
=When on the greensward lee,
=Beneath the willow tree,
I fondly pressed thee to my breast,
=And gave my heart to thee.

=Yet dry that weeping e'e,
=Yet dry that weeping e'e,
The cloud may pass, the storm may break,
=That glooms on you and me.
=Inured to grief and care,
=Misfortunes I can bear,
Yet can I not the rueful sight
=Of that sad falling tear.

The Lost Love.

DEAR lassie, we must part!
=That might our ruin prove!
Let others whisper in thy ear
=The tender tale of love.
Could I my thoughts command,
=I'd think no more of thee,
For doubly dear-bought were our loves,
=If love dear-bought can be.

Yet still I'll think of thee,
=And of the slow-winged hour
When first we talked of hopeless love
=Beneath the snowy bower;
So warm my bosom glows,
=Enraptured with thy name,
That thus I deem my rustic hand
=Can sweep the lyre of time.

Yes, I will sing of thee,
=So dear to me's the theme,
And distant years shall hear the lay,
=By mountain, vale, and stream;
Fair Scotia's nymphs and swains
=Shall sing thy every charm,
And woo each other with the strains
=That still my bosom warm.

The tree is not yet sown,
=Whose seed shall plant the groves,
That, listening to our tender tale,
=Shall echo back our loves;
The acorn is not formed
=That yet shall grow a tree,
Whose branch shall lull to rest the babe
=That oft shall sing of thee.

The Lass o' the Braes.

THE summer sun has closed the day,
And noisy schoolboys quit their play,
My darg is out, and I'll away
=Up to the Braes o' Gowrie.
What though the sky be boding rain,
What though dark shadows scour the plain,
And roaring wind rave down ilk glen,
=Among the Braes o' Gowrie?

Where muirland thyme and heather bells,
Bedeck the Shandrie woods and fells,
There's ane there wi' her aunty dwells,
=The fairest lass in Gowrie.
Sair hae I langed to pree the charms
Of love wi' that ane in my arms,
Her very name the bosom warms
=O' a' the lads in Gowrie.

Ae night I met her on the green,
Busket as braw as ony queen,
Her ribbons were o' siller sheen,
=The brawest lass in Gowrie.
I leuch and said, "Fair lass, Good e'en!
How's a' the night?  Whaur hae ye been?"
She told me she was seein' a frien'
=Who lived far south in Gowrie.

I took her hand wi' fond good will,
Quoth I, "Lass, dinna tak' it ill,
Though I convoy ye up the hill,
=Aboon the Braes o' Gowrie."
She blushed, and syne gae free consent,
Her smile avowed she was content,
Sae, hand in hand, awa we bent,
=Amang the Braes o' Gowrie.

The Evening Tryst.

How lovely looks the setting sun
=The crimson clouds distending;
How pleasant is the twilight dun
=The jar of labour ending.
I love to ramble through the broom
=To see the wild flowers springing,
And scent the breeze's sweet perfume,
=And hear the mavis singing.

'Tis not the heath bells' purple hue,
=Nor broom-bield waving yellow,
'Tis not the wild flower wet with dew,
=Nor mavis' song sae mellow,
Which lures me out to linger here
=When daily toil is over;
It's a' to meet my Annie dear,
=And tell her how I love her.

The Tie of Love.

THE night comes on wi' wind and rain,
=The linn roars loud and hollow,
Far to the south my Jeanie's gane,
=And fainly would I follow.
Should she another's heart enslave,
=O may he ne'er avow it;
And should she love for others have,
=O may I never trow it.

There's no a flower like beauty's flower,
=The aid of artists scorning;
There's no a flower like beauty's flower
=Salutes the fair-e'ed morning;
There's no a tie sae tight as love,-
=No other can untie it;
There's no a load so light can prove,-
=Nor gold so heavy's buy it.

The Treasure of Love.

TURN ye, Jessie, hither turn,
Treat my love no more with scorn;
In this honeysuckle grove
Let us sit and sing of love.
Let the rich make wealth their theme,
And their titled honours claim,
I nor wealth nor titles bring,
But I love, and love I sing.

Love can smile when fortune frowns,
Love thc peasant's wishes crowns,
Love is free to high and low-
Few the pleasures that are so.
If love would come at riches' call,
Then the rich would have it all;
Love is more than wealth can be,
Love is all to you and me.

Doats the miser on his treasure?
Can we envy him the pleasure,
Which the world's galling cares
Hallows in his sordid ears?
Let the hero trump his fame,
Glory in a hostile name,
Wave his banners o'er the field-
Love has greater joys to yield.

Though thy friend in Eden were
Would thy friend be happy there?
"No," love whispers, "wanting thee
It no Eden were to me."
Turn ye, Jessie, hither turn,
Treat my love no more with scorn;
In this honeysuckle grove,
Let us sit and sing of love.

The Constant Lover.

I HAE a lass, I lo'e her dear,
=She's worthy of my kindest love,
I hae but ane, I'll hae nae mair,
=I'll ever constant to her prove.
She has my heart, and ever shall,
=I'll loe her till the day I dee;
And I hae hers, and that is all
=A leman asks who loves like me.

When gloomy care and fell despair
=Begin to rankle in my breast,
If thoughts of her find entrance there,
=They win me to my wonted rest.
If fortune e'er, with smiling e'e,
=Beam on my humble lot again,
My lovely lass shall happy be,
=Or fortune's smiles are all in vain.

Dame Fortune needna smile on me
=Unless it were to make her blest,
Without her, what can pleasure be?
=Nae worldly wealth could gie me rest
The flowers may bloom, the sun may shine,
=And friends may try my thoughts to cheer;
But nought can lift this heart of mine,
=Till I am wi' my Jeanie dear.

The Faithful Swain.

KEEN blaws the blast on the high hill o' Gaskon,
=And thick through the Shandry wood drives the cauld snaw;
Yon boughs, bending heavy wi' bonny green ivy,
=The pitiless tempest is tearing awa';
The shepherds, affrighted, their flocks leave benighted-
=All hungry and heartless they lay on the lea;
===But caulder the blast shall blaw,
===Thicker shall drive the snaw,
===Ere it keep me awa',
====Nanny, frae thee.

The broad moon arising, the eastlands illuming,
=The wast was in saft starry beauty arrayed,
When we parted in tears where the hawthorn was blooming
=And the craik's trilling note sounded far o'er the mead.
My first love was true love; I'll ne'er cherish new love
=Though richer and fairer than her I may see;
===And caulder the blast shall blaw,
===Thicker shall drive the snaw,
===Ere it keep me awa',
====Nanny, frae thee.

By Annat's young wood, where the beech leaf now withers,
=Beneath the green pines, where the wild birds repose,
And round the Rait hill, where the snawy wreath gathers,
=Wi' her I hae pu'd the sweet gowan and rose.
Daylight is departing, my speed of foot thwarting,
=For wrang I may wander while drift blinds my e'e;
===But caulder the blast shall blaw,
===Thicker shall drive the snaw,
===Ere it keep me awa',
====Nanny, frae thee.

My Jo's Grey Cat.

'Tis lanesome to be far awa'
=From ane we love,-nae lass likes that,-
Oh, an' I were in my jo's ha',
=Though I were but his ain grey cat.

The wealthy grazier in the glen
=Aft brags me wi' his hirsel fat;
E'er I would wed wi' twa score ten
=I would rather be my jo's grey cat.

Yestreen when I looked to the west
=My heart grew grit, unseen I grat;
Aye when I mind on days gane past,
=I wish I were my jo's grey cat.

My jo's grey cat gaes but and ben,
=And aye when she tak's mouse or rat
He straiks her kindly, - then, O then,
=Sair do I envy my jo's grey cat.

My jo's grey cat sits on his knee,
=He gie's her aye the ither pat,
Blythe would I be an' it were me!
=Oh, how I envy my jo's grey cat.

The heart's Wish.

AFAR to the South I must wander,
=And o'er the blue waves of the Forth;
But sad to the South I will wander
=From all I hold dear in the North.
I hear the cold blast at my window,
=I see the leaves drive from the tree,
It tells me I'm far from my laddie,
=And sad are the tidings to me.

O when shall the hawthorn tree blossom
=And fragrance take wing on the gale?
O when shall I lean on his bosom
=And all these keen sorrows dispel?
Till then I'll oft think on my laddie,
=Till then he will oft think on me;
For true to his love is my laddie,
=And true to my laddie I'll be.

Will ye marry me?

FROSTY winds are flown awa',
Shandry hills are swept o' snaw,
Verdure cleeds the Quilky Law,
=Lambs are on the lea.
To yon cot-land by Rait burn,
Where the bud is on the thorn,
And the yeldrin hails the morn,-
=Will ye gang wi' me?

I hae coft a nankeen goun
Siller grey and sleek as down,
Finer wasna in the toun,-
=It was coft for thee.
I hae coft a satin plaid
Trimmed wi' ribbons blue and red,
And a bandeau for your head;-
=Will ye marry me?

Uncle left me books and lear,
Daddie left me dauds o' gear,
Poverty ye needna fear,
=Wealth is waiting thee.
I have byres wi' ten milch kye,
Twenty owsen feed outbye,
Thirty pigs grumph in the stye;-
=Fear na want wi' me!

Forty hams hang in my ha',
Pewter trenchers range the wa',
Ye are lady o' them a'
=When ye lig wi' me.
Aye till now my heart was hale,
Love now makes my haffits pale,
Canna pity now prevail?
=Will ye lig wi' me?

The Rejected Lover.

WOW, Maggie, wow! what ails ye now?
=Ye shun me on the cause'y,
Though ane like you hae lads enou'
=Ye needna be sae saucy.
Ye tak me for a silly guff,
="A gomeral gowk" ye ca'd me,
Though haply no of siccan stuff
=As let a hussy daud me.

Your minnie, too, draws down her brow,
=And wi' yer tocher taunts me,
And late and ear' adviseth you
=To thwart the wish that haunts me.
Though we've been thrang this mony a lang,
=And unco kind thegither,
My heart's my ain,-tak' yours again,-
=Ye're free to choose anither.

Ye boast o' lads wi' goud and gear,
="The laird's just gaun to tak' ye;"
But, Maggie, ye may weary sair
=Ere he his dautie mak' ye.
What ithers try I carena by;
=O' plighted troths I clear ye;
Nor shall I mair, at toun or fair,
=Ca' Meg again my dearie.

Bonnie Jeanie Glen.

=YE maun bide far ben,
=My bonny Jeanie Glen,
And shun this wintry weather;
=For the day brings weet,
=And the morn brings sleet,
And haar and hail together.

=Swift swirls the snaw
=On the Norman Law,
Where the mountain birds forgather,
=And wreaths on the knowes,
=Where the slae-thorn grows,
When the bloom is on the heather.

=Ye maun bide far ben,
=My bonny Jeanie Glen,
Till the winter be fairly owre,
=And the whin and the broom
=And the spink is in bloom,
And the craik trills in the clover.

=We will gae by the brae,
=At the dawn of day,
When the linnet and lark are singing;
=And come hame by the lea,
=When the honey bee
Her fraught is homeward bringing.

=Ye maun bide far ben,
=My bonny Jeanie Glen,
And stick to your stitching and singing
=Snaw drifts dim the lozen,
=The dubs are a' frozen,
And the linn wi' lang tankle is hingin'.

=We will gae by the grove,
=When the turtle dove
The voice of spring is waking;
=We will come by the dell,
=When the snipe at the well
Her evening dip is taking.

=Ye maun bide far ben,
=My bonny Jeanie Glen,
And haud down din and anger;
=Ye maunna be seen
=Out wi' me at e'en,
Though I should die wi' languor.

"To meet my Jenny."

=AT evening when we'd loosed the team,
=And weary age lay down to dream,
=I stole away a bit from hame,
==Athwart the meadow green,-
The blackbird was singing among the boughs unseen.

='Twas not the sky without a cloud,
=The moonbeam dimpling in the flood,
=Nor blackbirds singing in the wood,
==That lured me to the scene,-
It was to meet my Jenny I wandered forth alane.

=Some court the smile of wealthy men,
=And some lay all their heart on gain;
=I hae mair pleasure in the glen,
==And my love late at e'en,-
Unheeded to wander among the bushes green.

=O sweetly bloomed the hawthorn fair,
=And sweetly scented was the air,
=But sweeter far the kisses were
==My Jenny gave to me,-
And soon she consented my loving bride to be.

Jamie and Jenny.

O JENNY, will ye gang to the shaw, shaw,
O Jenny, will ye gang to the shaw?
=There are secrets I'll tell
=To nane but yoursel',
But ye're aye in sic a hurry awa, awa,
But ye're aye in sic a hurry awa.

My mother could scold in the ha', ha',
My mother could scold in the ha',
=If she kent I were wi' thee,
=And my daddie would gie
His poor Jenny nae tocher ava, ava,
His poor Jenny nae tocher ava!

It's no for your tocher, O na, na,
It's no for your tocher, O na,
=If I had but my Jean,
=I would care not a preen,
For a' his auld charters would draw, draw,
For a' his auld charters would draw.

O Jamie, now let me awa', awa',
O Jamie, now let me awa;
=Though to leave ye I'm laith,
=They would soon be my death,
If they kent I was wi' ye ava, ava,
If they kent I was wi' ye ava.

He gae her ae kiss, that was a', a',
He gae her ae kiss, that was a';
=She replied wi' a smile,
=As she entered the stile,
Oh, I'll meet ye again in the shaw, shaw,
Oh, I'll meet ye again in the shaw.

Is It Love, or the Laird?

O WHERE'S the hame shall be my hame
=And wha's bride shall I be?
I'm turnin' auld, yet dinna ken
=In wha's aucht I may die.

There lives a laird in Hillburn Head
=Could he my favour win,
Wi' him I fain would bake my bread
=I have nae will to spin.

He's neither bonny, young, nor braw,
=Yet gold's the worth that weighs,
'Twill ser' us lang to spend it a',-
='Twill ser' us a' our days.

His girnals aye are fu' o' meal,
=His kists will hardly steek,
And aye the dainty bacon hams
=Hang reestin' in the reek.

When poverty chaps at the door
=Love loups the window through,
And love which ance is fairly tint
=Is found again by few.

My father glooms, my mother scolds,
=And hauds me aye in fear;
My sister is a thrifty dame,
=And toils baith late and ear'.

They brag me wi' my sister's darg,
=And ca' me "thriftless quean,"
But were I "Lady Hillburn Head,"
=They widna brag me syne.

Though Willie be a bonny lad
=Wi' him I couldna fend,
For a' the gear young Willie owns
=Would soon come to an end.

Had he but fifteen hundred merk
=His bride I soon would be,
For O!  I lo'e the laddie weel,
=And weel the lad lo'es me.

My sister Jean would sell her sark
=And gown to win his smile,
But O, the joys are owre dear bought
=That bring ane want and toil!

And I, for lack of world's gear,
=Maun slight the bonny boy,
And wed the laird o' Hillburn Head
=His riches to enjoy.

The Friar.

===THE friar left the convent,
====And waddled up the brae,
===Little kent he ane kent
====Where he was wont to gae;
===The goodman's in the meadow,
====The goodwife's in the shaw,
===To meet the reverend daddie
====Beyond the holly raw,
And the nuns are a' giggle, giggling, giggle, giggle, giggling,
=The nuns are a' giggling behind the cloister wa'.

===The abbess quat her knitting
====And peepit owre the wa',
===The novice through the grating
====Saw him gie kisses twa.
===Ilk ane began to titter
====And hold the nether jaw;
===Quoth the abbess, "What's the matter?
====Swith to your cloisters a'!"
And the nuns were a' giggle, giggling, giggle, giggle, giggling,
=The nuns were a' giggling behind the cloister wa'.

===The goodman left the meadow,
====The goodwife left the shaw,
===The priest for prayers made ready,
===="Come to your vespers a'."
===And he aye sang Te Deum,
====Te Deum, sol fa;
===But the nuns, woe betide them!
====They couldna sing ava:
They were a' giggle, giggling, giggle, giggle, giggling,
=They were a' giggle, giggling, behind the cloister wa'!

The Twa Bumbees.

THERE were twa bumbees met on a twig-
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
Said "Whaur will we gang our byke to big?"
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
The modest miss, bein' rather shy,
Twigged round her head and looked awry,
And gae her dandy nae reply
=But "Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!"

"O, we will gang to yon sunny bank,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
Where the flowers bloom fair, and the fog grows rank,"
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
They sought the bank frae side to side,
In every hole baith straucht and wide,
But nane they saw could please the bride,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!

When they had sought frae noon till six,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
And on nae place their choice could fix,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
They spied a hole beneath a tree,
"O, this our dwelling-place shall be,"
They said, and entered cheerfully,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!

Jenny Wren cam' hame at night,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
And, O, but she got an unco fright,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
She entered in, ne'er dreading harm,
When in her chamber, snug and warm,
The roving pair rang the alarm,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!

Jenny Wren bein' smit with fear,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
Flew aff and ne'er again cam' near,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
Quoth the gudewife to the gudeman,
"When night her mantle has withdrawn,
And Phoebus shines upon the lawn,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!

"We'll gather honey from each flower,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
And when the day begins to lower,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
We'll hither hie, and here we'll meet,
All shielded from the wind and weet,
And a' night lang enjoy the sweet,"
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!

They hadna been lang beneath the tree,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
When out cam' bumbees ane, twa, three,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
Quoth Mr. Bum to Mrs. Bee,
"O, had ye a' these bees by me?"
Whilst jealousy lurk'd in his e'e,
=Tig-a-kcry, twig-a leery, bum, bizz!

Quoth Mrs. Bee to Mr. Burn,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
"They're a' as like you's mum's like mum;
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
I _cowed_ the horns frae aff your brow!"
Quoth Mr. Bum, "O, wow, wow, wow!
And had I horns then to cowe?"
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!

"O, a' ye bumbees, whaure'er ye be,
=Fim-fam, fiddle-faddle, fum, fizz!
I pray a warning tak' by me,
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!
Far rather lead a single life
Than wed a wayward, wanton wife,
Wha'll cause you meikle dule and strife,"
=Tig-a-leery, twig-a-leery, bum, bizz!

The Mad Dog.

TURN out! turn out! arm, holloo and shout,
=There's a mad dog got loose in the town;
Great shall be his award who the brute can retard
=And shall first clour a crack in his crown.

Hurry out! hurry out! stand nae langer in doubt,
=He has snatched at the Bard o' this place-
With venom injected his blood is infected
=And the Doctor despairs o' his case.

"What's he like, what's he like? how shall we ken the tyke?-
=By his teeth or the tift o' his hair?"
He is tousy and black, with a brand on his back,
=And has teeth like an auld Greenland bear.

"Ran he east, ran he west?"  By the kirk-gate he passed,
=With the foam frothing down from his chops,
And twa eyes glaring red, standing out of his head,
=Like a bullock half-strangled wi' ropes.

Hold again, hold again! - See he comes! - Wary men!
=Stand steady and stive to the wark;
Let each staff and rung o'er each shoulder be swung,
=And take care that you miss na your mark.

Be not laith, be not laith now to give him his death,
=For no mercy to him must be shown-
Till you plaster the stanes wi' his venomous brains
=Quick and heavy your lounders lay on.

Pelt away, pelt away! - There you have him! - Huzzah!
=He'll nae mair vomit spite, I declare,
But he passed such a gird, when he fell on the yird,
=All the echoes replied to his rair.

Sexton Smith, Sexton Smith! now exert a' your pith,
=And dig a deep hole for the dog.
"He shall never be buried," said the sexton infuried,
="Sink him deep in a sleuch in the bog."

Bring him out! bring him out! noisy rabble and rout,
=Get an auld clinkered pan for the bell,
And when he is laid, send it clash at his head-
=It's owre good for his funeral knell.

Fill the bowl, fill the bowl! drink to every blithe soul
=Who a loud laughing dirge shall indite,
Since the foul dog is dead, and a turf on his head,
=And our Bard nae the waur o' the bite.

My Ain.

OUR laird lives in a braw new hoose,
=Wi' slated roof and whitened wa';
A dainty muckle braw new hoose,
=There's no its marrow hereawa'.
===Leeze me on my ain house,
====Be it homely, be it braw,
===I wouldna gie my ain house
====For a' the houses e'er I saw.

Our priest puts on a silken cloak
=When he gaes to the kirk to preach,
And stately he stalks through his flock,
=And looks aboon a' body's reach.
===Leeze me on my ain cloak,
====Be it silk or plaidin' raw,
===I wouldna gie my ain cloak
====For a' the cloaks I ever saw.

Our factor has a famous yaird,
=It slopin' to the sunshine beiks,
And beats the bethral's o' Kinnaird
=For growin' grit and lang leeks.
===Leeze me on my ain leeks,
====Whether they be great or sma',
===I wouldna gie my ain leeks
====For a' the leeks I ever saw.

Our shepherd has a collie dog,
=It tak's its tail, and gies its paw,
And hunts the hoodies frae the bog,
=And hauds the sheep in order a'.
===Leeze me on my ain dog,
====As sleek's a moose and black's a craw,
===I wouldna gie my ain dog
====For a' the dogs I ever saw.

Our souter, he has hives o' bees
=A' ranged on creepies in a raw,
Weel scouged wi' shrubs and apple trees
=Frae ony blast the wind can blaw.
===Leeze me on my ain bees,
====My bees sae busy ane and a';
===I wouldna gie my ain bees
====For a' the bees I ever saw.

The Maggots.

THE maggots have nestled in Geordie's hat;
The maggots have quarrelled in Geordie's hat;
There were three of them murdered, and thirty-three grat,-
The poor silly maggots in Geordie's hat.

Up gat an auld maggot, a wonder to see,
His gnarled grey head was so silly and wee,
And he said, after ten times he hoasted and spat,
"There are owre mony maggots in Geordie's hat."

An impudent maggot sprang out of the raw,
And cried, "Daddy, wha hath begotten us a'?
'Tis a foul flyte for ane that's sae faur in the faut
If there's owre mony maggots in Geordie's hat."

Here an old mother maggot skreeched out "Hold thy peace,
Thou varlet, thou viper, thou vile scant o' grace!
Snap ye your ain daddy wi' ill-seasoned chat,
Thou silliest maggot in Geordie's hat?"

Up spake a bold leader - "What means this ill weather?
Are we not all maggots - all maggots together?
Though our number were double - the better for that-
We are all brother-maggots in Geordie's hat."

Some voted for peace, and some wrangled for war,
And some for disruption, the council to mar,
And they tumbled and whummled, like groats in the pat,
The radical maggots in Geordie's hat!

There was swearing and tearing and riving of coats,
And wrangling and wrestling and grappling of throats,
And they reeled, and they row'd, and they foamed and they swat,
What a pob-bob that day was in Geordie's hat.

There is naebody kens what ill drink might been brewed,
And naebody kens what fell strife might ensued,
But an herald came forward with the _rapple-rat-tat_,
And silenced the maggots in Geordie's hat.

And the king of their clans said "Our pleasure is this:-
Ye all instantly hence to your crannies dismiss,
Why bother the state with your quarrelsome chat?
We're _a nation of maggots_ in Geordie's hat."

My Annie's Awa'.

How dreary the mountain, how gloomy the waste!
Loud roars o'er the desert the keen winter blast;
The warblers are silent, nae gay flowerets blaw,
But what sairer grieves me, - my Annie's awa'.

The gloom of dull winter I easily could bear,
And smile at our bleak frozen mountains so drear,
Brave a' the cauld blasts and the wild drifting snaw,
To meet wi' my Annie, - but Annie's awa'.

How happy was I when my Annie was here,
Nae morning was sad, nae evening was drear;
How happy was I at the grey-e'ed nightfa'
To meet wi' my Annie,-but Annie's awa'.

All night on my pillow I dreamed of our loves,
And strayed wi' my dear through the sweet-scented groves,
By the banks of Tay stream, where the mire-gowans blaw,
I wandered wi' Annie,-but Annie's awa'.

Alane to the willows that weep by the stream
I wander and rave to the silent moonbeam;
If sleep owre my e'elids her soft mantle draw,
My dreams are a' gloomy, since Annie's awa'.

How sad was my sigh when her boat left the shore,
And sad was the sound of the wave-weltering oar;
To the rush bank I bore her, in Muirheads lone shaw
I parted wi' Annie,-now Annie's awa'.

The Laird o' the Lonzies.

THE Laird o' the Lonzies was forty years auld
When his daddy was laid i' the vault damp and cauld;
And when he had mourned for a year and a day
He coost off the black coat and put on the grey.

Ae gloamin' when walkin' aboon Ferrie knowes
Wi' his cousin, and talkin' o' horses and cows,
Quoth she to the Laird, "At your time o' life
"It is strange you're no' thinkin' o' takin' a wife.

"The lands o' the Lonzies for five hunder years
"Hae aye been possessed by your worthy forbears;
"But afore they were forty they always took care
"That the lands o' the Lonzies should not lack an heir."

Quoth the Laird, "Ye hae spoken sense ance i' your life;
"For sax ooks I've been thinkin' o' takin' a wife:
"Douce Margret our milkmaid, a thriftier lass
"Ne'er scougied a cog, nor ca'd kye frae the grass.

"She makes the best butter, she cooks the best kail,
"And she bakes the best bread wi' the vera same meal;
"An' I think, if I wed her, ye needna tak' fear
"That the lands o' the Lonzies would lang lack an heir."

"Would it tend to our credit," his fair cousin said,
"To mak' her yer leddy, your ain servant maid!
"Could ye no' think the like o' Miss Lindsay or me
"A bride to the Laird o' the Lonzies mith be?

"Miss Lindsay's a lassie weel worth oor regaird,
"An' aiblins she winna refuse," quoth the Laird;
"Sae I'll stap up to Evlock withouten mair phrase,
"An' ye'll just gang wi' me and hear what she says."

"What a pity the Laird is so dull!" thought Miss Jean,
"For certes he doesna uptak' what I mean;
"I could bite oot my tongue; I had nae woman craft;
"To mention Liz Lindsay I'm sure I was daft.

"We ask not the miller to lool doon his back
"To bear past his ain empty mill the fu' sack;
"It passes a' reason, ilk body will grant,
"Proposin' for ithers what we oorsels want."

The Laird stared astonished; Miss Jean lookit kind;
And noo a bright notion flashed through the Laird's mind-
"If that oor fair cousin our Lady will be,
"Another shall ne'er get an offer," quoth he.

"I wisna just thinkin' to change my estate,"
Quoth Jeanie, "but then, as ye need a helpmate,
"And since ye hae fixt yer affection on me,
"To please ye, the Lady o' Lonzies I'll be."


WILL ye gang wi' a Hielant man
=Wha lives amang the hills, Shanet?
She'll row ye in her tartan plaid
=And guard ye frae a' ills, Shanet.
==Gang awa', bide awa',
===Haud awa' frae me, Donal';
==Your tartan plaid, though lang and braid,
===Shall never cover me, Donal'.

My father was a thrifty carl,
=Had sporran fu' o' fee, Shanet,
I gat it when he left the worlt
=And gie it all to thee, Shanet!
==Gang awa', bide awa',
===Haud awa' frae me, Donal';
==For a' your gear, and ten times mair,
===I wouldna gang wi' thee, Donal'.

I hae a housie and a land,
=Wi' muir and whinnie knowes, Shanet;
And I hae bonnie meadow green
=To feed the lambs and ewes, Shanet.
==Gang awa', bide awa',
===Haud awa' frae me, Donal';
==Gae to your knowes and herd your ewes,
===And tell nae Hielant lie, Donal'.

I hae a braxy and a cheese,
=Cream, butter, milk, and whey, Shanet;
And I hae nuts on hazel trees:
=Dear wow, but ye be shy, Shanet!
==Gang awa', bide awa',
===Haud awa' frae me, Donal';
==For a' your Hielant rareties
===I wouldna gang wi' thee, Donal'.

What think ye o' the Hielant man
=Sae hardy, fleet, and strong, Shanet,
Wha tramps through deepest wreaths o' snaw
=And never suffers wrong, Shanet?
==Gang awa', bide awa',
===Haud awa' frae me, Donal';
==For a your hardy Hielant clan
===I wouldna gang wi' thee, Donal'.

I hae ten packs o' famous 'oo',
=Shorn frae the white sheep's hide, Shanet,
And thirty stane o' lint and tow-
=A' that mith sta' your pride, Shanet?
==Gang awa', bide awa',
===Haud awa' frae me, Donal';
==For lint and tow and packs o' 'oo'
===I wouldna gang wi' thee, Donal'.

I hae a pistol and a dirk
=Buckled upon my thie, Shanet;
And I hae trusty, braid claymore
=That gar the southron flee, Shanet.
==Gang awa', bide awa',
===Haud awa' frae me, Donal';
==Your antique garb and warlike graith
===I never like to see, Donal'.

Feuch, foul may care! she prig nay mair,
=Nainsel nae silly tyke, Shanet;
She tak' the road far owre the hill,
=Just follow an ye like, Shanet.
==Wait a wee, bide a wee,
===Wait a wee on me, Donal';
==My mammie - deed and a' my kin-
===I leave, and follow thee, Donal'.

Ye hae my heart, my hand I gie,
=Sin' ye hae been sae kind, Shanet;
An' ye gae owre the hills wi' me
=I no leave you behind, Shanet.
==Come awa', rin awa',
===Come awa' wi' me, Shanet;
==I tak' ye to my Hielant hame
===And live and dee wi' thee, Shanet.

The Hielant lad lo'e Lowland lass-
=That just the thing should be, Shanet;
The Lowland lass lo'e Hielant lad-
=And that be you and me, Shanet.
==Come awa', rin awa',
===Love the blessing bring, Shanet;
==And hand in hand we tak' the road
===And dance the Hielant fling, Shanet.

The Village Lad and the Country Lass.

_He_-IT'S lang sin' I saw ye, where stay ye now, Annie?
=Ye're grown a braw lass sin' ye left your auld hame;
Ye gar my e'en reel, sae strappin' and bonny,
=If ye get nae wooers, the beaux may tak' shame.

_She_-Oh, didna ye ken that I live wi' my daddy,
=In yon theckit cot at the fall of the linn,
Where a' the day long I'm as happy's a lady,
=The stay of his eld, and the hale of his kin?

_He_-An auld tattered biggin', a' bare at the riggin',
=Is no a fit hame for a cummer like you-
I coft ane last season wi' rooms half-a-dozen,
=And outside and inside as white as a doo.

_She_-Yon canty wee cottage, though now in its dotage,
=All tattered and torn the roof and the wa',
I tak' sic' a pride in, I lang na to bide in
=Your new-fangled dwelling sae bonny and braw.

_He_-Your hills are uncanny, our lowlands are bonny,
=On sunshiny evenings together we'll stray
Where wavy reeds rustle, and green linties whistle,
=Among the dark bowers on the banks of the Tay.

_She_-I'll no leave the braeside for aught on the Tayside,
=There's nothing there matching our green foggy knowes,
Where kids on the rocks leap, and lambkins in flocks skip,
=And the clear wimpling burnie adown our glen rows.

_He_-But dinna ye weary wi' naebody near ye,
=Amang the lane hills and the loud roaring linns?
It canna gie pleasure to roam when at leisure
=By crag tops and tod holes and green prickly whins.

_She_-Awa' wi' your clatter; ye ken na the matter,
=Hemmed up in a village wi' discordant din;
Our whins yellow blooming, the breezes perfuming,
=Delight while I sing to the seugh o' the linn.

_He_-How strange are your notions! if love's fond emotions
=Now glowed in your breast other pleasures you'd feel,
And tire in a week of the pleasures you speak o',
=To budge wi' the laddie that lo'es you sae weel.

_She_-When heath-covered mountains, deep glens and clear fountains,
=Begin to disgust me I'll tell ye the same;
Till then be contented, thy suit is prevented,
=So, villager, leave me and jog awa' hame.

Andrew and Tibbie.

YOUNG Andrew sat on Fronton Hill
=And whistled merrily,
He bore the gree o' a' the glen,
=Nane whistled wi' sic glee.

Young Tibbie Till was breakin' birns,
=The wheeple filled the wood,
And weel she kent the woundin' lay,
=And like a statue stood.

Clear glinted through the furzy brake
=Tib's kirtle, Andrew saw,
And for her ear he thrummed a jig,
=And Tibbie heard it a'.

"When late yestreen wi' spinning Jean
=I wandered down the shaw,-
Oh, had she but my Tibbie been
=We'd been a happy twa.

"Jean let me tak' her in my arms
=And lead her owre the green;-
Had Jean been Tib, and Tib sae kind,
=How blest had Andrew been!

"At feckless claiks that come by chance,
=She clatters like a craw;
But if on love the subject glance,
=Tib skeechly rins awa'.

"Last week I met her on the brae,
=Quoth I, 'We're here unseen;
Now, Tibbie, let us talk of love.'
='Andrew,' quoth she, 'Goode'en.'

"I'll quit this wark, nae mair I'll thole
=Tib's haughty pride and scorn;
I'll gae to Jean this very e'en,
=And a' her love return."

Now Tibbie's heart began to beat,
=She felt a trouble new;
And by the brake, wi' cunning stealth,
=She started full in view.

Blithe Andrew marked the stifled sigh,
=And catched her in his arms:
And Tib was cured o' a' her pride,
=And Andrew blest her charms.

The Courtin' o Kirsty.

THE sun shines nae mair on our low laggin' streams,
The high Law of Norman scarce catches his beams,
The yeldrins are dozing in ilka green shade,
Oh wad ye come, Kirstie, and sit in my plaid?

I tune my bag-pipe on the brow of the hill,
I herd a' the ewes, lambs, and withers mysel',
Save milking the ewes, ye'll have nae other trade,
If ye will come, Kirsty, and sit in my plaid.

When winter comes on, when drifty winds blaw,
And cleeds a' our mountains wi' deep wreaths of snaw,
I'll guide a' my flock to my birk-woven shed
And ye will come, Kirstie, and sit in my plaid.

When shearing time comes I'll hae sax packs o' woo',
And buy a' thing tidy, and fittin' for you;
In red and green russet my dear shall be clad,
An' ye will come, Kirstie, and sit in my plaid.

I hae a bit housie, it's no far awa,
It stands in yon glen where the cherry trees blaw,
In that wee cot-housie I'll mak' ye fu' glad,
And ye maun come, Kirstie, and sit in my plaid.

I'll gae to the muir where the lang heather grows,
I'll pu' the lang heather and win't on the knowes,
And on our wee housie the heather I'll spread;
And ye maun come, Kirstie, and sit in my plaid.


Oh Gibbie, auld Gibbie, since ye are sincere,
If I would deny ye, it wouldna be fair;
Sae tak' me and mak' me as weel as ye said,
And I'll be your Kirstie, and sit in your plaid.

He led her awa' to his house in the Glen;
She milks a' the ewes and she trips but and ben;
He made her as happy as ever he said,
And she is his Kirstie, and sits in his plaid.

The Female Mason's Secret.

I'VE heard of a mason who had a sweet wife,
She must have _the word_, or be vexed all her life;
To please the dear creature, and give her repose,
He blabbed out the secret, - 'twas, "Jack ca'n in brose."

"Thou art the first female who ever yet knew
The secret profound of a quorum so true;
You must not reveal it to Woman or man,
For threatening or gold, do or say what they can."

The dame, being pleased, said- "Fear nothing, my dear,
I would not reveal it for hundreds a year,
Do ye think I could be such a monstrous big fool,
Betraying my husband, despising all rule?

"Since I'm the first woman to whom it was told,
I'll ne'er break the bond of a secret so old;
The mystery masonic, why should I expose?
Yet who would have thought it was _Jack suppin' brose_."

The mason would oft to the tavern repair,
With jovial companions to laugh away care;
One night, when they all had sat down to the glass,
The mason, poor fellow, was followed by Bess.

She swore she would tell every secret she knew
If henceforth he would not bid drinking adieu,
And, fixing her claws in the poor fellow's nose,
She twisted it round, bawling "_Jack coupin' brose_."

The brotherly quorum looked wonderful queer
The secret profound from a female to hear;
How perjured the villain who dared to disclose
To women the mystery of _Jack coupin' brose_.

The poor hen-pecked husband soon tipped them the wink,
They rose and surrounded bold Bess in a blink,
But how they bedumbed her let craftsmen disclose,
She never spoke more about _Jack suppin' brose_.

Beware of the hussies!

I RED YOU, beware of the hussies,
=Or hussies will bring you much care-
I sing ye a sang o' the hussies
=Sae bonny, angelic, and fair.
I trow they will frown at my ditty,
=Anent them my muse trims her wing;
Wow, hussies, it's mair than a pity
=That e'er I had cause sae to sing.

_Chorus_-The lasses a' witchcraft surpasses,
==And callants hae need to tak' care;
=Their smiles and their wiles and caresses
==Would muddle the sage and the seer.

A' evils, of whatever feature,
=Are evils the hussies began;
And ever sin' syne it's their nature
=To prove they fixed WO to the MAN;
Cast back your e'e to the beginning,
=And mark the first fruit of the fair;
Sheer new from the mould they are sinning;
=And draw a' their race in a snare!

==_Chorus_-The lasses, &c. &c.

The stoics sedate toughly wrangled,-
=Philosophers, aye, and divines,-
And yet they hae aft been entangled
=And really bowed low at their shrines!
What matter didactical reason
=Or lang learned moral harangues?
Sic behests come a' out o' season
=Amid thrilling ecstatic pangs.

==_Chorus_-The lasses, &c. &c.

The Lass amang the Peat Reek.

OH, wat ye wha I met yestreen
=Upon the Turnpike High Gate?
Blithe Tibby, stitcher, feat and clean,
=Ye never saw her like yet!
Beyond the muir and mossy dam
=Where ducks the roaring spate seek
She wons, contented with her mam,
=Amang the curling peat reek.

In public throngs she mak's nae show,
=Nae gaudy trappings deck her,
She has nae wile to catch a beau
=Yet a' the beaux respect her.
She hates a cauld, disdainfu' air,
=And shows a bonny blate cheek,
Of impudence she has nae share,-
=The lass among the peat reek.

I ken she has nae store o' gear,
=But a' I hae I'll gie her,
Of puirtith I hae little fear,
=I'll try the wide world wi' her.
For oh she is a clever quean,
=And oh she sews a neat steek,
And I'll be rich, an she were mine,-
=The lass amang the peat reek.

By some my Tibby is misca'd,
=And some thus o' her fate speak,-
"She needna think to get a lad
=Because she smells of peat reek."
I'll buy a cockernonie fine,
=She'll plait it wi' a feat-peak,
And I'll be hers and she'll be mine,-
=The lass amang the peat reek!

Sorry to Part.

IT is the peaceful hour of rest,
=When dreams on weary mortals fa';
Each thing is in its season bless'd,
=And prudence bids us gang awa'.
"Good night" upon the table stands,
=Come, fill it up at friendship's ca',
True friendship now no more demands;
="Good night, and joy be wi' you a'."

Taste we a joy without alloy,
='Tis when we from the crowd withdraw
Unseen to rove with one we love
=By dusky glen or lonely shaw;
Or when we in the social ring
=The nectar from the crystal draw
Till eerie tolling midnight bring
="Good night, an' joy be wi' ye a'."

Should fate my fondest wish deny,
=I ne'er again shall see ye a';
But never shall the sacred tie
=That binds these bosoms burst in twa.
True hearts are few, and seldom meet
=On this revolving earthly ba';
I grieve the parting glass to greet,
="Good night, an' joy be wi' ye a'."

Forgotten by Friends.

WHEN I sojourn so far from my bower by the burn,
I leave nane to give me a welcome return;
Whatever befa's me, there'll no ane tak' blame,-
There'll naebody care though I never come hame.

I may muse the day lang, frae dull day dawn till e'en,
I may stray out at night for a blink o' the moon,
I may sink in a moss, or be drowned in a stream,-
But there'll naebody care though I never come hame.

I may dwine in distress up at Kelpie alane,
And the land of the living may pass as a dream;
I may cry out "Assistance!" and be heard by nane,
For the land o' forgetfulness is my lang hame.

The sparrow and lintie and robin so tame,
They hop about Kelpie their crumblets to claim,
And chirp in the willows that wave o'er the stream,-
There are nae ithers care though I never come hame.

Little Annie's Song.

AE winter day when the snaw had come,
Twa pretty robins fought for a crumb,
The auldest cried chirrup, and the youngest cheetie-chee
And the tae robin pickit out the tither robin's e'e.

Word ran to Annie when she was at play,
Your pretty robin is ripe for the clay;
Fast ran little Annie, the tear in her e'e,
Will my pretty robin sing never mair to me?

She took the robin up, and she kissed its neb,
And she row'd it sae canny in her milk-white bib,
And she straik'd its wing and laid it down,
And her greet was heard through a' the toun.

Gae rin and get a pick-axe, gae rin and get a spade,
We'll dig a grave for robin, and clap his head,
And we'll bury bonnie robin in the poet's flowery green,
Down amang the pretty snawdraps where the sun delights to sheen.

The snawdrap in the spring, when it sprouts aboon the snaw,
By the sweet scent of its flower, it will keep the worm awa',
And the wren will dirge for robin, and we'll croon a waefu' sang,
And we'll greet for bonnie robin through a' the winter lang.

A Rose Bush of the Dead.

WHAT now to me are all the flowers
=That in my garden bloom?
And what to me the birks and bowers
=Amid such rich perfume?

The eye that kindly on them smiled,
=And kinder smiled on me,
Hath left me in this lonely wild
=The dregs of life to dree.

A rose bush at our window cheek
=She planted with her hand,
And screened it when the winter bleak
=Roared over sea and land.

And I will tend it for a while,
=And train it to the wall,
All for the sake of that sweet smile
=I prized beyond them all.

Aye when it buds and blossoms red,
=Her young blush meets my eye;
And when the leaves and petals fade,
=Ah! then I see her die.

Yes, I will guard it carefully
=From every evil blast;
Yea, while the cottage shelters me
=In which she breathed her last.

Auld Lang Syne.

=O WHA will cheer the dreary gloom
==That hangs on life's decline,
=And bring us back the rosy bloom
==Of youth and auld lang syne?

=How cheerfu' was the morning ray,
==How fleeting was its shine;
=The years that seem of yesterday
==Are years of auld lang syne.

=The dear playmates of youth, with whom
==We planned the bold design,
=Are scattered far, and few become,
==Sin' days of auld lang syne.

=The friends we loved are in the dust,
==And we the loss repine;
=Ah! where's the confidence and trust
==Of friends o' auld lang syne?

_Mother_-Nae mair the lovely smile I see
==That yielded sic delight
_Angel_-But lovelier the smile shall be
==Among the Angels bright.

_Mother_-The tiny hands that decked the doll
==Of which she was so fain;
=The feet that wont to dance so light
==Shall ne'er dance here again.

_Angel_-When all the richest gems of earth
==Around thy babe we fling,
=Fast to the meanest toy in heaven
==Thy babe will closer cling.

_Mother_-How fond was she in yonder dell
==With me at noon to stray,
=Delighted with the gay bluebell
==And charmed wi' ilka spray!

=Again fair flowers shall deck the field,
==And leaves the woodland glen,
=But flowers and foliage canna yield
==Joy to my babe again.

_Angel_-But there are flowers in Paradise
==Which never know decay,
=For which the fairest earthly flowers
==Thy babe would cast away.

=Far from this weary vale of tears
==Immortal bliss she'll prove,
=With Him who in His bosom bears
==The lambs of endless love.

=The troubles that beset the path
==Of children here below,
=When past the gloomy gate of death,
==They never more shall know.

=Has friendship lost the power to charm?
==Can age the tie untwine?
=Is yet the grasp of love as warm
==As it was auld lang syne?

=Must soft-eyed pity still deplore,
==And hope her hold resign?
=Can no revolving age restore
==The joys of auld lang syne?

=Lang syne, lang syne, remembered be
==Till memory we tine;
=The dearest friends we ever see
==Are friends o' auld lang syne.

On the Death of a Child.

_Mother_-WHERE will I gae my tears to shed,
==And fill wi' sighs the air?
=Oh, I'll gae to my dear babe's grave,
==And pour my sorrows there.

=Ilk mither e'es wi' fond regard
==Her cheerfu' child at play,
=But my babe sleeps in yon kirkyard
==Happed owre wi' clammy clay.

=The softest pillow in my bed
==Was hers whereon to lie;
=Now low and lonely lies her head
==In her cauld death-claith dressed.

_Angel_-But there are beds in Paradise,
==Soft beds of love and peace,
=Where lullabies the angels sing
==And tend the babes of grace.

Old Age.

WHERE is the strength that felled the oak,
=And pruned the mountain pine,
That broke the glebe, and turned the yoke,
=The strength of langsyne?

Our beards are silvered o'er wi' grey,
=Our eyes their lustre tine;
Wi' feeble pace we plod the way
=We leapt along langsyne.

Must soft-eyed pity still deplore,
=And hope her hold resign?
Will no revolving year restore
=The joys of langsyne?

The shades of eve descend, no morn
=Again for me shall shine;
Nor to this bosom can return
=The joys of langsyne.

"The Gate Above Is Locked."

_On seeing a Notice put up at the entrance to a pathway on a Gentleman's property_.

"WHO here blasphemes?" the pilgrim said,
=With pious feelings shocked,
When on a sign-post board he read-
="The gate above is locked."

This must not meet the public gaze,-
=God is not to be mocked;
None but the Bunyan's giant says
="The gate above is locked."

Poor sinners, of hell-fire afraid,
=Have oft asleep been rocked
When the old arch-deceiver said-
="The gate above is locked."

The gate below is open thrown,-
=Hell is not over-stocked;
Despair would triumph were it known
=The gate above is locked.

Yea, but that gate was locked once,
=When hostile angels flocked
A rebel standard to advance,
=Yes, then Heaven's gate was locked!

But One who held the key of power
=Such hellish malice mocked;
And onward to the final hour
=That gate shall stand unlocked.

The Source of light, and life, and love,
=With sinners so provoked,
Hath never said - "The gate above
=Against them shall be locked."

No sinner e'er approached that gate,
=And for admittance knocked,
For surly porter had to wait,
=Or leave _that_ entrance locked.

At earthly wickets rich men may
=Mount guard with pistol cocked;
But who gave them the power to say-
="The gate above is locked?"

The mandate here is, "From my gate
=Turn all the fustian-frocked;
Against all but the golden great
=My gate shall aye be locked."

Give wealth its will, fields would fenced,
=And gardens boulder-blocked;
Yea, the celestial gate against
=The poor man would be locked.

Now, had it been the gate below,
=Where fiends within are choked,
No fruit of Eve had grieved although
=That gate had aye been locked.

Oh, how unseemly all this strife;
=Oh, how unequal yoked;
The rich and poor, for death and life,
=In direful struggle locked.

Oh, for the reign of harmony!
=Ten thousand laws revoked!
And hostile arms in unity,
=In lasting love fast locked.

All ill eschewed, all good pursued,
=The truth beheld uncloaked;
The freedom of the will is good,
=And both the gates unlocked!

The Two Little Carls.


THERE were two little carls that came down from the moon,
And they had no stockings, and they had no shoon,
But the one had a coat, and the other a sark,
And they ran down the rainbow that spanned o'er the lark.

Quoth the old little carl to his younger brother,
"Ye go to one market, I go to another,
And ye buy a fiddle, and I buy a tune,
And we'll play to the madcaps that dance in the moon."

Quoth the young little carl to his older brother,
"Ye go to one market, I go to another,
And ye buy a basin, and I buy a spoon,
And we'll sup and we'll drink at the well in the moon."

Quoth the old little carl to his younger brother,
"Ye go to one market, I go to another,
And ye buy a hammer, and I buy a nail,
And we'll rivet the moon to the rainbow's tail."

Quoth the young little carl to his older brother,
"Ye go to one moorland, I go to another,
And ye catch a moorcock, and I a moorhen,
They will nestle and breed in our lonely moon glen."

Quoth the old little carl to his younger brother,
"Ye go to one forest, I go to another,
And ye catch a linnet, and I catch a dove,
They will warble and coo in our woodlands above."

Quoth the young little carl to his older brother,
"Ye go to one river, I go to another,
And ye catch a sperling, and I catch a fluke,
And we'll set them afloat in our bonny moon brook."

Quoth the old little carl to his younger brother,
"Ye go to one garden, I go to another,
And ye catch a young bee, and I a young queen-
They will come to us laden with honey at e'en."

Quoth the young little carl to his older brother,
"Ye go to one mountain, I go to another,
And ye pull the heather, and I pull the broom,
And we'll garnish our fountain with verdure and bloom."

Quoth the old little carl to his younger brother,
"Ye go to one market, I go to another,
And ye buy new stockings, and I buy new shoon,
And we'll run up the rainbow again to the moon."


When the two little carls came back from the fair,
They sought for the rainbow they left in the air,
With its key in the cloud and its base on the green;
But the bonny rainbow was nowhere to be seen.

They climbed the high mountain, the oak, and the beech,
But, reft of the rainbow, the moon could not reach;
They saw the sun setting, the stars peeping through,
But they got not one glimpse of the bonny rainbow.

Bewildered and sad they sat down on a height,
And they gazed on the face of the moon all the night;
The younger sat weeping, the elder sat dumb,
And there they must sit till the bright rainbow come.

They heard the cock crowing, they heard the owl shriek,
They felt the wind blowing chill on their wet cheek,
They conjured Pleiades, implored Peter's plough,
"Oh, tell, can ye tell us, where is the rainbow?"

They saw the moon wending away in the west,
The lark, with the dew on her wing, leave her nest,
And singing and soaring the misty clouds through,
But they got not a glimpse of the bonny rainbow.

The sun rose in splendour on forest and flower,
And garnished with grandeur crag, cottage, and tower,
But the carls lay withering, like snowdrops in June,
And never again ran away to the moon.

Next day two young herd-boys cooked up in one dish
The moorfowl, the linnet, the dove, and the fish;
And they found the fiddle, and they found the tune,
That were bought for the madcaps who dance in the moon.

And they found the box,-and the two busy bees
Flew away to the garden amongst the fruit trees;
And they found the basin, and they found the spoon,
That were bought to be filled at the well in the moon.

And they found the hammer, and they found the nail,
Bought to rivet the moon to the rainbow's long tail;
And they found the stockings, and they found the shoon,
That the two carls had bought to run up to the moon.

Lost in a strange world of strange men and strange brutes,
Strange manners, strange language, strange faith, and strange doubts,
The two carls' free spirits departed at noon,
And, wanting the rainbow, flew up to the moon.

When cumbered with bodies they could not get there;
But the spirit is light and can fly in the air;
May mine, when departed, and that will be soon,
Mount higher, far higher, than stars, sun, and moon.

The Ill-Willy White Bull.

TWA sportive calves upon yon lea
=Forgathered on a day,
And they saluted ither wi'
=A lang, loud mutual _Baa_.

First, in a frolic, they would hae
=A butt their pith to try;
Then they would hae a playful skip
=With heels and heads thrown high.

And owre and owre the heights they ran,
=And round and round the knowes-
Whiles in o' sight, whiles out o' sight
=Amang the lang broom cowes.

They weened the auld ill-willy cow,
=Wha weirded them nae good,
Was loungin' low down i' the howe
=A-chawin' at her cud.

But in the thrangest o' the fun,
=Expressive o' their lo'e,
The big ill-willy white bull cam'
=And bullered _boo-oo-oo!_

The proverb says, ill-willy kye
=Have aye short horns to draw;
It happened this ill-willy bull
=Had ne'er a horn ava.

But sic an awesome angry beast
=On earth was never seen,-
A fire was burning in his breast,
=The flames flashed from his e'en.

The frothy lumps o' half-munched husks
=He from his wizzan flung;
While from his slav'ry chafts the slime
=Like dish-clouts lampit lang.

In furious mood he bored the bank
=Wi' his broad burly brow,
And from his cloots the yird and stane
=Far up the welkin flew.

And aye he growled the other growl,
=As ilk had been his last;
And aye the ither gruesome scowl
=Upon the calves he cast.

The scowl was such as Satan gave
=When, in the garden fair,
He marked the mutual happiness
=Of the first happy pair.

The gowd would fley'd an hungry priest
=From roast beef after Lent;
The calves in trembling terror fled
=Away like fire frae flint.

The braiket ane ran east the brae,
=The dun ane down the den,
The big bull bullered, "Death ye meet
=If e'er we meet again."

As growls the mastiff when he finds
=He canna climb like cats;
As grins grimalkin when he finds
=He canna fly like bats.

As stares the fowler when the bird
=Escapes the fowler's snare,
So did this big ill-willy bull
=Growl and grin and stare.

He would have followed as he could,
=But was in doubtful case-
The ane ran east, the other west,
=He kent na which to chase.

And when the ane was owre the height,
=The other in the dell,
He shook his burly hummel head
=And bullered to himsel'.

The yout was heard at Totty crag;
=A' Belvadera rang;
The hares on Lewie brae took fleg,
=And owre to Woodwell sprang.

He didna mind when he was young
=And fleeter on the feet,
How he oft stottit round the stooks
=A sister calf to meet.

And how, when he became a stirk,
=He scrapit wi' his cloots,
And wouldna bide about the ward
=Like ither decent brutes,

But ran awa to unco fauds
=A mile or twa frae hame,
And roared and bored and sniffed and snored,
=And got a blackguard name.

Yet now, when he is waxin' auld,
=And fat and stiff and loy,
He canna thole to see young calves
=At any funny ploy!

The calves were doing him nae skaith
=Upon the swarded run;
'Twas cruel o' the churlish brute
=To quarrel wi' their fun.

All sportive calves will sport betimes
=Though auld bulls tak' it ill;
If he had never been a calf
=He widna been a bull.

The Legend of the Lost piper.

FROM Musselburgh Sands to Edinboro' toun
There's an eerie vault,-it is deep, deep doun,-
And a hunder years and more are flown,
Since ane through that eerie vault has gone.

The drucken, daft laird o' Musselburgh toun,
Sent out for the bellman, and gae him a croon:-
"A hunder pound Scots I'll gie to the loon
Wha will gae through our vault to Edinboro' toun!"

Then up spak' a piper, a piper sae bauld,-
His courage was stout, though his body was auld,-
"If a hunder pound Scots to me you pay doun,
I'll gae through your vault to Edinboro' toun."

Then up spak' the piper's carlin so free,-
"And wha will ye get, man, to gang wi' thee?"
"Ne'er a ane," quo' the piper, "shall gang wi' me
But my pipes and a pint of good usquebae."

They opened the vault, and the piper stept in,
He screwed up his pipes, and they made sic a din
They heard their loud skirl when far frae the toun,
And they heard them aye droning when deep, deep doun.

But the vault winded east, and the vault winded wast,
And the hum o' his drone died awa' at last;
And the vault winded up, and the vault winded doun,
It was mony a mile to Edinboro' toun.

Thrice set the sun, and thrice he arose,
And another day began to close,
"O, weary fa' me," cried the piper's wife,
"For a lonely widow I'll be for life."

But they heard him the Castle hill below,
And they heard him doun at the Netherbow;
And aye he played as they traced his route,
"I doubt, I doubt that I'll never get out."

"Dig doun, dig doun," quo' the piper's wife,
"And save my 'wildered husband's life;
He has lost the latch, the wayward lout,
I doubt, and I doubt he will never win out."

They digged deep down, through mud and peat,
And they digged deep down, through clay and slate,
And they digged deep down, through shingle and sand,
But the weary piper they never faund.

Yet an' a' be true that I hear folk say,
This piper ilk Yule night is heard to play,
And aye he plays, as they trace his route,
"I doubt, and I doubt I will never win out!"

The Castle of Balmanno.

FAIR shines the sun on Earn banks,
=Clear flow the winding streamlets,
Where lofty mountains tower above
=The lowly smiling hamlets.
The lilies white and roses red
=Bloom bonny there, but canna
Bloom half sae sweet's the lovely maid
=Of the castle of Balmanno.

Nae cauldrid frown deforms her face,
=She's ever mild and pleasant,
Though rich she be, wi' manner free,
=She cheers the lowly peasant.
Wi' neck sae sleek, an' dimple cheek,
=An' chaster than Diana,
She smiles out owre the castle wa',
=The flower of all Balmanno.

Oh, happy may the mither be
=That to the warld brought her,
And proudly may the father boast
=Of sic a lovely daughter;
But happier he,-weel may he be
=The happiest in Britannia,-
Who gains the favour o' the maid
=In the castle of Balmanno.

Pursuit of Prince Charlie.

BIRD of the budding bush,
=Sing soft and sparely,
See how the redcoats rush,
=Hunting Prince Charlie,
Beating the broomy fells
=Over and Over,
Shaking the heather bells,
=Scaring the plover.

See by yon lonely cave,
=Wistfully weeping
Over our Prince, the brave
=Flora watch keeping!
Lichen, and liver grass,
=And the moss willow,
Curtain the narrow pass,
=And his stone pillow.

Bird of the budding spray
=Sing not so clearly,
Lest your shrill notes betray
=Him we lo'e dearly.
Sing not so late at night,
=Sing not so early,
Till they have ta'en their flight,
=Flora and Charlie.

Tidings Of Culloden.

AULD Allan dreamed Culloden field
=Was lost amid the cannons rattle;
When tidings to his shieling came-
="Your gallant chief has fallen in battle,
"Beside him lies nine southerns slain,
="His dread claymore is broke asunder;
"Had Charlie had five score such men
="They soon had silenced Willie's thunder.

"There hunders lay, stretched on the muir,
="Nae mair their country's rights defending,
"A mangled mass of wounds and gore,
="Nae friend with holy rite attending.
"Nae pall nor coffin we can bring
="And cruel victor knaves sae near us;
"But we their coronach will sing
="When we are where they canna hear us."

He didna tear his thin grey hair,
=Nor wail like other downcast mourner,
But held his peace, and hid his face,
=And sought the shieling's benmost corner.
He turned his pale face to the wall,
=His brow against the cauld stanes leaning,
And sat there till the dewy daw-
=Nor friend nor foe heard him complaining.

The morning beam shone on the grass,
=And lit ilk rill, and lake, and river,
But Allan never sighed, "Alas!
=Farewell, fair beam and world, forever!"
The barb of death was in his heart,
=His ear wi' inward noises tinkled;
A vital stream burst from his wound,
=And from his quivering lips it trinkled.

His day was gone, his night was come,
=The long, dark night that kens nae breaking;
His e'en were closed in silent sleep,
=The sleep of death that kens nae waking.
They rowed him in his tartan plaid,
=And bore him canny o'er the common,
And round the grave where he was laid,
=They sat and sang his dirge till gloamin'.

Brave Glengarry.

"LEAVE me, and hie to the hills of Glengarry;
Late in this bower it is dangerous to tarry;
Cowardly caterans are hired to betray thee;
Duncan is lurking, and basely may slay thee."

Sad was the groan when the gallant Glengarry
Answered the words which were whispered by Mary;
Deadly and deep was the wound in his bosom
Pouring life's tide on the daisy's fair blossom.

Wild was the shriek of the maid who adored him,
Woeful the numbers in which she deplored him;
Pallid his lip was, yet eager she pressed it;
Matchless his beauty, but death had defaced it.

Dark was the visage of Duncan who gored him,
Long for his valour and love he abhorred him:
Sheathes he the dagger which slew brave Glengarry,
Pierces it not the fair bosom of Mary.

Needless it were! lo, the death-pang is over!
Lifeless she lies on the breast of her lover;
Soon will ye hear the wail of the hamlet
Piling their cairn by yonder lone streamlet.

Yes! cruel Duncan, thou can'st not feel sorrow!
Hang in thy hall, as thy trophy of glory,
The dagger which, cowardly, slew brave Glengarry,
And broke the young heart of his dear Highland Mary.

Thought'st thou the Powers who watch over true lovers,
Whose eye the dark deeds of the villain discovers,
Would left her with those who would forced her to marry
The monster who murdered her gallant Glengarry!

Every True Highlandman.

OH, Charlie, maun ye leave yer men,
=Wha in their hearts adored ye?
Maun ilka Highland hill and glen
=Ring to the drums o' Geordie?
Oh, are ye gaun to France or Spain,
=To leave auld Scotland fairly,
And can ye no come back again
=To mak' us happy, Charlie?

==_Chorus_-Every true Highlandman
===Wails his wide-scattered clan
==And his bold chieftain fain fairly,
===Nae mair thae rocky glens
===Ringing to warlike strains
==Rally thy thousands tens, Charlie.

Ah, woe be to the sons of Gaul
=Wha wouldna aid afford ye,
But left your bravest men to fall
=And yield the sway to Geordie!
Their promised aid was all a sham,
=They've ruined Scotland fairly;
They promised, but they never cam',
=To aid the cause o' Charlie.
===Every true Highlandman, &c.

Had Highland blades stuck to the heft,
=We had to power restored ye;
Now a' our bonny glens are left
=To dastard slaves and Geordie.
Who now will plough the muirland field
=That pays the labour barely?
The barren heath nae joy can yield,
=Unless it were for Charlie.
===Every true Highlandman, &c.

Oh, who the tartan garb would cast
=For those wha would have gored thee?
His latest breath gang wi' the blast
=That winds the drone to Geordie!
An' wha will join the redcoat raw
=That loes auld Scotland dearly?
An' wha the Highland dirk will draw
=Save at the ca' o' Charlie?
===Every true Highlandman, &c.

Hale thirty thousand for your head
=They offered who abhorred ye,
And ranged through forest glen and glade
=To send ye south to Geordie.
The poorest kern in a' the North,
=Though pinched wi' want severely,
For a' the wealth ayont the Forth
=Will ne'er betray ye, Charlie.
===Every true Highlandman, &c.

For leave wi' thee thy fate to share
=I often hae implored ye;
The mountain air can please nae mair,
=It blaws on serfs and Geordie.
Our summer's short, our hairst is cauld,
=Our winter comes owre early;
And nae mair may the pibroch bold
=Call up the clans for Charlie.
===Every true Highlandman, &c.

The clans hae tell'd a waefu' tale
=Since frae your right they scored ye;
A clansman's wae, a clansman's weal,
=Is a' unkent by Geordie.
He weel may act a royal part
=And deal his favours sparely,
But can he heal a Highland heart
=That wails the want o' Charlie?
===Every true Highlandman, &c.

The King's Comin' Now.

HOIST flags on every brent-brow'd height,
=Set a' the whins alowe;
Gae gar your Kate this very night,
=Mak' pob rocks o' her tow.

===For the King's comin' now,
===The King's comin' now,
==Cheer the loan wi' pipe and drone,
===The King's comin' now.

The royal tartans are prepared,
=Dirk, purse, and pistol rare;
Each loyal heart will be his guard,
=And we'll be a' his care.
==For the King's comin' now, &c.

He swears he has a Scottish heart,
=And lo'es our country weel,
And evermair will tak' the part
=Of every Scottish chiel.
==For the King's comin' now, &c.

He'll drink our health in toddy brown,
=And siller round him shower,
He'll visit village, glen, and town,
=And we'll nae mair be poor.
==For the King's comin' now, &c.

We'll a' get meat and claith enough,
=A croft and haudin' braw,
And ilka ane will hae a pleugh
==And maybe we'll hae twa.
==For the King's comin' now, &c.

Ye Scottish kimmers, braid your hair,
=And tight your bodice draw,
The royal bounty ye may share
=Ere Geordie gang awa'.
==For the King's comin' now, &c.

Hoist flags on every brent-browed height,
=Set a' the whins alowe;
Gae gar your Kate this very night
=Mak' pob rocks o' her tow.
==For the King's comin' now, &c.

To Sir Peter Murray Threipland, Bart.

_Sung on the 11th May, 1826, at the meeting to celebrate the Restoration of his Titles_.

TUNE - "There's nae luck aboot the hoose."

O LIGHT a blaze on Fingask braes,
=Set a' the whins alowe,
And wave a flag o' blue and red
=Upon the Jessie knowe.
Ca' a' the neibors to a feast,
=And gar them drink their fill;
Wi' loud huzzas the echoes raise
=In dingle, glen, and hill.
===And let us joyful be,
===And let us joyful be,
==Our Laird is now a Knight again,
===Huzza! wi' three times three!

They took frae him his Castle fair,
=An' eke his Castle rent;
They plundered a' his costly ware,
=And sent him to the bent;
They took frae him the valleys rich,
=That skirt green Gowrie's plain;
They took frae him his upland fields,
=A' clad wi' wood and grain.
===Now let us joyful be,
===Now let us joyful be,
==Our Laird again has got his ain,
===Huzza! wi' three times three!

The Stuarts now maun be forgot,
=Geordie's our lawful king,
Lang may he rule a happy land,
=And blessings round him fling.
And for the deed that he has done
=For them we lo'e sae weel,
The royal cause we'll never shun,
=But meet his foes wi' steel.
===Now join the choir wi' me,
===Now join the choir wi' me,
==Our honoured Laird is now a Knight,
==='Tis just what he should be.

We've whiles been cheerfu' toilin' sair,
=Whiles thought it vain to pine,
But aye we sang a dowie sang
=When we thought o' auld langsyne.
Aft hae I mused on Fingask braes
=Wi' saut tears in my e'e,
But sic a happy day as this
=I never thought to see.
===Then let us happy be,
===Then let us happy be,
==And drink lang health to our brave Knight,
===Wi' three, aye, three times three!

Song for Rent-Day at Fingask Castle.

I'M happy, friends, with those to be
Whose presence brings good company,
But happier far this night to see
=The tenant wi' his ain laird.

What fools to think in ages past
That wealth with lordly pride was cast:
The proper time has come at last
=When thus we meet our ain laird.

With other lairds we find nae faut-
Here's to them a' in reaming swat!-
They're very kind, but, passing that,
=The kindest is our ain laird.

And here's to our good worthy Knight,
My choicest blessings on him light,
He always sought the poor man's right-
=So doth his son, our ain laird.

May every one that yokes a plough
On meadow, vale, or mountain's brow
Have cause to sing, as we sing now,
="There's nae laird like our ain laird."

Now, brethren, lest ye think me rude,
Nae mair I'll on your time intrude,
But this I crave ere I conclude,
=Three full cheers for our ain laird.

Hip, hip, hurray! hurray! hurray!
Away all dool and care, away!
And may we lang have cause to say,
="There's nae laird like our ain laird."

Follow Labourers.

BLEST be these fields: the wale o' corn
In hairst months a' your fields adorn,
Where wi' my Lizzie lass I've shorn,
=A leman swank and wight.
At blazin' noon sair have I there
Toiled with the fairest of the fair;
But aye her blink cam' through the glare
=And made sair labour light.

My back has aften ached wi' pain,
My arms been charged wi' double strain,
And sweat dropped frae my brow like rain,
=To lighten Lizzie's toil.
Yet a' my pain was weel repaid,
When ilka evening saw the maid
Steal out wi' me to yonder shade
=And cheer me wi' her smile.

The Laddie.

IN a' the years ere I was born,
=Was I a _nil_, or was I ae thing?
And, when I down to dust return,
=Shall I then be a nickle naething?
My first mind is my mother's knee,
=When in a dandy frock she clad me,
And, wi' a mother's glistening e'e,
=Ca'ed me "her ain dear, pretty laddie."

Could time three-score years backward rin,
=And I the counter whirl stand steady,
If wisdom's pale could hold me in,
=Might I no wish I were a laddie?
I ran round hillocks, row'd down braes,
=Till I nae langer could stand steady;
I bored through bushes, gathered slaes-
=My father ca'ed me "stupid laddie."

I pu'ed the rushes, planted flowers,
=And biggit mills and grun' the meldrens,
And wi' lang brackens busket bowers,
=And robbed the nests of yellow yeldrens.
I got astride our collie dog,
=And off I cantered crouse and vaudie;
But collie left me in the bog,
=A mittled, mertered, drooket laddie.

There was a bower on yon brae tap,
=They ca'ed it laddie's summer hoosie,
There aft I sat on sister's lap,
=And peeled saugh wands and straikit pussy.
The carpet was by nature spread,
=The roof was theekit by my daddy,
When first I to that bower was led
=Oh, then I was a happy laddie.

I chased bumbees and butterflees,
=Birzed through thorn hedges fu' o' prickles,
I wade the ditches to the thees,
=And catched lang eels and wee bran' strickles;
I climbed high crags for hawks and kaes
=Till I was like a scarecrow duddie-
My mither winkit at my claes,
=And ca'ed me her "ain spunkie laddie."

Winter came, and through the wood
=And down the glen snawdrift came whirling,
Now sighing safe, now shrieking loud,
=Around hamestead and stackyard whirling;
I ran awa' the sight to see,
=Bare-headed, barfit, wantin' plaidie,
My father chased me owre the lea,
=And cadged me hame a skirling laddie.

Summer came, in robes of green,
=Like a maid to meet her lover,
Shouting to the flowers unseen,
="Laggards, up, the winter's over!"
Now I got new trews and coat,
=And stalked about in trappings vaudie,
My father ca'ed me "breekimtot,"
=My mither ca'ed me "strappin' laddie."

Like soft wind sighing o'er the waste,
=Tirling the seared leaves of December,
My teens, lang syne a' wi' the past,
=I at lang intervals remember.
My fifty and my sixty gane,-
=Gane like a noiseless fleeting shaddie,
Now flickering near the grey gravestane-
=And still I find mysel' a laddie.

One foot already in the grave,
=The ither on the loose bank following,
No prayer vouchsafed from death to save,
=Death like a bull of Bashan bellowing.
Come death to-morrow or to-day,
=Come it fair, or foul, or blawdie,
Come it how or when it may,
=Oh, shall I then be but a laddie?

Had I, since years wi' me began,
=To sound and safe advice attended,
I might have lived to be a man,
=And a' my days in wisdom ended.
Lang ha'e I trod in folly's path,
=Sair jogged wi' thorns and nettles scaudie,
And at the near approach of death
=Must I proclaim mysel' a laddie.

The Parting Glass.

THE moon is in the milky way,
The bat flaps round the castle grey;
Reynard is prowling for his prey;
The lark longs for the morning.

=_Chorus_-Come, lads, take off your glasses a',
==And drink to wives and lasses a',
==For every hour that steals awa'
==Still nearer brings the morning.

The hare skips on the dewy hill,
The mouse is nibbling in the mill;
Auld uncle rotten robs the kiln
To get his winter corn in.
==Come, lads, take off, &c.

Auld Bailie Brown has gone to bed,
The priest his evening prayer has said,
The bride will rest her bonny head
Belike ere it be morning.
==Come, lads, take off, &c.

Rab's dame is scolding on the street
With unpared nails poor Rob to meet;
The twittering shilfa cries _wit wit_
And flies his way in the morning.
==Come, lads, take off, &c.

The midnight thieves in ambush lie,
The stars are dimming in the sky;
Well have we drunk, still we are dry,
And fear a drouthy morning.
==Come, lads, take off, &c.

Bring ben the tappit-hen brim fu',
Less wouldna weet each drouthy mou';
Each hill will have its drop o' dew,
And so will we ere morning.
==Come, lads, take off, &c.

Mungo Wylie's Elegy.

THE morning came, clear gleamed the dew,
The craiking craws owre Flawcraig flew,
The work-horse hobbled to the pleugh
=Wi' clanking rattle,
The herd on collie cried "Halloo,"
=To hunt the cattle.

Alang the hedge of holly green,
Slow pacing Willie Waught was seen,
He had not winkit since yestreen;
=Some doolfu' cares
Hang at his bosom, for his e'en
=Were fu' o' tears.

At some short distance on the road
Sat Saunders Syrup on a sod;
His craig was bare, his feet unshod,
=His knees untied;
With fingers fumbling at a clod
=He groaned and sighed.

Will Waught drew near, and owre a harrow
Reclined with Saunders to vend sorrow;
The briny flood, the deepening furrow
=Of moil I marked;
And what was said, behind a burrow
=I cow'red and harked.

First Saunders Syrup spake, and yawned,-
"Oh, Willie Waught, lend me yer hand,
You, only you, can understand
=My cause of woe;
Nae power this tide can countermand,
=My tears must flow.

"Oh, never strive to comfort me,
For comforted I will not be;
They're dead and gone that I would see
=But can see never;
Oh that each tear that weets my e'e
=Was like a river."

"Greet on, greet on," cried Willie Waught,
"With lifted hand I greet braid-flaught,
May I again ne'er draw a draught
=From stoup or bottle
If ever more I make one maught
=Your grief to throttle.

"Our cause of woe is passing common,
It cannot cure by careless roamin';
The rosy morn, the grey-eyed gloamin'
=Nae mair can please,
Nor linnet song, nor flowerlet bloomin'
=Our spirits raise.

"The craiging kail without the tallie,
The snashes of our proud toun Bailie,
The scornful slights frae Tib Carmylie,
=Are trifles small,
But, oh, the death of Mungo Wylie
=Surpasses all!

"Since ever I could lisp a letter,
Or even distinguish pie from platter,
Or port from gin, or ale from water,
=Or land from sea,
In friendship I have been his debtor,
=And aye will be.

"His kindness I can ne'er repay,
Though I have wished it many a day;
What can I do, now he's away
=Not to return,
But sigh and cry a well-a-day,
=At his cold urn?

"He once was fleet as any stirk,
Could spanged wide ditches in the mirk,
And climbed the smoothest, tallest birk,
=And perched high on it;
He aye came foremost from the kirk,
=And dang Pate Donet.

"Long was he doilt wi' sprains and blotches,
And rheumatism pains and twitches,
Lang hirpled through the toun on crutches,
=Sair, sair decrepit;
Though once a day before mail coaches
=He could have skippit.

"I mind when first to Rait I cam',-
That year Tam Soutar built our dam,-
Dear Mungo sold the stiffest dram
=In a' the toun;
It put your breast a' in a flame
=When it slid doun!

"It never made ye dowed or sick
Though ye had bibbled for a week;
He dealt aye in the pure peat-reek,
=Your wit aye cleared up,
While aye the other blazing beek
=Of pob was steered up.

"Ye ken, for ye hae oft been wi' us,
Oft 'quat the Osenborg' to see us,
All earthly cumber seemed to flee us,
=Nae ill could happen
When Mungo took in hand to gie us
=His hearty chapin."

Robin's Barley.

MET ye our Robin last week in the vennel,
=Sellin' his bear by the sample we saw?
The merchants flocked round him like dogs in their kennel,
=When Peebles appears wi' kail brose to their maw.
Pae, Hutchison, Wright, Wallace, Clark, and Maclaren,
=Roy, Livingstone, Thomson, and Lindsay press near,
Like bairns round sweetie-wives fleeching for fairin',
=A' swearing sic barley could never be dear.

Now, Robin could higgle, and haud them at parley;
=He stack to his price like stiff lime to the wa';
Plashmill and Clockserrie bade sair for the barley,
=But Plashmill bade bauldest and bought the bear a'.
Ilk grain was as grit as the bean we ca' turkey!
=The colour of amber, or ripe tatie shaw;
Wi' stogs at the end like a _skian dhu_ to dirk ye,
=When Robin inclined the fell weapon to draw.

It dang Rory's best naig to tug in the bushel!
=Near Glengarry Cottage it drap't on its knee:
For cartin' and ploughin' nae mair worth a mussel,
=The puir naig was left at Bridgend Tannerie.
Wae's heart for the bark that this bushel was tied on!
=A humphy for ever the owner maun be;
And, ah me! the weigh-bauk this bushel was weighed on
=Can never weigh mair-it was broken in three!

The beer that was made o' this bear was sae gusty
=It filled a' the farmers in Perth roarin' fu'!
Three waughts made daft Pate and Jock Kissie sae lusty
=The gate of the Greyfriars scarce let them through.
Oh, lease me on Robin, our rantin' rede carl,
=Lang may he haud wi' his fit at the ba'!
Robin's the birkie for raising the barley,
=Lang may his locks shun the colour o' snaw.

Quoth our Goodwife to our Goodman.

DEAR, how are a' your duds sae clean?
They were an awfu' sight yestreen!
In Easson's Inn ye have not been,
=Ye're no sae fu' as ye used to be.

Your cheeks glance like a polished peen,
The lowe o' love is in your e'en,
You make me happy as a queen,
=Ye're no sae fu' as ye used to be.

You're welcomer to me at night
Than supper, coal, and candle-light;
Aye when I see you're standing straight,
=And no sae fu' as ye used to be.

Ye mind when ye fell on the floor,
And ga'e your cranium sic a cloor?
That happened when ye was, I'm sure,
=Fu'-fu'er than ye used to be.

Yon day ye bought frae Geordie Gled
A melder, mited, rotten red,
And at your brose ye owned ye had
=Been fu'er than ye used to be.

That time ye fell and tint your fee,
"The murky night" was a' your plea,
When half-an-e'e could see that ye
=Was fu'er than ye used to be.

When with auld cronies on the spree,
Ye never think of mine and me,
For pounds ye dinna care a flee
=When fu'er than ye used to be.

Last Yule the tears fell frae my e'e
When lang and sair ye scolded me;
And that a' came to pass when ye
=Was fu'er than ye used to be.

When wi' the rabble ye tak' up,
And wi' wauf vagrants drain the cup,
Nor steer your stumps for call nor whup,
=Ye're fu'er than ye used to be.

When mixin' up the toddy hot,
And steamin' pot comes after pot,
Old age and grey hairs are forgot,
=Ye're fu'er than ye used to be.

Tom Duncan twa fierce beagles sent,
And we were threatened wi' the bent!
Ah, ye forgot to pay our rent
=When fu'er than ye used to be.

Let us begin a life that's new,
And holy, sober paths pursue;
Let it nae mair be said ye're fu'
=And foolish as ye used to be.

Teetotalism ye will join,
Nor mair for poison part wi' coin,
This night wi' thee the pledge I'll sign,
=And fu' again ye'll never be.

The Clear Mountain Dew.

To farmers give furrows that bear a rich crop,
And give to the merchant a well-furnished shop,
To statesmen give honour, to black-gowns a bow,
=But give me a drop of the clear mountain dew.

To landlords give tenants that pay a large rent,
To poets give fame, and to painters give paint,
To lads give braw lasses, to prudes give a pew;
=But give me a drop of the clear mountain dew.

The mountain dew makes the dunce witty and bright,
The miser free-handed, the coward to fight,
The hypocrite's veil you may peep through and through
=When you give him a drop of the clear mountain dew.

When wearied with toil for the poor penny fee,
And scarcely can lay your leg over your knee,
It will supple your joints and fresh vigour renew,
A little sweet drop of the clear mountain dew.

When the doctor has failed to put beef on your bones,
When dull melancholy assails you with groans,
When your cronies grow crabbed, cold-hearted, and few,
=Just give them a drop of the clear mountain dew.

When the keen winter blast makes you shiver with cold,
When your blood waxes thin, and your body grows old,
When scarce a grey lock straggles over your brow,
=Just try a small drop of the clear mountain dew.

Fareweel to Gowrie.

THIS night we come to tak' fareweel,
=And thank ye for your favours a',
For which we grateful lang shall feel,
=And croosely cock our beavers a'.
===Fareweel to Gowrie, O!
===Fareweel to Gowrie, O!
==Lang wave your fields wi' golden grain,
==And a' that's good watch owre ye, O.

The langer we have tarried here,
=The langer we could tarry, O;
Aye, we could stay another year,
=But ye of us would weary, O.
===Fareweel, &c.

Adieu to those who would beguile
=Our feet the quag to sink upon;
Adieu to those whose friendly smile
=Will cheer us lang to think upon.
===Fareweel, &c.

Should fortune this way turn our car,
=And we a passage tak' again,
Like friends returning from afar,
=Will ye us welcome back again?
===Fareweel, &c.

Our time is out, we maun away,
='Mongst strangers to look bluff again;
Your bill is clear, there's nought to pay,
=But just your auld kind ruff again.
===Fareweel, &c.

The Poet.

OH, hear me, ye clear-flowing fountains;
=Ye grottoes, attend to my song;
Oh, hear me, ye pine-covered mountains,
=And echo my musings along.

I sing, all unknown and unknowing,
=Ye warblers, attend to my lay;
A flame in my fancy is glowing,
=While through thy dark coverts I stray.

No fresh laurels wave o'er my ditty,
=Fame's trump never clangs in my ear,
I never denounce that a pity,
=I call it "the demon of care."

No patron's or patroness' favour
=Fans the flame in my bosom that glows;
In the low vale of life I'll walk ever
=Till death call me home to repose.

Fame's frenzy, her winning caresses
=I court not; fame knows not my name;
Where hope comes not, no fear distresses,
=I dream not, I dote not on fame.

I sing to the clear flowing fountains;
=The grottoes attend to my song;
I sing to the pine-covered mountains,
=They echo my musings along.

After Errol Winter Market.

THE cloud of night on Gowrie hung,
And Evelick curfew bell was rung,
Keen hoar-frost crept through street and lane
And powdered every causeway stane;
The kye were coft that thronged the loan,
By coupers come from Cally Struan;
And all the marketry was through
Of Shetland hose and brouket woo';
The herds of swine had masters changed,
And homeward routes were all arranged;
Long-hoarded pennies, pounds, and placks,
Deposited in stranger packs;
And onions, at a price begrudged,
Off to the North on shelties budged.

Alack for cattle and swine coupers,
And peddlars and sic-like land-loupers!
Our Market Day is little heeded,
And every coming year less needed!
But Errol Winter Market Night
The Gowrie cronies never slight.

Night! set apart for pies and porter,
Ye would not done had ye been shorter!
A shorter night for quaffing toddy
Could never fitted any body-
At least when I got on the spree
I trow it never fitted me!
Nor envy I the menseless wight
Who would have wished a July night.

From Ship-briggs, Balcauk, Horn, Rait, Hull,
Daleila, Pitcog, Mains, Bog-mill,
Craigdailly, Flawcraig, Flatfield, Loan,
Clashbenny, Gallowflat, Hawkstone,
Mammies, Ardgaith, Aithmuir, Powgavie,
And Grange, they come in many bevy-
In fine, from all the neighbour clachans
They throng, ensconced in cloaks and rauchans.

The school-boy curlers quit the ice,
And at the raffle throw the dice;
Or throng round Lizzie's lucky-pock,
And draw the card, and try their luck;
Maimed Hepburn from the croft-gate cries
"Come, buy my hot and tottling pies!
Fine mutton pies, fat, piping hot,
One for a penny, four a groat."

On sills the bun and fancy bread
By Syme, and Bruce, and Boyd are spread;
And all their oven mouths are teeming
With chicken chops in gravy swimming;
And tarts and every confect rare
That tempts the tooth, were ready there.

Our teachers shelve the Grays and grammars;
Smiths, wrights, and masons drop the hammers;
In cordwainers' and cobblers' stalls
Lie idle lingans, lasts and awls;
In weaving shops the datter ceases,
And beards are shorn from father faces;
All village work is at a stand-
Who now to work would put a hand?
The peddling thrift of penny-winners
Is gone to publicans and sinners.

In Keiller's, Durdie, Gardener, Hall,
And Henderson commence the hall;
Old Beattie with his nor'land brogue
Contrives to fill the other cog:
His sweetest music is the din
That calls the other chapin in.
Queer Crombie, with his cronies, took
His seat in Cappy Cameron's nook;
In Clark's, the bicker and the stoup
Thumped like Ross' hammer at a roup;
In Whittet's, wags and wabster chiels
To Crab's dear bag-pipe thread the reels;
In Low's the "Maggie Lauder" wanters,
With roaring, "roistering Robin" ranters;
To Low's own fiddle urged the dance
With steps imported fresh from France.
In Cairns's large Reformers' room
Is heard the bass and fiddle boom,
And thundering thump of hobnailed feet,
With hussies captured from the street:
The higher gents, with jewels glancing,
In Tait's long loft keep up the dancing.

Avaunt! no more in trifles deal!
Where is the hero of our tale?
Aye, when and where shall we set face on
Our hero, and our friend, Will Easson?
Well, "to our tale" has oft been said,
And to our tale we now are led;
Be where it may, we chance to eye him;
We promise that we shall stick by him.

In Spalding's far ben parlour, Will
Sat souffing sonnets at the gill;
Right happy, with a drouthy chore,
To pass the night in gleeful roar.
Hoarse elder John sat at his knee,
In proper trim-more than half-sea,-
And aye at every semibreve,
The kindly grasp of friendship gave.
Old Brewer Blair paced through the room,
And lilted "Tullybelton's Broom,"
"The Highland lads are come to town,"
"Kilt up your coat, and truss your gown,"
"Jocky has gone to the Fair,"
Or, "Pretty Peggie come down stair."
Grave Bailie Watson, shrill and loud,
"The Oakstick" whistled as he could,
And raised the laugh, for, near the end, aye,
He ran adrift on "Cock-a-bendy."
This was the Bailie's _drunken tester_,
For of that air he would be master;
Naithless, some waggish trickster loon
Aye put the Bailie off the tune!

Thus passed the night; but jolly Will,
Unwearied, sat carousing still;
For aye the other mutchkin cam' in,
And he aye got the other dram in.

Now elder John, in whispers low,
Reluctantly proposed to go-
"The lights are out at Doctor Todd's,
The country billies throng the roads,
The farmer lads are a' gane hame,
On harrows, carts, and horse to dream;
The sense of shame we should retain,
And part good friends, to meet again."
"Another gill!" cries Will, and then
The other gill came brimful ben.
"Huzza," cries Blair, "just one stoup more,
The stirrup-cup when at the door."

The landlord, who had all night lang
At cracking corks been sweating thrang,
Now that the house was getting thinner,
And he the only, _only_ winner,
Proposed to be the parting gill
By way of thanks, good soul! and Will
Must sing before he gang awa'
"Good night, and joy be wi' you a'."

We do not now to friends impart
The songs which we might here insert;
But that need not produce a squall,
For certes, you will find them all
Recorded in the Book of Songs
Which to our Gowrie Bard belongs;
Which ye, for knowledge or for pleasure,
May have recourse to, at your leisure.

When Willie, for a songster lauded,
Had sung, and was by all applauded,
The din they made at the encore
Brought in choice friends above a score.

The sire, when meeting with the son
Who long was lost but now is won;
The honest wife and husband dear
Who had not met for half-a-year;
The loving pair who had not seen
Each other since Old Hallowe'en,
Express no joy seems half so sweet
As boon companions when they meet.
Will jumpit higher than the couples,
And Bailie Watson danced the ripples;
Old elder John, with loof on loof
Came skult for skult-a welcome proof-
And bonnets, beavers, caps, and hats,
Went whisking through the room like bats;
Long oaths without ill-will were sworn,
And coats in friendly grapple torn.

When lads, who long had held the plug in,
Break pledge, and bring the toddy mug in-
Evanish all dull care and thinking!
All hail, ye jovial joys of drinking!
'Swith common sense! let senseless jargon
Come in exchange, a weary bargain!
Oh, how the glass the dormant quickens!
Oh, how the conversation thickens!
What vivid flashes in the eyes!
Trite stories lauded to the skies!
We give, for sample, such a toast-
"More drouth to him that drinks the most;"
Or, "Demons in the dark devour him
Who first shall rise to break the quorum."

And we may laugh with Brewer Blair
Who told the story of a hare
Gley'd Rodgie shot at, in the bog,
And missed-(but did not miss his dog!)-
For which he felt so very queer,
He paid the tax for ten long year,
Rather than let tax-gatherers wot
How his dear collie dog was shot!

The Bailie brags about fat beef,
Pitcaithly, of top-sail and reef;
Sage Adam talks of courts and fines,
And all the generous designs
That gentry have in agitation
To right the wrongs which plague the nation.

(Intrudes, despite of all excuse,
Sedate Reflection on the Muse:-
"What doth such balderdash portend
But sad reflection in the end?
The time and constitution wasted,
The heart with rotting rust encrusted,
The lawless passions unrestricted,
Age premature, and habits wicked,
May give a pang to life's exit
For which there cometh no respite!")

Though Willie, seated by the glass,
Oft with the thoughtless thought the less,
Indulged in trifling conversation,
And heaped digression on digression,
A faint reflection now and then
Would play bo-peep about his brain-
A prelude of ensuing shame,-
Or like the vista of a dream,
Or like the cloud-shade in the wind
That flies and leaves no trace behind.

Hour after hour like Jehu passed:
The parting hour must come at last;
What pity friends, so pat and fain,
Should ever need to part again!
A gloom each florid face o'erspread
At thought of home and thought of bed!
Will being more than three-parts drunk,
With head upon the table sunk,
The landlord, honest-hearted wight,
Proposed that he should stop all night,-
"The ditches of Denpark are deep,
The narrow path is ill to keep,
Ye may not see the sloughs and stones,
And ye may fall and break your bones;
It now is past the dead of night,
The moon will soon be shining bright;
Let her o'er Fife hills show her face
Ere ye attempt your track to trace;
Folk in the dark get sudden frights,
Hear awful sounds, see gruesome sights;
The wandering ghost down at Port Allan
Hath frightened many a daring callan';
Since Skipper Coal was found stone-dead
Robbed of his purse in your mill lade;
Bright day is ours, and busy throng-
Dark nights to lonely ghosts belong!"

"Should all the sea and river imps
With shelly coats and scaly jimps,
And all the landward fairy fry
That haunt green loans and moorlands high,
And all the wraiths of Hatton Hill,
Leagued with the ghost down at the Mill,
Beset me at the Hunters' Hall-
With dauntless front I face them all!
Or should they mob me in the haugh,
I fearless in their faces laugh!
A fellow's purse I never spulye,
A human throat I never gully;
And why should I take thought of trouble in,
For fairy, kelpie, ghost, or goblin?
The innocent hold onward steady,
The guilty boggle at a shadow.
An honest man hath nought to fear
When 'Seize the thief,' assails his ear;
But raise the cry of 'Catch the thief,'
Although as far away as Crieff,
And instantaneously the rogue
Takes to his heels through moor and bog."
Thus Will, though more than over-seasoned
With toddy, pretty fairly reasoned.
The landlord, muttering, shook his head;
Such bold resolves he held in dread.

Though drear the hour, and ice and snow
Lay on thc lonely path, and though
No line between the earth and sky
Described heaven's bloated canopy,
Here sober friends may think it right
That we should bid our Will "Good night;"
Nathless the muse is more inclined
With him to go than stay behind.

"A fine clear night!" loud shouted Will,
And dashed beyond the high door-sill.
No light descended from the sky
_The light was all in Willie's eye_.
The light of Spalding's lamp, no doubt,
The darkness had not yet drawn out:
Light all around, above, below,-
A raree-show, with nought to show,-
Light, of a muddled brain's creating,
A perfect blank irradiating,
An undistinguishable blaze
Enshrining objects from the gaze;
Yet notwithstanding all the blank,
And maugre channel, step, and stank,
At Saddler's corner Willie wheeled,
And down the Flunky Row lone reeled.

Now, there lay on the slippery way,
A sled, bedight for sliding play,
So poised that at the slightest shake
The mooring line was sure to break:-
The thing had all been ordered so,
By fools on earth, or fiends below,
To trap some addle-pated wight
That way trespassing overnight.

The path becoming still more steep,
And troublesome on end to keep,
When, onward floundering pell-mell,
Athwart the sled our hero fell!
The truck, so ready for a trip,
The mooring lines instanter slip.
Away the wheelless carriage flew,
As if the thetes the furies drew
And all the sea and river imps
With shelly coats and scaly jimps,
And all the landward fairy fry
That haunt green loans and moorlands high,
And all the wraiths of Hatton Hill,
And all the ghosts down at the mill,
And all the hags that ride the wind,
Pursued, hallooed, and hissed behind.
The fiend with our friend Will's away!
Woe, woe be to the usquebae!
Had it been in his sober moments,
There had been fewer wicked comments:
But to be snatched away delirious,-
The scoffer's scorn, grief for the serious,
Maketh the evil ten times worse,
And brands it with a double curse.

If such mishap shall me befall
While pilgrimaging on this ball,
I wave all paction for the time,
In stiff old age, or manly prime,
In cheerful May or dull October;
But let it be when I am sober!

Ye who have often played with Will
At odds and evens for a gill,
Ye who have often wassail kept
When sober neighbours soundly slept,
Ye who have joined the jovial ring
And sung with him, and heard him sing,-
With reverence approach and see
What comes of drink! what drinkers dree!

We torment not old tipplers, who
Are past redemption long ago;
Who never feel relenting qualm,
Whose latest draught will be a dram;
Bomb-proof of admonitions all,-
On such it wiJi he vain to call.
Who to sad warning may attend
Arc not too old but they may mend;-
Of such we cherish lively hope
That they the mad career shall stop.

But "to our tale," again is said;
To end our tale we now are led.
In frozen ditch far down the hill
A wreck lay shattered sled and Will.
The transit quick, and sudden fall,
In torpor wrapt his senses all;
A palpitation of the brain
Recalled sensation back again;
The pale moon-ray from Norman Law
Was hunting darkness past Fala;
The Auld Kirk clock rung four or three-
Will trowed not which, so numb was he-
A bell far mightier was pealing,
Not with ding-dong the tones retailing,
But with incessant solemn sound,
From clouds above, and from the ground,
From distance far, and at the ear,
Within, without, and everywhere!
It was not like the bells of Perth;
It was not like a bell on earth!
It was _all heaven's vast conclave ringing,_
_And earth, the ponderous tongue-knob, swinging!_
Nature was dancing in confusion,
Worse than the hub-bub of intrusion,
When Dow was forced upon the people,
Which rent the kirk and racked the steeple!
Hills after hills were running races,
Like lambs in frolic changing places!
The Clatchard Crags fled to the west,
Flisk and Balmirno followed fast!
Lindores and Bambrich's ruins grey
Sailed, like sea monsters, up the Tay!
Old Broughty Tower swung to the south,
The Sidlaws to the ocean's mouth!
The farms, that stood upon the plains,
Fled like fleet fillies wanting reins!

So have we seen, when on the quay,
We stood the rolling waves to see,
The rolling waves at length stand still,
And fly (in fancy) quay and hill.
Intent, the magic scene we view,
And soon the sickening prospect rue;
We turn our gaze on hill and plain,-
They rest,-and rolls the wave again!
These passing strange phenomena
Were far surpassed by what Will saw;
Or potions strong possess the quality
Which to mere fancy gives reality.

Round rolled in rapid run the earth,
Down dipped Dundee and up went Perth:
As heels the sloop at helm-a-lee,
So down dipped Perth, up went Dundee!
The Mugdrum Inch was reared on end,
And streams acclivities ascend!
The Plantain parks turn on their edges,
Like shifting scenery on our stages!
And tower, and tree, and stack, and stake,
A horizontal posture take!
The earth's broad side-but more particular
Where Willie lay-was perpendicular!
The Norman vanished in the deep,
And Willy hung on frightful steep,
Besmit with terror lest he slip
Of weeds and windlestrae the grip!

Oh for one half-hour of the brain
Of Burns, or Scott, to guide my pen!
Oh for the pencil of a Brooks
To paint the anguish of Will's looks!
The Muse the task untoward shuns
To simile for shelter runs.

So have I seen my collie look
When him I in a mischief took,
And in a warping mill had pent him,
And round and round a-whirling sent him,
With lowering ears and neck awry,
And downcast tail, and frightened eye,
All confidence and courage failing,
Because, a thief, he'd been caught stealing,
About to suffer strangulation
For such a shameful depredation.

New wonders on new wonders rise:
Behold! the moon and starry skies,
Turned topsy-turvy from their height,
Send, from the deep, their silver light!
The moon arising in the west,
Where she at noon had sunk to rest;
And the North Pole, and Peter's Plough,
Dim twinkling lie below Carpow!
The north and south, and west and east,
All placed awry, or nowhere placed!

To earth still faster Willy clung
As on the horrid void he hung;
And all around a haggard stare
He sends through the inverted sphere.
Short time his strength may bear him up,
Adown he falls with sudden swoop;
So fast he falls, so fast earth follows,
While to his cries the welkin bellows,
That now he hopes that he may soon
Obtain a landing on the moon;
But aye the moon is onward rumbling,
And earth and Will are downward tumbling.

Here leave we Will, to cross the line
As fate or fancy may incline,
Or round the galaxy to tack,
With mother earth upon his back!
We would pronounce it downright murder
To follow him one hair-breadth farther.

A Tale of the Sidlaw Fairies.



WHERE now do all our fairy knights
=Convene at eve to ramble?
And where do all our fairy queens
=Hold merry moonlight gambol?

Have we not heard how gloomy glens,
=And deserts unfrequented,
When sable, silent midnight reigns,
=Are by their legions haunted?

No mellow pipe at morning dawn
=On dewy hill delights us;
When drowsy eve steals on the lawn
=No elfin bands affright us.

No shrieks are heard from yonder cave,
=No sounds of armour clashing
Disturb the roar of yonder stream
=That down the hill is dashing.

Who now will tell me where they rove?
=Have cruel laws enthralled them?
No more in meadow, glade, or grove
=Shall we again behold them.

I sought them on the mountain high
=When mortals lay adreaming;
I only heard the heron's cry,
=And saw the meteors streaming.

When I sat on my grandam's knee
=In all the bloom of childhood,
She told me where they dozed at noon
=Within the lonely wild wood.

And where they tripped it merrily
=By green hill, glen, and fountain,
To his enchanting harmony,-
=The minstrel of the mountain.

Much have I heard, and much forgot,
=Since time with men enroll'd me,
Yet have I not forgot the tales
=Which oft my grandam told me.


Wake, fairy lyre! long hast thou hung
Neglected on the wall, unstrung;
Wake now thy tones, soft, quick, and slow,
And bid thy strains harmonious flow.
Long has oblivion's sable veil
Hung o'er the legends of my tale;
Yet would remembrance, as a dream,
Call up the long-neglected theme.


Flowers were bathed in balmy dew,
Twilight shed her livid hue,
Streaks of light and streaks of shade
Shot athwart the breezy glade;
And the blackbird's vesper lay
In soft echoes died away,
When the caves of Hazel Glen
Listen'd to young Allan's strain.


The fair virgin, Spring, all her beauty discloses,
=And soft, fanning breezes steal whisp'ring along,
Enriched with perfume from the rain-refreshed roses,
=And with love-breathing note of the red linnet's song.

It is evening's mild ray, and the sky is uncloudy,
=Bright Phoebus to Vesper bequeaths the still plain;
The peasant plods home from the brown-furrowed meadow,-
=I stray with my dearest in Hazelwood Glen.

We shall see the wild goats on yon rock high and giddy,
=From cliff to cliff skipping, the summit attain,
While slowly we stray in the bowers dark and woody
=Along the lone dingles in Hazelwood Glen.

Near the steep there's a pool by a shaw of green willows,
=Where tall bending saplings wave over the fen;
It is clear, deep, and cool, it is covered with lilies
=The fairest, the choicest in Hazelwood Glen.

These dark rocky caverns shall not make thee dreary,
=They shelter the shepherd from tempest and rain;
There softly I'll sing of the charms of my Mary,
=And wake the sweet echo of Hazelwood Glen.

The sun may go down o'er the high hill of Evelick,
=The moon climb the Sidlaw and light up the plain,
The dew may fall thick round the nest of the laverock,
=And still we will linger in Hazelwood Glen.


Enjoy, fond pair! the hour of love,
=The copse admits no stranger,
No prying footsteps hither rove,
=And no eye bodes you danger.

But who sits in yon lofty pile,
=Dire woe to them devising?
Who soon will chase away the smile
=That on their view is rising.


Night's spangled canopy was spread,
=The moon was in the western wave,
Bright blaz'd the north with streamers red,
=Pale ghosts stalk'd o'er the Long Man's Grave.

Lindsay was stalking in his hall,
=He looked out from the window high,
The lightning flashed along the wall,
=And glistened in his frowning eye.

Not fiercer was the lightning's flash
=Than the fierce tempest in his breast
When he thought of Allan's love
=And this fiendish wish expressed:


"Spirits of the gloomy night!
Who at times meet mortal sight
Riding on the lunar bow;
Demon fierce or fairy fell!
By the power of word or spell
Help thou me to work them woe."


The distant tinkling of a bell
And sough of wings came on the gale
=Toward the listening seer;
A heavy whirlwind's fitful brawl,
All round and round the castle wall,
=Approached more near and near;
The huge hinged high door open flew,
The tapers in the hall gleamed blue.


Along the pavement tript an elf;
=A star shone on his breast,
Gay flowerets fringed his flowing robes,
=Gold glittered on his vest.

A willow wand was in his hand,
=Bracelets above each wrist,
He doff'd his casque and bowed, and thus
=The conjurer addressed:


"I've a cave in the north for my merry minions all,
=When the white moonbeams on the brake shine bright,
They go at my bidding, and they come at my call,
=Or they dance with the Dryads the live-long night."


An ebony whistle he put to his mouth
=And blew his gathering whoop so shrill,
It was heard in the north, it was heard in the south,
=It waked all the echoes that slept on the hill.


Thought Lindsay the roof of his Castle was riven,
=Or thought he his head had burst in twain?
Well trow I, no time to think either was given
=When round him an hundred were dancing amain.

Their pretty green kirtles, all tasselled with white,
=Went nodding and dangling so gracefully;
Their jetty arch eyeballs all beaming delight,
=While they tripped it so lightly and leapt it so high.

With the nod of his head and the wave of his wand
=They quit the gambol one and all,
And two-and-two, link'd hand-in-hand,
=They bowed full low and left the hall.



"From the thistle's, crimson top,
From the tulip's dewy cup,
From the blossom on the pea,
I am come to wait on thee.

I can tread the mountain's base,
To earth's centre dive with ease,
Up the many-coloured arch
I with nimble feet can march.

Over rock and sea and sand
I have brought my magic wand,
Soon, when I thy pleasure know,
It shall wave for weal or woe."



"When in Gaston Wood at night,
Wandering by the pale moonlight,
=Allan with a nymph you see,
Wave thy wand to break love's charm,
But the youth you must not harm-
=This is all I ask of thee."



=="Often I the nymph have seen
==Underneath the hazel screen,
Kings might wish to win her hand;
==She shall wear our fairy green,
==She shall be a fairy queen,
When she comes to fairy land.

=Now ponder well before I go,
==Lest more of me you should demand;
=Glenwild I am, and you may know,
==I'm chieftain of yon elfin band;
=They patter like a hailstone storm
==Above me till I bid adieu,"
=He said, and stretched his minion form,
==And sheer up through the ceiling flew.


One leap from Gaslon's lofty tower
Brought him to Craigkin's mossy bower,
The second leap cleared Shandrie Wood
And on Baal Hill's high peak he stood.

A moment he the stars surveyed,
And tracing night's retiring shade,
And scenting fresh the morning dew,
In haste his bugle shrilly blew.


"Hark! 'tis the Chieftain's call,
=Fairy elves, heed ye me,
Leave your lavoltas all,
=Speed hither speedily.

Come from the Hellpool Hole,
=Deaf Craig, Baltrodie Den,
Come from the Brownie Knoll,
=Rait, and Rait's rocky glen.

Come from Dunsinnan Hill,
=Balbeggie, Boggle Loch,
Come from the Kirkland Mill,
=Craigersh, and Cloganough.

Come like an arrow flight
=From the bow starting;
Come like a ray of light
=From the east darting."


They came from hell Pool's wood-clad steep,
And from Baltrodie's dingle deep,
From Deaf Craig and Dunsinnan Hill,
Balbeggie swamp and Kirkland Mill,
From Brownie Knoll, the Boggle Loch,
Craigersh, Rait Glen, and Cloganough.
=They leapt the brakes,
=They skimmed the lakes,
=They ran, they flew,
=And mock'd the view.
Of taunting jeer they bore the brunt,
Who speiled the last-Baal Hill's bold front.


It was a sight to see them stand
=Before their Chieftain in a row,
And raise at once each little hand
=To doff their hats and bow full low.



Ye elfin bands, who at my call
Oft thin great Oberon's green hall,
'Tis business of high sort when I
Disturb your moonlight revelry:
Well know ye all I've laboured long
To win a queen from mortals sprung.
Each evening I my circle drew,
Each morning disappointment knew;
No maid within my circle slept,
In vain have I my vigils kept;
Now by my wish, and by your aid,
We soon shall win a beauteous maid.
=At Hell Pool I'll tell ye all,
=Meet me there by twilight fall.
Bring with you the germ of the scented brier,
The bulb of the snowdrop, the cress of the mire,
The mistletoe root, and the spray of the sea,
The beetle, the bat, and the mosquitie.

==I can no more impart,
==Nor can I longer stay,
==A star beams in the east
==That calls me far away.
==Each owlet-eyed wight,
==Winking to the light,
==Longing for his cell,
==Forbids me to tell
=The adventures of the night.
=But yonder peeps the eye of day,
=At Hell Pool I'll tell you all,
=Meet me there ere twilight fall.

=He said, and bowed, and every fay
=Wheeled about and skipt away.



Why wanders fair Mary alone in her bower,
When spirits are abroad and elves have power,
When the shriek owl's hoot or the heathcock's blare
Arouses the roe that had gonc to his lair!
Does she listen the crack of the struggling oak?
Does she look to the shadows that glide on the rock?
She peers for her Allan the greenwood through,
Who trysted to meet her here and now.



Be still, thou roaring blast,
=And cease, ye pines, to wave
And if I hear not Allan's voice
=Again with thee I'll rave.
Fair moon, light up thy beams
=And silver holm and lee,
And if I meet not Allan's smile
=Hide thou thy face from me.

Where art thou, Allan? where?
='Tis I who on thee call;
Hast thou forgot the hour of love
=To gambol in the hall?
In vain I sigh and cry,
=I wander here alone;
None but the listening echoes hear
=And answer to my moan.

Blow on, thou roaring blast!
=And rage, thou dashing wave!
I do not hear my Allan's voice,
=Again with thee I'll rave.
Go to thy clouds, pale moon!
=In vain for me you shine;
I do not meet my Allan's smile,
=Hide thou thy face and mine.


The tear bedewed her cheek,
=Quick heaved her breast of snow;
She ceased, the echoes died away
=In murmurs soft and slow.


Who caused such bitter tears to flow?
=Accursed be the cruel wight!
No tender pleasures may he know;
=This curse on Allan shall not light.

Him an elfin band unseen
=By their witchery led astray;
He trowed he sat in hazel screen,
=In sooth he sat on Cairn Grey.

And while she wailed in hazel grove
=In strains of disappointed love,
Thus longed he for the absent maid
=In love's imaginary shade:

"Quick descend, thou orb of day!
=Shed on other isles thy splendour,
Love awaits thy setting ray,
=And would part with all thy grandeur.

"Sweetly tolls the curfew bell,
=Dusky eve's approach proclaiming,
Luna glinting in the rill,
=And the evening star mild beaming.

"Fragrant breathes the whispering gale,
=On the heath the lark reposes,
And the dove has ceased to wail,-
=In the pine tree shade she dozes.

"Where the stream steals by thc brake,
=Wandering through the osier bushes;
There the ducklings of the lake
=Play among the green bulrushes,

"Is not this the hour of love?
=To this bower she did invite me,
And I promised here to rove,
=And she promised here to meet me.

"I have strayed along the glade,
=I have listened at the fountain,
But I have not heard the tread
=Of her feet upon the mountain.

"Dost thou linger, lovely maid?
=Wilt thou fail to meet thy lover?
All the stormy winds are laid
=And the wintry blasts are over.

"See the flowers are in the field,
=And the lilies are in blossom,
And methought the lily smiled
=Which I culled to deck thy bosom.

"Must I tarry for thee long,
=To and fro impatient turning,
Till I wake with plaintive song
=All the warblers of the morning?

"Shines a meteor in the grove?
=Glides a spirit to deceive me?
Nay! it is the maid I love
=Coming bounding to relieve me!

"Welcome is a beam of light
=To the sad, bewildered stranger,
Shooting through the gloom of night
=To recall his steps from danger.

"Yet more welcome is thy trip
=To this arbour all in blossom,
Where a kiss awaits thy lip,
=And this lily seeks thy bosom.

"Why fold these arms in empty air?
Ah! whither fled my Mary? where?

=It was her wraith!
=The shroud of death
=Hung on her face,
=With noiseless pace
=She trod the heath."

Now blazed the glebe with pallid light,
=A cloud of mist rose from the rill,
And now a wildly wailing cry
=Ascended steep Pitartie's hill.

The rattling rain rolled down the rock,
=And Bracky Burn swelled high its tide;
The tempest ceased, the tawny foam
=Lay lagging on the mountain side.

A deep resounding solemn tone
=The caverns long retained,
It ended with a deathlike groan,
=And awful silence reigned.

What might these frightful scenes foretell?
=Ere eye or ear could learn
A laugh of scorn dissolved the spell,
=And showed a shapeless cairn!

What loss must Allan now deplore!
=These omens bode no good;
"My dreams of happy love are o'er,"
=He said, and left the wood.

There is an hour of goblin power
=When falls the twilight grey,
When fairies leave their mid-day bower,
=And wood and wold waylay.

That hour Glenwild, the fairy chief,
=His magic might essayed,
Success attending barred relief
=And all his cares repaid.


His feet scarce shook the dew
When he speiled Pitartie's brow,
So nimble was his tread;
=He overtook the blast
=As the Shandrie hills he passed
When away with fair Mary he fled.
=He leaped the turrets tall
=Of Evelick's ancient hall
And Godden's stream, limpid and cool,
=Athwart Craiglochie fen,
=Adown Balthayock Den,
Away, and away to Hell Pool.


There thrice he coursed the rocky scene
=With rapid circling sweep,
Then bounded from the highest peak
=Down to the bottom deep.

This is the Lethe of Glenwild;
=Whoe'er herein are cast
Are doomed to an oblivious curse,
=Forgetting all the past.

This curse she shunned!  While sinking down,
=In mad despairing wrench
She tore from off the bushy cliff
=A little rowan branch.

And, swooning in the giddy fright,
=She knew not any more,
Till in her swimming ears she heard
=The torrent's gurgling roar.

A hollow creek in Hell Pool crag
=Booms to the evening breeze,
'Tis shaded by the lady fern
=And thick low tangled trees.

On good Old Yule, at night's drear noon,
=We hear the symphony;
But, should we search a summer's day,
=That creek we would not see.

A gap within that hollow creek
=Received them from our light,
And cold and dripping was the vault
=That led from mortal sight.

And long and winding was the way,
=And silent was her guide;
At length began a feeble ray
=Along the vault to glide.

Between them and the distant light
=Were shadows passing by,
Like Luna in a windy night
=When light clouds float the sky.

Harmonious sounds stole on the ear
=With sweet according trill,
The counter strong, the tenor clear,
=Deep bass and treble shrill.

Such magic sounds subdued all care;
=Lightly they tripped along
With measured step and cheerful air
=To join the fairy throng.

An hundred by their harps recline
=To swell the harmony,
An hundred tuneful voices join
=And greet them courteously.



Welcome our chieftain bold,
Whether from wood or wold;
Far be his name extolled-
=Peerless is he.
Fairest of fairy queens,
Naiads with matchless miens,
Mortal maids in their teens
=Languish for thee.

Redder than rising day,
Whiter than sons of clay,
First in the daring fray
=Waving his plume;
Leaping o'er hill and wood,
Skipping on surging flood,
Basking on snowy cloud,
=Ever in bloom.

Virtues not seen at first
On thy admirers burst;
Fairy tribes fear the worst
=Absent from thee.
Pretty maid by thy side
Sun-high may soar her pride,
Tended by such a guide
=Happy is she.

Who, when the willow wand
Waves in thy matchless hand,
Can thy power countermand
=Powerful must be.
Who on the lonely lawn,
Whether by dusk or dawn,
Could such a maid trepan?
=He, only he.

Who, when we sweep the blast
O'er mountain, moor, and mast,
And the mermaids aghast
=Sink in the sea,
Peaceful repose shall find,
Safely secured behind,
When the hail and the wind
=Darken the lea.

Who in our fairy hall
Shall be queen of the ball,
Clad in the crimson pall
=Down to the knee?
Who, in the moonlight prance,
With him may lead the dance,
Who meet his sweetest glance?
=She, only she.


The red-vergcd horizon more bright and more bright grew,
To far distant regions the deep gloom of night flew,
Along the green lea lay the shade of the alley,
Away shrunk the mist to the marsh in the valley.

Clear on the rose bank the cool dew was glancing,
Blithe on the Frontons the leverets were dancing,
The peasants were going to plough the brown fallow,
The oxen were lowing hoarse, heavy, and hollow.

By beech, ward, and shieling were cheerful strains swelling,
But lonely and silent was fair Mary's dwelling;
Last eve we beheld her, the copse way she passed on
That leads to the alder and dark wood of Gaston.

Afar up the dingle, where blooms the red heather
Oft wandered she lonely wild roses to gather,
There haply benighted her step has betrayed her,
And down in the gully all mangled has laid her.

They searched every arbour, explored every brake,
They looked every pool, and they wade every lake,
Not a bird in the bush but was scared from its nest,
Not a trout in its cool muddy covert could rest.

They wandered all over the brown withered heath,
From Dalrich Moor Loch to the hill of Macbeath;
The morning sun saw them the woodlands explore,
And he sank in the west ere the search they gave o'er.

The wild wail of sorrow disturbed the still air,
When slow to the hamlet they turned in despair.


Now when the rose and the pansy blue
Lay bathing in the evening dew,
When the curfew rang tired hinds to bed,
And only the owlet was heard in the glade,
Allan could hear what none else could hear,
It seemed he saw what none else could see.
Away stole Allan, he wist not where,
With a heavy heart full of anxious care,
Till, wandering on where fancy led,
He came to the lonely hazel shade.


He listened, and he heard a pace
=Light through the bushes hie,
He looked, and lo! a human face
=Affixed his wandering eye.



Is it the hermit of the cleugh,
=Who nightly tracks the dew,
Before whose eyes at setting sun
=The future glides in view?

Or is it lovely Mary's ghost,
=Or gnome, or fa ry queen?


I'm one of Glenwild's fairy host,
=And wear his fairy green.


Turn, lady, to yon sister light,
=And let it on thee shine;
Methinks I should have heard that voice
=And seen that form divine.

Ah! why affright mc with that tale,
=My tide of grief to swell?
Thou art the maid of Hazel shaw,
=Sure Allan knows thee well.



Thy much loved Mary once I was,
=But call me not that now,
I dwell within a dreary home
=Beyond the mountain's brow,

Where bats and owls the twilight seek,
=And when abroad they roam,
Death watches tickle in each creek
=Till morn, when they fly home.

The glow-worm is our light by night,
=And rotten ash by day,
Pale gleams, the rugged roof along,
=The slug-worm's winding way.

Serpents twist round the jutting stones,
=Bespeckled adders crawl
In hideous coil along the floor
=And up the drizzly wall.



Have you for such a cavern drear
Forsaken all you once held dear?
And can these vermin, cursed and vile,
Delight thee more than Allan's smile?



There is an hour of goblin power,
=Between the night and day,
When fairies leave their mid-day cave,
=And maid and man waylay.

In the fatal hour of fairy's power
=While you sat on the old Cairn Grey,
Glenwild, as I strayed by hazel bower,
=Fast carried me far away.

By the old grey cairn, with strange alarm,
=You heard my wailing cries;
But the lowering storm and the swollen rill
=Were but glamour in your eyes.

His nimble feet scarce shook the dew,
=So swift and light his tread,
He more quickly passed than the sigh of the wind,
=As to Hell Pool Crag he fled.

He leapt the turrets of Evelick's wall,
=And Godden's stream, limpid and cool,
O'er Craiglochie fen, and Balthayock den,
=He bore me away to Hell Pool.

A little chink in Hell Pool Crag
=Received us from the light,
And dreary indeed is that dripping vault
=That leads from mortal sight.

Now, woe! I must, while ages roll,
=This gown of green retain,
Through lonely wilds at midnight stroll
=And still an elf remain.

Vet rather would I with mortals sleep
=Within the ciammy cell,
Than dance on the moor by moonlight peep,
=Or haunt the lonely well.


No fairy elf shall part us more!
=Come, Mary, to my arms;
I perish, or my love restore
=Despite all fairy charms.



With elfin arrows whet to wound,
And fairy ring encircled round,
=Here stand I full in view,
Nor may I from this circle pass
And tread with thee the verdant grass,
===Free as air,
===Here and there,
===And everywhere,
==As I might wish to do.


It is not with thy might of hand
=You can me now detain;
It is not with thy flaming brand
=You'll win me back again.

An elf upon thy spear could dance,
=His feet it would not hurt;
Could shiver shield, and bow, and lance,
=And with thy valour sport.


Then how may I win back my love
=From cruel elfin power?
I know not where at eve you rove,-
=Where is your mid-day bower?



By morass and mountain grey
Fairies urge their pathless way;
By deep glen and rugged rock,
Where the sable ravens croak.

Round thee on the daisied green
We may trip and not be seen;
It would not avail thee aught
Though thy Mary there you sought.


But I learnt a spell from a friendly elf
Deep down in our dungeon delf,
And if that spell you staunchly prove
It will win me back _if you have love;_
But if you jealousy entertain
No spell can win me back again.
Through jealousy this friendly elf
Must aye remain in the fairy delf,
Save when attended by her knight
She trips on the moor in the mild moonlight.
It was by her nod, and by her wink,
That I tasted not the fatal drink;
And by her wile in stolen hour
I meet you in this secret bower;
And by her wile I'll not be missed
If I keep faithful to my tryst.


Search among the narrow dells
For the water of nine wells
=That spring in nine lairds' lands;
With the eye-bright scoop it up
And put it in the Sacred Cup
=Which in the chancel stands.

Round you on the harebell shower it,
On the broad grey lichen pour it,
A nine-feet circle then describe
With a bourtree from the glebe.

Take thy station in the centre;
There no fairy feet can enter,
But I at your side shall be,
Waiting till you rescue me.


Hold me till you cross me thrice
=Whate'er you hear or see,
And I shall then become your prize,
=Or won I'll never be.



When shall I this spell essay?
Shall it be by night or day?
Shall it be in wood or wold
I may you again behold?



Fairies must that secret tell,
If I did, it were no spell.
When the sun shall rise and set,
And the flower with dew is wet,
To Ruhm's ancient thorn repair,
And it shall be told you there,
Where, for what intent, and when
Fairy bands shall meet again.


There shall the wild harp warble strains
=Above thee on the hill,
Surpassing all thine ears have heard,
=Transcending mortal's skill.

And when upon these vernal hills
=The moon's pale beams shall glance,
Deftly around Ruhm's aged thorn
=You'll see our legions dance.

I can no more to thee impart,
=Nor can I longer stay,
A purple star beams in the east
=That calls me far away.

She turned, and lightly leapt the brake,
=And vanished from his sight;
He heard as if a bow had twanged
=A shaft far o'er the height.



The sun was swathed in livid clouds,
=The dusky eve came down,
And wood and glen and hill and plain
=Were wrapped in sober brown.

Amongst the spiry grass the lark
=Lodged on the Fronton's brow,
The gaudy yarrow of Glenbraan
=Imbibed the balmy dew.

The warder to the watch-tower went
=To ring the evening peal,
The echo reached the Cloganough
=And down the sloping dale.

The lowing cattle to the stall,
=The stockdove to the pine,
Old Lindsay to his lighted hall
=To wassail at the wine,

While round him hung in frowning tier,
=Dark whinger, lance, and bow,
And shields which oft had dashed aside
=The dire descending blow.


To old Ruhm's thorn young Allan went,
=At night when all was still;
The cloudy welkin cleared, the moon
=Beamed mild on Balmyre hill.

Down from the Lurg head's lawny height
=A troop of fairies came,
Their bracelets blazed in the beam of night,
=And the Qua-Lake seemed on flame.

On Ruhm Bush Bog green grow the reeds,
=And green the willow wand,
But greener were the silken weeds
=Of Glenwild's fairy band.

As glides the swallow o'er the pool,
=And o'er the waving corn,
As swiftly glide they down the hill,
=And round the trysting thorn.


Here like a phalanx, there in rows,
=Extended far, again they close;
In clusters now, now all a maze,
=They wheel to the harp's harmonious lays.



"Leap light, leap wight, each fairy knight!
=Light trip each tidy queen!
Thy maypole is the aged thorn
=That blooms on the flowery green.

Thy fan shall be the western wind,
=And Luna is thy lamp,
And 'Willie with a wisp' shall flare
=Above the mossy swamp.

The welkin is thy canopy,
=Studded with starry light;
Thy curtains are the silvery clouds
=That linger on yon height.

Thy settee is the velvet sod,
=Thy carpet the spangled green;
Leap light, leap wight, each fairy knight!
=Light trip each fairy queen!

The beetle flags by Rait hill sand,
=And seeks her grassy bower;
The bee awakes to sip the dew
=That glistens on each flower.

On the bare boughs of the aged thorn
=The moonbeams faintly fall;
The twittering swallow trims her wing
=By Gaston's corbl'd wall.

Haste, merry moonlight revellers, haste,
=A mortal ear to shun:
Away, away to fairy land,
=The morrice dance is done."


"When the steer is in the yoke,
=And the younker whistles shrill,
And the shepherd with his flock
=Sits upon the sunny hill,
How shall we employ the hours,
In our cheerless fairy bowers,
Till again upon the lea
We convene for revelry?"


"With needles of the silver fir
=Work your queen a kirtle,
Warp it with the scented myrrh,
=Weft it with the myrtle.

Dice it with the heather bloom,
=Trim with down of willows;
Flower it with the yellow broom,
=Fringe with water lilies.

Hem it with the tiffany,
=With the cobweb quilt it,
Line it with the dimity,
=With the daisy lilt it.


"Make it tight,
=Make it soon,
Have it dight
=Long ere noon.
Sandal shod
=For the road,
A la mode
=Be each lady.

Tucker tidy,
Tiptoe ready,
Ere Pitourie's
=Rocky head
Over Gowrie
=Stretch its shade.

And we'll meet
When the sweet
Balmy breeze
O'er the leas
Shall diffuse
Cooling dews.

And the north,
=Blazing red
=O'er Hillhead,
Shall shoot forth
Lustre bright
On the night

At the stones
=Old and grey
Where the bones
Of the bard
=Whose sweet lay
We have heard
=Rest in clay.

Our new queen
=After dusk
On the green
=We must busk.

Shun delay,
Haste away.

Lint's to sow,
Weed, and grow,
Pull and water,
Drip and scatter,
Bleach and win,
Dress and spin.


"By unchristened fairy fingers,
Woe to every one that lingers;
Chained to Lapland's icy shoals,
=Twenty winters be they tossed;
And, where AEtna's lava rolls,
=Twenty summers may they roast."


While fast and far from every tree
=These varied notes were borne,
They tript it merrily o'er the lea,
=And merrily round the thorn,

Now hushed was every shrill-tongued bell,
=That tinkled at each knee;
Hushed was the minstrel's roundelay
=And harps's wild harmony.

Now thrice a whistle shrilly whooped
=On Baal Hill's grass-clad height;
Away the light-heeled trippers trooped,
=Like visions of the night.

Have we not seen the morning mist
=The spider's art display,
And marked each fly-entangling line
=That led from spray to spray?

So have we seen, when breezes waked
=The hazy glens to clear,
The silken fabric shed the dew,
=And quickly disappear.



The sun is swathed in purple clouds,
=The dusky eve comes down,
And wood and glen, and hill and plain,
=Are wrapped in sombre brown.

The timid hare has left the copse
=To limp the dewy lawn,
And by the lonely lake the stag
=Holds frolic with the fawn.

The crows convene upon the wold;
=Anon, a sable train,
They seek the boughs of calm repose
=Up in the tall wood glen.

Red breast had piped his evening song,
=Shrill from the wall-tree spray,
And to the yew's dark bosom gone
=To dose the night away.

When, hark! a loud alarming peal
=From Gaston Hill rebounds;
Young Allan knows the 'larum well
=The warder's bugle sounds.



Ho!  Warder, why that warlike shout?
Have foemen scaled the high redoubt,
Or have they gate or postern past?
Say, Warder, why that hostile blast?



The blast of war I did not blow
Through terror of assailing foe
=At postern or redoubt;
The keys have at this buckler hung
Since eve's soft lullaby was sung,
=And daylight was shut out.

But wherefore is yon streaming light?
Aurora never tinged so bright
=The flag on watchtower head.
It mocks the sun's effulgent rays
In all the glow of mid-day blaze-
=The moon ne'er rose so red.



Undo, undo the false alarm!
To burst these bars with powerful arm
=Here comes no mortal foe!
This night I have strange work in hand,
A work true love forbids to stand,
=Which mortals may not know.


He put no helmet on his head,
=He belted on no brand,
But hastened down the dark oak stair,
=With chalice in his hand.

Bright gleams the beacon on the height
=When hostile clans are nigh;
But brighter, broader was the blaze
=That met his wondering eye.

Half the horizon seemed on fire,
=Quick darted beam on beam,
Knoll, cliff, and hill was tinged with gold.
=Bright glistened lake and stream.


=It gleamed down Sidlaw's rocky glens,
=It blanched the woods in Fife's deep dens,
=It lightened lofty Fingask's hail,
=It reddened Megginch Castle wall,
=It flar'd on Rait's deserted aisle,
=It glar'd on Errol's sacred pile.

=The hinds of Rossie and Inchture
=Saw armies fly o'er Forgan moor,
=And from behind a cloud's dark shade
=Evolve a fiery cavalcade.
=The Lions of old Huntly Tower
=Thought it was nature's dying hour.
=The men of Millfield and Balgay
=Looked on it as their final day,
When the Voice shall be heard by the dead and the deaf,
And the mountains shall shake like an aspen leaf.


Now Allan reached the tall grey stones
=Where Druids held their rites of old,
Where long-drawn sighs and heavy groans
=Are heard, as tales have told.

On each grey stone a spectre stood,
=Appalling sight to see,
As many bands of fairy knights
=Came bounding o'er the lea.

An hundred plumes waved in the wind,
=An hundred sabres glanced,
And shrill and loud their Minstrel sang
=As onward they advanced.



"Hither! chieftains of the green!
=Scent ye not a fatal spell?
Now ye lose your fairest Queen
=If ye lag in den or dell.

Down from every rocky shelf,-
=Up from every cavern deep,-
Curse upon the cowardly elf
=Who would at this moment sleep!

All your glamour might display,
=Brother chieftains of the green!
Tend ye well a brother's lay,
=Or you lose your fairest Queen.

Glenwild's gone to fairyland,
=To the hall of Oberon;
How may we his frown withstand
=When his lovely Queen is gone?"


"No more by the verge of the wood in the morning
=Would we hear the soft hum of the bees in the oak,
Or dirge of the shade-loving cushat bewailing
=The deed of the eagle that haunts the grey rock.

No more would we ramble o'er mountain and moorland.
=Or ride on the mist that creeps over the hill;
Nor string the dew beads from the flowcrs of the meadow.
=Nor dance to the moonbeams that checker the rill."


Around the love-emboldened youth
=A bristly phalanx closed,
Each grinned on him a horid grin
=And spear to spear opposed.

The chalice round his head he wheel'd,
=Around, the clear stream flew;
It glistened on the harebell's breast,
=It mingled with the dew.

The circle on the dewy fell
=All round he nimbly traced;
Each fairy gave a gruesome yell,
=And quick their bow-strings braced.

He looked to see the maiden fair
=Adown Pitartie glide,
Again he looked, she caught the glance
=Mute standing at his side.

With eager grasp he seized her hand-
='Twas cold as winter's tide
When ice-encrusted osiers hang
=Down from the bank's bleak side.


O'er her he waved the sacred sign
=But twice,-he could no more;
A dart came from a hand unseen
=That well-nigh stretched him on the green
And all his doublet tore.

"Shame, shame," an eldrich fairy cried,
="Foul play here must not be;
_If you may, undo love's charm,_
_But the youth you must not harm-_
=_That is all I ask of thee._"


With visage kindling into ire,
Fierce as the red-pronged thunder fire,
Intent he gazed to scan the foe
That dealt out such a deadly blow.

But blazing flame nor threatening point
=Could make him quit his hold,
No scene of terror might them part
=That fairy could unfold.


Yet haste thee, Allan! brave it well
=Or fairies will ye sever!
Again he waved the sacred sign-
The blaze is quenched, the prize is thine,
=The feys are fled forever.


No more will they come on the morning cloud sailing
=To hear the soft hum of the bee in the oak,
Or song of the mate-bereaved cushat bewailing
=The deed of the eagle that swoops down the rock.

No more will they gambol on mountain and moorland,
=Or mix with the mist that creeps over the hill,
Or string dewy beads from the flowers on the meadow,
=Or dance in the moonbeam that checkers the rill.

The Genius of Linn=ma=Gray,

WHILE some to gain a plack are scheming,
And some the cog of wealth are reaming;
While some are getting into kirks,
Some getting rich by rearing stirks;
While some are getting on (by credit),
Some to a throne, or near beside it,
Contriving to get on the table
A bill to make "The Red Whore" able
To toss her horns and rule our nation
By Pusey's Papist botheration;
How turns the wheel of stock and trade?
Or whether Russ or Turk be fled?
Or how the Greeks may freedom brook?
Or Frenchmen freely print a book?
Or if another scheme is carving
To keep the Irish aye a-starving?-
Or will they set them by the lugs?
Or will they let them drain their bogs?

=While schemes and themes like these engage
The wiser heads of this wise age,
The poet, lonely and obscure,
Benighted stumbles through the moor;
Or in the dreary desert tunes
His wild harp to the winds, and _croons;_
Or near a cavern of the rock
Holds lingo with unearthly folk,
On topics never touched by those
Who only deal in sober prose.
It is the gift of Nature's child
Alone to haunt the lonely wild,
And see and hear what others hear not,
And speak and spier what others spier not.
For proof of this the following tale
Shall stand a witness, sooth and leal.

=Ae afternoon, no lang sin syne,
The road was dry, the weather fine,
I gaed to see a friend, Will Ross,
Wha woned beyond Bandirran Moss,
Where Sandie Nichol, like a fool,
Sang rhyme lang syne, and kept a school,
But only taught the richest bairns,
What now the very poorest learns.
From A B C to Algebra
Will Ross now teaches grit and sma'.
His baps, his bottle, and his books;
His maps, his globes, his gaucy looks,
His social clatter (aye a treat),
Detained me till 'twas rather late;
And after parting, shaking hands,
And tying tighter friendship's bands,
When coming hame by Frankly Den
(A gait I thought I'd brawly ken),
Although the moon was shining clear
My course aright I couldna steer.

I had been tasting at the toddy
And saw na weel the wee sheep roadie;
But what held me the maist in doubt
Was knowes and crags a' faced about!
I lookit owre Montague Mill
And thought I saw Dunsinnan Hill!
I lookit eastward by Craig Green
And thought I saw the Hill of Shian!
I lookit down by Duncan's loch
And thought it was the Cloganough!
What though the moon was shining bright,
In sic a plight wha could steer right?
Thinks I, an' maun I gang deleerit
In this lone moor an' nane to spier at?
The tauntin' tykes in yonder clachan
Will split their vera chafts wi' laughin',
An' say the gowk is surely daft
Wha tines the gate he's gane sae aft;
'Twill be believed without disputin',
Like theorems by Sir Isaac Newton.

In this untoward feery-ferry
I snooved alang, some sad, some merry,
Whiles gaun through dubs, whiles gaun about,
Whiles stanin' still an' lookin' out
For Quilkie, Swirlhead, or Hare Loch,
The Frontin Crags, or Cloganough.

=The waukrife tenants of the heather
Were roused by me, or ane anither;
And aye the mair my pace I quickened
The mair the clamour round me thickened.
The partrick whirred, the plover wheepit,
The wagtail and the shearmouse cheepit,
And mony a youl I couldna name
Mixed with the heron's long, loud scream.

=Stoit-stoiterin' on by height and howe,
Long heath, thick bracken, birn, and cowe,
Bescratched by slae-thorns, briers, and whins,
Becloured the elbows and the shins,
Wi' fifty fa's owre stanes and stanks,
I faund mysel' at Berry banks,
And down the hill glack took my way
By Baron Hill and Westlaw Brae.

Quoth I, "Now, since I ken my way,
I'll hae a peep at Linn-ma-Gray;-
How glorious will be a sight
Of Linn-ma-Gray by the moonlight!"

=O ye wha never fight wi' frenzy,
Nor see blue deils like Helen Lindsay,
Who would in wild imagination
Turn topsy-turvy all creation-
What would ye deem in sober sadness
Of your mad poet's height o' madness
Benighted, in a lonely glen,
None near a helping hand to len',
Thrang hirslin' haunch-ways down a brae
Whaur folk at noon are feared tae gae?
And near the snab and round the hillock
Where Sandy Hume ance tint a bullock
And near the sleugh where Katie Downie
Was frichted wi' a gruesome brownie;
And through the spunkie-haunted bog,
Where sank the shepherd and his dog;
And owre the fragments o' the rock
On which the angly thunder broke;
And near the crackit creature's stane,
Where auld witch Magdalen dee'd her lane;
What man, not of sound sense bereaved,
Would one-tenth of these dangers braved,
And a' to get a dowie sight
Of Linn-ma-Gray in the moonlight?

=When in the bottom o' the glack,
I halflins thought o' turning back,
The place around was a' sae dreary,
And I began to be some eerie;
Yet edging forward, by stap and stap,
I goupit up the gloomy gap,
Arid though that goup I'll never rue,
At first I shivered through and through;
The flesh clung closer to my banes,
The blood stood lappered in my veins
At what I saw,-a stranger sight
Ne'er met the e'e o' wayward wight!

=Above me, standing on the block
Which bars the pass from rock to rock,
And keeps them steady on their bases,
Lest they should fa' on ithers' faces,
An aged veteran, gaunt and grim,
Stared hard at me, I stared at him.
Auld carls full often have I seen
Wi' sage and venerable mien;
For instance, there was farmer Davie,
And Stirton owre anent Powgavie,
And Miller, late o' Puddock Ha',
But this auld veteran beat them a'.
It is not in the painter's power
To give to canvas such a glower;
It is not in the poet's pen,
Nor in the lingo of all men,
A set of features to describe
Not kin to any earthly tribe.
The tear and wear of ages twenty
Will ruts and wrinkles trace in plenty;
But Time's intense corroding blade
Could never such a visage made.

Though in his eye there faintly peered
A smile as if he had been cheered,
Yet eathly ilka trace o' care
Showed smiles had lang been strangers there.
Down from his face, thick matted, strong,
A beard like floating fiscue hung;
His brow was wreathed with hazel branches,
Pine tassels dangled round his haunches,
His belt was of the saffron sheen,
And girt a cloak of laurel green,
His knees with sedge were bound about,
His arms were naked, stretched out,
With sandals clear his feet were shod.
A tangly tappin for a rod
He in his nervous right hand claspit,
His left a bunch of ivy graspit.

Still-standing, steadfast, down the rock
He stared, but not a word he spoke.
At this we may no wonder make,
Belike he dared not silence break,
For ghosts and bogles, all men know,
Speak not till they are spoken to.

="Auld friend," said I, "an ane may spier,
What brought and what detains ye here?
If sae ye dinna be spell-bound
To walk these drizzly rocks around,
Ane o' your venerable eild
Mith wile a far mair cozy bield!
But though ye seem sae unco auld
Ye're maybe no fashed wi' the cauld.

Are ye a goodly-neighbour stark
Far-famed langsyne for squodgie wark,
And seyin' sowens and spinnin' harn
And thrashin' nightly in the barn?
I thought thae chaps had left the land
Nae mair tae gie's their helping hand.

="Ye're surely no a water kelpie?
My certie, an ye be, foul skelp ye!
Sae far ye snouk na up the burn
Unless to do ane some ill turn.
If you or yours I have offended,
Its mair than ever was intended.

="Belang ye to the monkish order,
Wha thought nae ill o' secret murder,
Wha lived in cells in days of yore,
And damned poor bodies by the score,
Wha, as men paid you, cursed or blessed,
And sent a soul where'er you list?

="But aiblins ye're a Druid wight
Wha worshipped Samh on ilka height
Where standing stanes are to be seen,
And where they lang, lang syne have been,
Ere time by watch or clock was measured,
Or history in a book was treasured?
Though in this era of completion
We count your worship superstition,
I venerate the holy temples
Of which there now remain few samples,
Though a' your rites are now abolished,
I wadna wish your fanes demolished.

="For ancient history what a treasure
Ye could unfold, were it your pleasure!
Aye, ye could tell me weel enough
If Gowrie was a bay or loch?
Did ships at Flawcraig e'er careen,
Or at Glendoick ride quarantine?
When peered aboon the brue Inchmartin,
How lang is't since the Gael wore tartan?
Was it an earthquake's awful shiver,
Or plough, that turned aside Tay river?
Tell me, for, ever and anon,
I like to hear of times bygone.

="Was Fergus' phiz on babies stamped
When Romans on Rait hill encamped?
Who to the rescue led the charge
With sound of bagpipe, sword, and targe?
Were they a' banished from our hills
Ere mountain spates turned water-mills?

="When wives wi' hand querns were meal grinders,
Their kiln a girdle on het cinders,
Was Carse and Brae a' then a _Common_,
Where folk might roam frae morn till gloamin'?
Or had soothsayers then divined
That all the soil should be assigned
To those who had the longest whittle,
And fought the fiercest in the battle?
Was there on ane entailed a shire,
Including fishings, lake, and mire?
And d!d another get a parish?
(Och, sirs, that wisna very fairish!)
And had they right, when death had seized them,
To leave the land to whom it pleased them,
_To them, and to their heirs forever,_
_From sea to sea, from rill to river?_

="What lucky chaps were at the parting
Of Inchmegg, Inchture, and Inchmartin?
Who drove the stakes, who cast the trenches,
That marked the bounds of other Inches-
Inchcoonans, Inchmichael, and Inchyrie,
From Seggieden to Rossie Priory?

"Who gave ane right to doom his brother,
=To toil all day to keep him idle?
And, when he mounts, to force another
=To hold the stirrup and the bridle?
This is not in the heavenly plan;
This is the way of man to man;
This is not being kind and true,
=As brothers all should be to brothers!
This is not doing unto you
=What you are bound to do to others
Why should 'the few' all things secure,
And leave 'the many' to be poor?
Hath He not said-the only Giver-
'The land shall not be sold forever'?
And who could think that He would give
Man life with nought whereon to live?
Or bid lairds charge a racket rent
To put the landless to the bent?

="An earthly chain may rack and pinch me,
But earthly power can not convince me,
That such a state of things should be
In any man-community?"

=To all these eident questions put,
The hoary veteran answered not.
I ceased; when, with a look benign,
He raised his rod and gave a sign,
And there was to my sight disclosed
What silence on his lips imposed.

=For lo! as if by strange enchanter,
The torrent of the linn instanter
Gave o'er to gurgle, gush, and roar,
And splutter spray on lichen hoar.
It stood a column, white and high,
Fluted and wreathed alternately,
While glittering flakes of foamy spray
All scattered round in ether lay.
Asleep all nature seemed,-nor rill,
Nor stream brawled down Craighall's steep hill.
The wind was hushed, the bonny moon
Shone brighter than she erst had done.

=Our Bard stood still and rubbed his e'en
Like ane who half-asleep had been;
But after he had duly pondered,
And at the silent marvel wondered,
"Hey-day!" he cried, "the secret's blabbit,
I might hae kent ye by your habit!
None but the Genius of our linn
Hath power to still its thundering din!
'Tis strange ye here sae lang have been
And have not till this hour been seen;
Now ye may speak while I draw near,
For I may ne'er again be here.
The laird is gone who feared no ill
Though I had wandered here at will,
At noon of night or noon of day,
To view the scene of Linn-ma-Gray."

="All hail," he said, and as he spoke
His features, stern as Stenton Rock,
Began to soften down the while
Into a gaunt unwonted smile;
"Know, I'm the Genius of this linn,
And now have stilled the water's din
That I might speak whilom you're near.
Forsith your like's been sinle here!
Lang hae I gane about thae wa's,
Nor silence broke I erst, because
I kent I never could be heard
Save only by the friendly Bard
Wha first should heese me up to fame,
And in his pages put my name.

"Full well I know thy roundelay
Of bonnie Jean and Linn-ma-Gray
Ye've done your best to speak me fair,-
A greater Bard could done nae mair.
Aft have I feared Time might expire
Ere ane to me had tuned his lyre;
For since that morn these benches stood
Aboon the billows o' the Flood,
Although admired at anterin' times,
Afore I never shone in rhymes;
Yet 'tis weel kent beyond a doubt
I hae nae marrow hereabout.
'Twas sair to thole, while other places
Allured the Muses and the Graces,
That never ane should come this way
And speak a word for Linn-ma-Gray.

="The wonders of the Devil's Mill
And Falls of Foyers ring owre ilk hill;
The Cascade near the mouth of Tay
Is sounded far in many a lay;
The Rumbling Brig upon the Devon
Is touted through the vault of heaven;
But ilka ane will have his day,
And, trow me, sae will Linn-ma-Gray.

="At length I'm coming to my glory!
And tak' my thanks to Andrew Gorrie,
The chiel wha kens a' kinds of fruits,
Shrubs, shanks, shaws, flowers, and bulbous roots,
If they have any useful fushion,
Or if they're only fit for pushion.

="On that same day he ranged my bowers
In search of these botanic flowers,
Hope paid a visit to my cell
And told me 'All might yet be well;
The learned clerk is coming north
Who wrote the beauties of the Forth,
Loch Catrine, aye, and Loch Achray;
He'll note the beauties of the Tay,
And maybe thine, old Linn-ma-Gray!'

="This clerk, ye'll guess, is Jamie Knox,
Wha notes a' thing 'bout caves and rocks,
Auld Pictish towers and Roman camps,
Auld gavelocks found in mossy swamps,
Auld kirks, auld aisles, and castle wa's,
Lakes, rivers, bays, and waterfa's,
And sooner than ye'll say 'Jock Hector,'
He'll them describe or draw their picture.

="Now hear the pith of all my tale,
I'll soon be famed owre moor and dale!
I've got a visit now frae Jamie!
I'll fret nae mair, come what will o' me!
Though lang and sair I've been negleckit,
Right duly now I'll be respeckit.
I saw him, though he saw na me,
And marked the smeddum o' his e'e.
To speak him, mair than ance I tried;
But that the ruling fates denied,
Because he reckons it a crime
To dip his ready pen in rhyme.

="What I have said note in thy pages,
I'11 maybe speak nae mair for ages."

=Here ceased his voice.  The spell was broken,
The number of his words was spoken.
Again the waters of the linn
Sprang owre the rock wi' rushing din.

The moon grew dim, the north wind blew,
The Genius vanished from my view.
A-down the glack I took my way,
And bade farewell to Linn-ma-Gray.

A Legend of Kilspindie Castle.


ONE summer's evening, where the stream
=Roars down yon rocky steep,
Dame Huston in an arbour sat,
=And sighing sank asleep.

Fast to Kilspindie ran her page,
=A woeful boy was he:-
"Your lady sleeps in her green bower,
=And winna wake for me.

"A purple hue steals o'er her brow,
=Her hand is icy cold;
A little man looks through the yew
=With visage grim and bold.

"And aye he waves a wand of green
=And mutters to himself-
'Sleep soft, sleep sound, thou mortal mean,
=But wake a fairy elf!'

"Fear lent me speed in time of need,
=So fast I never ran.
'Tis sooth, I say, an elfin grey-
=It is no earthly man."

They sought her up, they sought her down,
=By pool, and bower, and brake,
But she was nowhere to be found,
=Or sleeping or awake.


'Twas when the moon's cold waning beam
=Shone on the churchyard trees,
The spire above and vault below
=Moaned to the midnight breeze.

A rap assailed Laird Huston's gate,
=It reached the watchman's ear-
"Who bootless calls so loud so late?
=You may not enter here."


"I could come in without thy leave,
=Without thy leave go out!"


"Then try thine arm that I may know,
=For I thy prowess doubt."

He heard no more.  A shadow passed
=Between him and the moon,
A moment ghastly pale he stood,
=Then dropped as in a swoon.

He felt a hand as cold as death
=Affording friendly aid;


"Why do you thus your vigils keep?
=Get from this chilly bed."

He stood alert, alarmed to hear
=A voice he thought he knew:-


"It is the Lady Huston sure,
=My rudeness sore I rue."


"O can I see the babe that weeps
=Upon the nurse's knee?
And can I know if Huston sleeps,
=For him I would not see?"


"Thy listless lord is sleeping sound,
=For thee he feels no sorrow;
He sleeps to dream of steed and hound,
=And hunts the stag to-morrow.

"His love for thee was like a flower
=Long withered in the cold;
Alone he let you seek your bower,
=Or linger on the wold.

"Full often by Linderth unseen
=You sighed in sorrow deep;
Ah, why had beauty power to win
=What virtue could not keep?"


"To what you hear or see be dumb,
=Or ye may rue the sin;
Go tell the nursing-maid I come,
=And let me softly in."


Lightly along the passage dark
=The wily watchman passed;
Lightly along the passage dark
=Dame Huston followed fast.

And soon she stilled her baby's din
=And lulled it on her arm;
And she has kissed it, cheek and chin,
=And laid it soft and warm.

A comely elf stood at her knee,
=None knew how it came there,
"Fair lady, you must list to me,
=And quit a mother's care."


=="We must wend us away
==To the mountain grey,
Where the chill blast rolls from the rigid snow,
==And the wrens unseen
==Peep from between
The pillars of the icy castle below."

=Unearthly sounds were heard without!
==Like light they left the hall,
=Nor sought the gate to join the rout,
==But bounded o'er the wall.


=Now darted clear on Huston's sight
=The ruby streaks of morning light:
=The castle's gates are open thrown,
=The huntsman's bugle horn is blown.
=Anon, with whoop and high halloo,
=The antlered trophy they pursue
=Along the glade, up Gaston hill,
=By Shandry stream and mountain rill,
=Till far and wide, and loud and long,
=Grove, grotto, cliff, and cavern rung,
=Rung to the hound and hunter's yell,-
=When Huston's courser in a dell
=Stopped short and would no further go
=For spear, or whip, or stalwart blow.

Enraged Laird Huston's eyes pursue-
==Pursue with eager gaze-
The princely pastime still in view,
==Dim through the morning haze,
Till past the Fronton's giddy crag
==And Balvadera height
Rushed man and horse, and hound and stag,
==Beyond his range of sight.

=The while beside him stood unseen
==(Not heard but for a sigh),
=The lovely lady clad in green,-
==A green no man can dye.


"Can Huston shun his lady's face,
=A face he once thought fair?
Or quite forget her in the chase,
=And have no thought to spare?

"Or would he, if he might, undo
=The magic of the chain
That binds me to an elfin crew
=To follow in their train?"


"Fair lady, for thy beauty's sake
=And light step on the lea,
Thy tale for sooth I fain would take,
=But now that cannot be.

"For jealousy is quick of sight,
=And slightest glance can see
That thou hast cloyed thy moorland knight
=And now com'st back to me.

"I love thee not, broke is thy vow!
I may not, cannot trust thee now!
Away! thee and thy tale I spurn!
My love went, never to return!
Full well I through thy covert see;
Away! thou'lt make no dupe of me."


"I have a spell that well can prove
My sooth and unabated love;
That spell, if thou wert bold to try,
Would cure thee of thy jealousy."


"Beshrew me! for I am not bold
=To try thy magic spell,
To ape the work of wizard old,
=Or shrivelled hag of hell.

"I hate it more than coward mean
=Who skulks from noble fray,
When fame and freedom wait to hail
=The victor of the day."


"Now, since so sore thou injur'st me,
=Nor word nor spell have any power,
Tho' as loving a heart I have for thee
=As when I was led to my nuptial bower.

But, for thy jealousy unjust,
=When bursts on thee the conquering foe
Thy battle blade shall mock thy trust,
=And feeble hands shall lay thee low!

Kilspindie weirdless lang has been,
=And weirdless lang shall be;
On it no fortune blink shall shine
=Till generations three.

Thy fame shall fail, and thy towers decay!"
She said, and shrieking shrunk away.


Yet Lady Huston has been seen,
=At gloaming and at dawn,
By Dalrich moor and Craiglough green,
=And on Arnbathy lawn.

On Suedry top all night alone
=She'll nurse the sorrows of her mind;
Or rest on Durdie's moorland stone,
=And moan them to the wind.

If near the Gallow well at eve
=The Godden's children stray,
Her solitary cell she'll leave
=And join them in their play.

Then did she weave, with nicest care,
A garland fair for each girl's hair,
And for each boy would rushes take,
And sword and shield and helmet make.
A choice amusement taught she them-
Called to this hour the Fairy Game.
But never more, by night or day,
=Or hunting or at home,
Came she again in Huston's way
=Her lady-rights to claim.

Yet, for his jealousy unjust,
=When burst on him the foe,
His blade in battle mocked his trust,
=And frail hands laid him low.

And yonder roofless, ruined hall,
=Which once had turrets high,
Where shieldless pegs yet stud the wall,
=Holds sooth her augury.

Twa Megginch Craws.

AULD Winter, wi' his frosty snout,
Had left our isle and ta'en the route,
And Phoebus, with his genial ray,
Had swelled the buds on ilka spray,
And cheerful sangs of peace and love
Were lilted loud in glade and grove,
When musing by the Hatton Well
A Bard, by strange inspiring spell,
O'erheard twa craws, in doolful tone,
The tyranny of man bemoan.
The ane was auld, the ither young,
And thus the auld ane lowsed its tongue:-


"Dear bairnie, we may bless the stars
That brought us hither clear o' scars;
Had ye cow'red langer in the nest
Ye had been butchered wi' the rest:
O tell me how ye warstled clear
O' bloody fiends and flaffered here."


"Bless'd be the wings that hither brought me,
And from the pit o' ruin caught me.
Frae sic a scene of blood and plunder
Whae'er escapes it is a wonder!
I trembled, ilka lith and limb,
To see the furies fell and grim
My yealings by the thrapple grip
And down to grun' wi' vengeance wap.
The half-fledged gorbits screeched and cried
For mercy, but it was denied.
A hand was graspin' at my back
Ere I took thocht a branch to tak';
O how they stretched, and strave, and bunged,
Thick past my lugs the rackets fung'd,
Hard stanes, auld turfs, and highland bonnets
As thick as showering hail were thrown at's;
But aye I joukit ilka bang,
Though sometimes by the claws I hang,
And when their aim they couldna hit on,
They shoo'd and shook the branch I sat on.
'O,' thocht I, 'if I could but flee,
Frae danger I mith soon get free.'
But as I ne'er had tried the wing
I trembling sat, and said naething;
Till forced at last to quit my station
I tried to flee, through desperation;
And dourly did I ply ilk pinion
Till here I lighted, fortune's minion.

="And now, since I my wings can toss,
I'll sail o'er meadow, moor, and moss,
High eyrie, forest, glen, and hill,
And pick craw-berries at my will;
From wingless faes I'll dread nae danger,
To ilka ill I'll be a stranger."


"Poor, glaikit thing! ye little ken
The countless wiles o' wicked men.
'Tis them alone we have to fear,
For ither faes we dinna care;
A gled or hawk may hurt our young,
But gleds and hawks are easy dung.
If we could mount up to the moon,
And sail among the stars aboon,
For ought I ever heard a craw
Mith there be quit o' dangers a';
But while we are in this creation
Frae mankind we maun dree oppression;
They in this planet reign supreme,
And can the wildest monster tame."


"But tent me!  Mankind canna flee
High owre hills, like you and me!
To fecht wi' them it might be deein',
But we can beat them a' at fleein'!
When sailing high up in the air
What need we for their cunning care?"


"So ane would think, but, bonnie bairn,
Ye hae a lesson yet to learn.
Man can invent sic wondrous things
They dinna ken the want o' wings,
They weel can that defect supply
And a' the wit of wings defy.
A thing they have they ca' a gun
Wha's direful message nane may shun:
The very Devil wad repented
Had he sae curst a thing invented.
No ane nor a' his hellish engines
Can belch red fire wi' sic a vengeance,
I ferlie how they think nae shame o't,
I shudder at the vera name o't!
Though far awa', its very crack
Maist gars my heart loup aff the sta'k;
Just 'pap' it cries and doun ye thump
Upon the grund as dead's a lump.

="What ills to me and mine befell
I can by sad experience tell.
Last season a' my bairns it slew,
This year it leaves me only you.
In winter, when the snaw was driving,
And craws were right sair pinched for living,
I bore the gnawing pinch o' hunger
Till I could thole the pain nae langer,
Syne sleely to a stackyard ventured,
But ere a pea my wizzen entered
Off popped a gun! I got a yerk o't
Right through my thigh,-see yet the mark o't,-
And mony a weary day I limpit,
Of a' thing needful sadly scrimpit.
My helpmate, whom I loved, clean dead,
Went hurling from the cauld stackhead,-
I left him there, nor saw him mair,
Which cost me mony a bitter tear.

"Ae afternoon, no twa 'ooks syne,-
Ye then were young; ye canna mind,-
Three knaves cam' north frae Errol toun,
Ane had a gun, a gleg-e'ed loon,
And after feasting and galantin'
They set to work to clear our plantin'.
Ilk shot cam' like a thunder-clap,
Down reeled the craws at ilka pap,
The ither twa enjoyed the slaughter
Wi' shouts o' hoarse, barbaric laughter,
And keeked about, now here, now there,
Till they had picked the tree taps bare.
Low lay our bonnie bairns in bings,
A mangled mass,-heads, feet, and wings.
Sic spoilzie, rapine, blood, and death
I never saw sin I had breath,
And may my e'en be closed in night
Ere I again see sic a sight.

"Ye then was in your nest, a gorbit,
Nor mair could flee than auld John Tarbet,
But had ye been out on the branches
The leaden draps had pierced your paunches.
Down ye had hurled wi' darkening eye,
And soon been bakit in a pie
By baker Melville, Boyd, or Bruce,
The same as ye had been a goose."


"From bloody man, dear save us a'!
It's awfu' hard to be a craw!
Thae guns are surely fearfu' things
That kill us though possessed o' wings?
But when among the hills we flee,
Far frae their stackyards o'er the lea,
Or pick about an auld tree-root,
Will they then seek poor craws to shoot?"


"Aye, that they will, ye needna doubt;
Ye aye must keep a keen look-out.
Beware o' hedges, dikes, and ditches,
For there the foe in ambush watches.
Mayhap upon a rig ye light,
And though nae danger be in sight,-
Peep! through a bush ane points a gun
And lays ye sprawling on the grun'.
Though in the middle o' a moor
Ye scarce can deem yoursel' secure.
Trust not your wings, trust not your lugs,
But be as wily as the dogs;
Aye when ye find the smell o' pouther
Wing aff, and look na owre your shouther."


"O what a life o' dool and care,
Devoid of safety anywhere!
In terror a' our days are wasted,
Wi' double curses craws are tristed!
But tell me, do they really hate us?
Or do they slay us just to eat us?
Had they nought else to cram their maw
They widna leave a livin' craw!"


"Na, nat it's no the want o' meat
That eggs them on craws to maltreat;
The fields produce them food a-plenty,
And they on that mith feast fu' dainty,
But they're of such a perverse nature
They plague themselves and every creature.
The horse wha bears him owre the dubs,
And helps wi' a' the heavy jobs,
He'll whup and spur and dock and lib,
And chowk him wi' a cauld steel snib,
And when grown auld, forthcome the ferriers
And chop him down to feed the terriers.
The sheep wi' yearly fleeces cleed him,
The cow wi' milk doth daily feed him,
And yet he'll kill them when they're fat
To roast or boil them in the pat;
And then he'll pick their banes as bare
As ever corbie picked a hare.

="What can ane think o' siccan devils
Wha on their truest friends heap evils?
Yea, they of murder mak' a trade,
And wi' their guns kill ither dead'
They aftimes gather out in bands
And tak' the route to foreign lands,
To harry, slaughter, burn, and hang
The folk wha never did them wrang!
Yea, sometimes they will kill themsel',-
Which e'en a craw would blush to tell!
Sic monsters surely shouldna be-
Twa-leggit brutes that canna flee!
O wad some vengeance slay them a'
I'd bless the day I was a craw;
For truly, bairn, 'tis my opinion
The craws wad then hae the dominion."

At this our Bardie gave a lauch!
The frightened craws flew owre the haugh!

Willie's Maiden Speech.


Or, A Jaunt to Scone.


ATTEND, teetotallers! I summon
Attention to my story comin'!
A convert to your squad is gained.
O had I long agone abstained
From maddening midnight deep potations,
By you yclept hell-brewed libations,
By fiery froth of demons yeasted,-
Wae to the day that e'er I tasted!

Some men, with friends, from glass or bicker
Will take a sober drop of liquor,
And say goodnight, and swagger hame-
Such men are not so far to blame.
For me, when settled down to drink,
I instantly give o'er to think.

The losses I've through drink sustained
A fu'er pouch than mine might drained.
The troubles I've through drink endured
A stronger thirst than mine might cured.
Hats, bonnets, half-crowns, sneeshin mills,
I've tint in woods and whinny hills.
By quarrellin' cronies I've been drubbit;
By friends o' pund notes I've been robbit;
I've snored hale nights in moors unsheltered;
In mossy swamps unseen I've weltered;
In scutter holes hinch-deep I've been
Wi' dirt a' mertered to the e'en!

To speak o' ilka drunken story
Would tak' me ere this time to-morrow,
And so, to mak' the mair dispatch,
I'll just gie you a single swatch.


For sax lang 'ooks without a boose
Wi' Geordie I was reddin' pows;
And though, for sake o' brose ye ken,
I got a trifle now and then,
Until the job was fairly finished,
The pose lay little thing diminished.
But then-oh, glorious!-yes, then,
I clutched a sum o' twa pounds ten!
And sic a sum ye understand
A drinker seldom can command.
Five years hae gane, aye, every flaff o't,
Since I was maister o' the half o't;
And twice that time may pass and go
Ere ever I again be so;
But cre that time elapse, good keep's,
I'll be where Mungo Wylie sleeps.
See how I hasten on the way-
My pow is bald, my whiskers grey;
O, had I friendly counsel ta'en,
That gate sae sune I wouldna gane.

They told me, when I got the cash,
How drink had brought me to sic fash;
How I was neither clad nor sarkit,
Nor fit to show at kirk or market;
How I wi' Andrew ran clean donnert
Whene'er my fob wi' cash was honoured;
And how wi' him, for drunken brawls,
I _snuffed the dust_ aff Bridewell walls!
Sith, that is just as true's they said it,
For there for lack o' snuff I did it!

Yet, na'thless, when the cash I fingered,
Short time I for sage counsel lingered!
A new-born light beamed in my eyes,
I felt my indignation rise,
I felt my nerves grow kneef and crouse,
I could hae loupen owre a house;
I felt my lips together stick,
As dry as I had been wi' Nick;
A clamminess cam' in my mouth,
Which brought unsufferable drouth;
My tongue a' round my gums ran restless,
My palate waxed mair bauch and tasteless;
Nae power the impulse might gainsay,
The deil wad hae it a' his way.
All sober thought, all prudence fled!
I couldna brook the thoughts o' bed!
Wi' twa pund ten how could I sleep?
Sic owrecome fashes folk to keep!
Sleep! na, I wouldna think upon it,
The bees were hiving in my bonnet.

Where might I gae, where might I rin,
The glorious fuddle to begin?
Where but to Andrew, need I hide it,
Though it is little to my credit?
It was wi' Andrew heretofore
The wind was raised which raised the splore;
The last time that we had a spree,
He shared the tatie grab wi' me;
And now, when my own cow is calved,
Wi' him the butter maun be halved.

Though it was late and dark and rainy,
And though it raised a squall wi' Henny,
He started up when I lat ken
That I was laird o' twa pounds ten.

And now we held a lang confab,
Where might we gae to gust our gab?
The folk who deem this 'feckless chatter,'
Ken little thing about the matter.
A hostess garrulous and kind,
And welcome everywhere _they_ find:
While those who deal in drunken scores
May late and ear' find bolted doors.
There's Lucky owre the burn, nae doubt
When we are in she let's us out;
But that is when (as I've said till her),
She kens that we hae nae mair siller.
Now we are out, and there's nae din
That we can mak' will let us in;
With us so oft she had been cheated,
Our langest try would be defeated.
Tho' had she kent, what I kent then,
That I was laird o' twa pounds ten,
She would hae heard, and struck a light,
The latest hour in a' the night.

To Mitchell's or to Pearson's we
Then thought o' gaun to start the spree;
But there were some auld ugly debts,
Contrackit in our times o' straits!
And then we thought o' Jenny Wull,
But there the case was just as ill.
There every scrip must settled be
Before another drop we pree.
And we agreed it wouldna do
To pay the auld and cawk the new.

When aince a bird defiles her nest
To find a new one must be best.
So here, when naething could be done,
We houghed the glen awa' to Scone.
In Scone we trowed we would get on,
For there, forsooth, we were not known,
And there unhampered might enjoy
One full blow-out without annoy,
Sheer clear of all this clachan rabble
Who with one hair can make a cable.

Look-hame and Cutty-nose we passed,
Unfelt was Swirlhead's sleety blast,
Unheeded were the bleating sheep
On Cloganough and Baalhill steep.
The pee-weet swamps were all forgot,
Montague Mill we noticed not;
Though getting seggit were we baith
Ere we got through Shian Hill's lang heath,
Yet step by step, our spirits cheered,
Past Murrayshall, when Scone we neared.

Like fillies loosened from the manger
On craggy heights heedless of danger,
Like thirsty camels scenting strand,
Like famished sailors reaching land,
Like sleuth-hound when the track is warm,
Like wights allured by fairy charm,-
Such pith the prospect near imparted,
Light-heeled, light-headed, and light-hearted,
Away we scampered, quite elated,
Till in Patullo's inn we're seated.

Our hostess was a soncy lady,
And seemed to have all comforts ready.
With feet on polished fender planted,
We called, and forth came what we wanted.
First we had creamy crapple-mapple,-
It hunger stays and weets the thrapple,-
And we had porter, pot for pot;
And we had toddy, piping hot;
And we had brandy, without mixture,
Which operated as a fixture,-
And then cam' gossip, song, and laugh,
Wi' aye the other gill to quaff;
And then cam' friends wi' friendly greeting,
Rejoicing owre the happy meeting,
And then cam' ben the ale-wife's fairin'-
Ait cakes, saut haddies, and red herrin';
And then cam' mair than I may tell,
Until I fairly tint mysel'!

Three days and nights the fuddle lastit,
Till, purse and person quite exhaustit,
By Andrew left to swim or sink,
Or stand or fa', or die in drink,-
Near Morningside or Peep-o'-Day,
Or thereabout, be that as't may,
For lack o' better bield or bed,
I kennelled in a cauld strae shed.

How lang I lay there like a sumph,
That question ye maun spier at Grumph,
Wha, when my e'en glared frae red sockets,
Was munchin' meallocks frae my pockets,
Wi' half-a-score o' squeakin' pigs!-
Sic issue flows frae drunken rigs.


When thinking on their endless drouth,
Wha here sae aften weet their mouth,
I, in the horrors, often swore
That I would not taste whisky more;
But still temptation eithly nabbit
Me back to my auld cursed habit.

The dog was young wha now is auld
Sin' sic a tale by ane's been tauld;
An' dogs unwhelped wi' eild shall grane
Ere I tell sic a tale again.

My teeth would bite my tongue wi' anger
Were I to mak' my story langer;
So, shunning further egotism,
I'm come to join teetotalism.

And there's my hand, my friends and brothers,
For good to you and me and others
I hope I'll eschew future fall
And show example to you all.

Kinnaird Castle,


Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days?  Thou lookest from thy towers to-day; yet a few years and the beast of the desert comes.  It howls in thy empty courts.

="To you it brings pleasure, to us it brings groans,"
=Said the frog to the truant when casting sharp stones.

KIND ladies and sirs, I respond to your call,
And proffer the while to recite to you all
The thren of the dove, and the owl, and the bat,
Which an old minstrel mason was heard to narrate
When repairing the breaches which time, Goths, and war
Had accomplished, Kinnaird's hoary castle to mar.
It were well that some scribe with his scrip should attend
That the tale I recite may be all duly penned.


=The chirping bat flitt'd now in and now out
The corners and corbels and crowsteps about,
And the dove in a niche murmured "Cruddle-cur-doo,'
And the owl in a by-hole screamed "Tu-whit-tu-hu."
To others it only was cruddle-cur-doo,
A chirping chirp, chirp, and a tu-whit-tu-hu;
But the minstrel, inspired by the muses, was led
To divine and interpret each word that they said.

=Who brings these intruders our prospects to blight,
Deranging our holdings, invading our right,
Where our long since departed and worthy forebears
Found home and enjoyment for hundreds of years,
In loophole and raggling, and bunker and breach,
Where the foot of the foe of our tribes could not reach;
Where our fathers, and mothers, and we first saw light,
And with sisters and brothers performed our first flight?

=From the winding stair top to the grill iron door,
There is chipping and chiselling and smashing uproar;
Dear dilapidations defaced and estranged,
Confusion confounded, derangement deranged.
Shut out by roof-arching, and dagger-loops closed,
Must the dove to the falcon and gled be exposed?
And the bat and the owl, for dim darkness designed,
By the beam of the sun become dazzled and blind?

=What right have these vampires our peace to disturb,
Our haunts to assail, or our freedom to curb?
In the year eighteen hundred and fifty and four,
When civilization strips tyrants of power,
Can knowledge, progressing, bring concord and love,
But woe to the bat and the owl and the dove?
For we grieve to be banished this lovely old pile,
Sent like culprits proscribed into hopeless exile.

We never claim right to new castles and towers,
Yet natheless we hold all the old ones are ours;
And when lords of old castles, old castles forsake,
Possession we claim, and possession we take:
The ancient possessors all laid in the tomb,
Their rights we proscribe, and our right we assume.


=Where now are the builders who reared these old walls;
And the barons who forayed and fought for these halls;
And the warders who over these battlements frowned,
And directed the dart to inflict the death-wound?
Where are the retainers who wielded the sword
At the note of the war-pipe and call of their lord?
And the haunchmen who stood by their leader in strife,
To part from him only when parting from life?
And the minstrel who pledged their victorious host,
Or lamented defeat when the battle was lost?

=And where are the fingers that planted yon gean,
Which for centuries has bloomed and still blooms on the green?
Each spring, when it buds forth and blossoms, the boys
And the girls of the clachan in prospect rejoice;
And when the fruit mellows in July's bright sun,
To be first at the plunder the boys skip and run;
And they clamber and clutch where the geans cluster thick,
Far out on the boughs at the risk of their neck.
Now no lady warning calls from the high stair-
"Ye daring young elves, of your lives have a care!
To the red ripened fruit we may make you all free,
But you break not a bough of our bonny gean tree."

=Who trained the young ivy stem, tender and slim,
Blue boulder, gray granite, and ashlar to climb?
Now an old monster giant, wide-spreading and tall,
Strong grappling the corbels far up on the wall;
And, like legions of vipers, defending the seats
In the battlements built for calm evening retreats.

=Who scattered the seeds of the flowers which still grow
On the cliffs, and the knolls, and the dingles below?
And down by the Bow Den and Barton green knoll,
Where ladies and courtiers often would stroll,
Or recline in the arbour at pure Spinkie Well,
Where two gallant brothers in deadly feud fell
For loving, both loving, one lady so well.


Oh, sweet Spinkie Well! what a dirge he might sing
If thy tale to our old minstrel's ear we could bring.
The woodcock and water-hen quit Catlin springs
And steal up to Spinkie to bathe feet and wings;
And the dove and the bat and the owl oft repair
To that well so sequestered and shaded and rare;-
The owl and the bat at the sunbeam to wink,
And the dove to admire her own beauty, and drink.
The robin hops cheerily close to the spring,
And flutters, 'mid ripples and flashes, her wing;
And the wren and the woodlark and shy golden crest,
In the summer months singing, watch over their nest;
And the blackbird and thrush in the hazel bush meet
And warble long ditties in melody sweet;
And the wagtails come tripping, like girls free from school,
To snatch the _spin-maggies_ who skim on the pool;
While the bee and the butterfly tipple below,
Where spring-loving cresses luxuriantly grow.
The harebell and eye bright lean down from above,
Embracing forget-me-not, - "sisters in love,"-
Where tinklings of music,-drops, measuring time,-
Come soft on the ear like a distant bell-chime;
And mosses and golden-prides mingle and spread,
Like silk-tasseled drapery on queen's bridal bed.

=Who would not the beauties of Spinkie Well prize
Beyond all the carpeting art can devise?
Yea, no garden flowers, ranged by craft, can excel
The untutored beauties of sweet Spinkie Well,
Where the sprays in joy tremble when kissed by the rills,
Where the life-giving water the rock basin fills,
Where lichen and lady-fern flaunt in the breeze
That sounds from the boughs of the sycamore trees.

=Unhooding the falcon, or hounding the deer,
The King with his nobles no more cometh here;
Nor, where yon hill stream rushes down the long linn,
Meets Royalty rural maids, _ewes boughtin' in_;
Nor dailies with gentle dames on the green slope,
Where the fawn and the filly the clover flowers crop;
Nor enjoys from yon window, or battlements high,
A view which few other castles can vie.
A canopy o'er the hills arches above,
Like the wings of an angel expanded in love,
O'er the Garden of Gowrie, a beauty at rest,
The swell of her Inches, the heave of her breast,
The Tay a pure stream by her green kirtle flowing,
The sun on the wide expanse golden light throwing,
And castle and cottage, and lake and stream gleaming,
Sight worthy of saint in a holy trance dreaming.
And the dark Broughty Tower in the distance we see,
And the Bonnet, and Law Hill, and bonnie Dundee;
And the long Norman range of Fife hills on Tayside,
And the Ochils and Lomonds high towering in pride.


The builders who built these old walls build no more,
The foray-men down in the keep hoard no store,
The guardsman who grasped the keen glittering blade,
The baron who sat at the oaken-board head,
The minstrel who at their gay festivals sung,
When the sycamore trees in the alley were young;-

=Where are they all now?  Even echo is mute,
And their names from the record of time blotted out!
Undisturbed by the fierce slogan yell of the foe,
They sleep with their sires in the dark vault below,
Or under the night-shade in some unknown nook,
By the broom-shaded cliff or the murmuring brook;
The last that remembered them here,-are they not
In the land of forgetfulness also forgot?
And long generations, which then were unborn,
Have lived, died, and all been forgot in their turn.

=No steed in the stable stamps at the war call;
No trophy of victory hangs on the wall;
No battle-axe, broad-sword, dirk, halbert, glave, spear,
No mail-coat, no helmet, no banner is there;
No red blazing torches these grim walls illume;
No quick-crackling faggots in blazes consume;
No trumpeter peals, and no servitors wait,
And no cortege arrives at the fortalice gate;
No bustling cooks their rich venison fry;
The butt and the well in the cellar are dry;
The pipe and the harp and the timbrel have ceased
To enliven the dance and give mirth to the feast;
And no gaberlunzie wends hither to taste
The savoury fragments that fall from the feast;
Nor robin nor sparrow to catch on the wing
The crumblets which from their laps fair ladies fling.


But three sister ladies have looked on these walls,
And, with filial love for their ancestors' halls,
They have called on our minstrel to make meet repairs
On corners, crow-steps, corbels, loop-holes, and stairs,
And cornice and coping, within and without,
And gateway, and terraces all round about.

=For long there was hammering heavy and loud,
Like the rattling of thunder sent from a dark cloud;
Anon, all the clamour and clashing are stayed,
The cornice and coping rest on a fresh bed,
And the corners and crow-steps and loop-holes and stairs,
And windows and chimneys have got due repairs.
And the moulding, which time and the Goth had defaced,
Where the King had his chamber, anew was retraced.

=The work of the craftsmen comes at last to an end,
Adown the green alley in silence they wend;
At Anton's old inn of one glass they partake,
And join hand-in-hand in a brotherly shake,
With "Three cheers for the Castle, long may it be spared
To adorn the Carse and the Braes of Kinnaird."

=The owl has found lodgings at lone Linn-ma-Gray,
The bat in an old apple-trunk shuns the day;
But the dove on a bough on yon ash may be seen,
Bough twigless and scraggy, the leaves far between.
And, if ever they visit their old castle home,
Their visits more brief and less frequent become.
But the dove seems more loath her old dwelling to leave,
And oft sits on the tall gable crow-step at eve,
Cur-du, still cur-du-ing a lodgment to have.

=Here ceased our own minstrel, and leaned on the stone
Which his mallet and chisel lay idle upon,
While there hung on his cheek, though we cannot tell why,
One tear which another had chased from his eye,-
Dull, musing belike on the muscles and bones,
Which once lifted and laid these old ponderous stones,
Dissolved now in clammy clay, under foot lying,
Their lives unrecorded and dates of their dying.


They have charged a retainer the old key to keep,-
The key that long lay in the castle well deep;
And when keen antiquarians, learned and sage,
Come here to discover this Fortalice' age,
He will point out the dates and craftmarks on each stone,
To tyro and Goth altogether unknown.
And when city artisans, longing for play,
Come hither pic-nicking to hold holiday,
He can unlock the grill door and pilot the way
Through all the broad galleries stretching along,
And round all the breastworks and battlements strong,
And point to charm-relics which half-hidden lie,
And rare petrifactions, in niches thrown by,
Which existed before Mother Nature began
Arrangements to make for the order of man.

=And when they have done with their hasty survey,
And seem loth to leave, and regret the short day,
He will guide them down, down, to the deep dungeon cell,
And away to the beauties of sweet Spinkie Well.
And then, for the home-trip all duly prepared,
They will bless the restorer of Castle Kinnaird,-
A castle presuming for ages to trace
In the brook by its base its old features and face.

=The minstrel has wended far up the steep stair,
Like the hawk to his eyrie or stag to his lair,
And he looks to the rareties piled on each shelf,
And becomes all abstracted, and chants to himself
The lyrics and legends which to him were told
When he was a stripling by chroniclers old.

=Awake there is much that we reckon ideal,
Asleep all is tangible, earnest, and real;
And that which awake we the verity call
Peradventure may be but the dream after all.

The Witches of Strathmore.


SOME tales are auld, and some are new,
And some are lies, and some are true:
Some are of thieves and highway robbers,
Some are of statesmen and stockjobbers,
Some are of rebels locked in cages,
Some are of gipsies under hedges;
And there are tales of dwarfs and giants,
And tales of lawyers and their clients;
And there are tales of love and murder,
And tales yclept "Tales of the Border;"
My tale shall be of Strathmore Witches,
And Coupar John in search of riches.

=The ancient folk are feckly gane,
Wha kent the witch of Arthur stane;
Yet there are living wha can tell
What through her wicked arts befell;
And though she seemed a waefu' body,
Whom ane would thought no worth the widdie,
Yet mony a cart she caused to coup,
And cock and hen to tak' the croup.
And mony a soncie wean dwined,
Awa' to naething sadly pined
Wi' freats that nurses couldna bruik,
And ailments doctors aye mistook;
The kye were on green pastures blasted,
The swine for lack o' stomach fasted,
The goodwife's yarn broke at the twitter,
The dog ran wud that barkit at her,
The rotten wouldna mump her meal,
The caterpillar shunned her kail,
The dub afore her door sae stinkit
The very ducks refused to drink it;
Her power and influence were such,
She awed the poor and ruled the rich.

=The paidler plodding on his journey,
Between Drumsoudrie and Kilpurnie,
To shun her curse would let her tak'
The gayest guegah in her pack.
Whae'er at morn she first addressed,
Were for that day in trouble messed;
The thing they wished was sure to shun them,
And what they feared maist came upon them;
The pious prayed, the priest conjectured,
The sceptic laughed, the elder lectured
And told the Session plainly "Grizzel
Deserved amang the tar to frizzle."

=Sair, sair he rued that rash expression,
When he was ca'd afore the Session,
For witnesses came forth and swore
They saw him at Meg Skigie's door,
When decent folk should a' been sleeping

Or stayed at hame, due order keepin'-
By Grizzel's glamour sae bemisted
They swore to facts that ne'er existed:-
A lesson teaching poor and rich
That nane should weird ill to a witch.

=But we shall quit this subject fast;
We dinna wish a slur to cast
On elder grave or lassie bonny,
For now we maun attend to Johnny.


=Wha was as keen a poacher wight
As ever langed for good moonlight;
Wha aften, after his first sleep,
Would leave the bed and tak' a sweep
Around the fields wi' gun and dog
To look for wild duck in the bog,
Or partridge covey on the lea,
Or pheasant perching on a tree;
Snipe, hare, craw, heron, craik, or rabbit,
All, all was game that Johnny nabbit;
Yea, rather than he'd quit his gun
He shot at butterflies for fun.

=Brute shooting is a game that's noble,
Brute shooting brings poor wights to trouble;
Though for a time they may escape,
It aften lands them in a scrape.
And sae it happened Coupar Johnny,
As ye shall hear, if we tell ony.

=Ae night, near by Baldourie poaching,
He e'ed a batch o' hares approaching,
And in the thickest thrang let drive,
Missed fifty, but half-murdered five,
Wha a' limped aff, excepting ane,
And that was _her_ o' Arthurstane,
Wha, cow'ring in a fur unseen,
Escaped the glance o' Johnny's e'en-
A glance no very ill to shun
He was sae mittled wi' his gun.
The het discharge the piece had crackit
An' wi' the butt his shouther yaukit-
Aye yaukit, yaukit, dwanged and yaukit,
And put the body maist distrackit,-
And had the blessed valve that cursed
No opened, doubtless he had burst.

=After the third command was broken,
And fire invoked that none can slocken,
Wi' heavy heart the luckless wag
Snooved hame owre wi' an empty bag.

=The riot wi' him and the wife
We wouldna mention for our life,
'Twould fill a hale half-score o' pages,
And damn our tale in future ages;
For she had trysted Fiddler Kinnison
The followin' day to pree her venison.

=But why hae we forgot her witchship,
And no ane near to gie'r a hitch up,
And her sae sickened wi' a susket
Sent frae the muzzle o' a musket?

=Folk said that she came round alane,
And hirpled hame to Arthurstane;
And said,-dear kens how they got wot!-
That she was on the witch-mark shot;
And said,-though Girzie never said it,-
Fu' weel she kent the loon that did it,
And vengeance vowed, and set her girn
To do him some unhallowed turn;
And for this end took up wi' Johnny,
And she became his favoured crony.

=Whan mortals slept, and lich-birds wakit
Hale nights together aft they crackit;
And sair it puzzled Kate, his dame,
To think that he could gae frae hame
Ilk ither nicht, and bide sae late.
"Good send that he be nae black gate!
Auld age on him is fast approaching
And sinle now he tries the poaching.
It canna be that ane sae greedy
Will tipple wi' the auld wife Speedie?
It canna be that ane sae douce
Would gae to Meggie Skigie's house?"

=Thus, late and weary, ae nicht leaning
Owre deein' embers, Kate sat threening,
When he wi' her o' Arthurstane
Was lichtin' spunkies near Cardean;
Some to deceive Bob Mitchell's sight
When lookin' for Nell's window light;
Some to engulf cart, gig, and chaise
Ayont the bog set up their blaze;
And some, to wreck our ships at sea,
A beacon lighthouse seemed to be.

=Now, after they had sent adrift
A dozen, dancing through the lift,
Quoth she, and spread her wrinkled loof,
"Ye needna ony far'er proof,
Nor need I ony mair conceal,
That I have paction wi' auld Neil.
How would ye like to join our corps
And be a warlock in Strathmore?
Of gifts I have a goodly share,
And aiblins some for you may spare.
Hae I no marked your greedy e'e-
Ye would glaum riches speedily?
In wabsters' shops ye find a pirn,
In barest moors ye clutch a birn,
In cobbler's sta's ye nip a lingan,
In ilka yaird ye pu' an ingan,
And what ye seek that isna granted
Soon after by your wraith is haunted.

=But if by me ye will be guided,
Wi' better grab ye'll be provided;
Ilk night that ye a poaching gae
A weel filled bag o' game ye'll hae;
Hares in the seat by scores ye'll see,
And paitricks coveyed on the lea.
And, when ye sport owre moor or bog,
Ye'll hae a scent like pointer dog,
And never shall ye miss your mark
Although the night be dungeon dark."

="Thy gifts are great," quoth Coupar Johnny,
"And wouldna slighted be by mony,
Yet, though they a' to me were granted,
There's still a boon would be sair wanted.
Near this, as I am told, is stowed
A kettle fu' o' heavy goud:
The brazen bowl juts through the yird
Like some auld iron pitcher's gird.
Ilk plackless peasant past it hies,
Unconscious of the precious prize,
The tuneful larick sits and sings on't,
The yeldrin yaldrin trims her wings on't,
The evening sunbeam gars it glitter,
And there field mice and moudies litter.
Queen Mab comes wi' her squad at Yule
And sticks her standard in the bowl,
Syne hauds her revelry around it-
It's passing strange I have na found it!
Wi' catchy hammer I hae nappit
On ilka stane half-seen, half-happit,
Aft hae I like a mad-cap run
When bottle doups glanced in the sun,
Ten thousand times I've met wi' cheats,
Wi' bits o' spar, and links o' thetes.
Now, if ye gie me luck to ettle
Some day soon on this gouden kettle,
For certies, I will join your corps,
And be a warlock in Strathmore."

=Quoth Girzie, "Great's the gift ye want,
And ablins mair than I can grant;
But I shall do my best endeavour
To win for you the golden favour.
Sae, on some night when it is late,
Unseen to a', come east the gate;
And keep it secret what ye've seen,
Or ye shall rue it sair, I ween."

=The tryst was set, the confab ended,
And Johnny hame to Coupar wended.

=Ae dowie night, at Loanhead stane,
Atween the hours of twal' and ane,
The wily witch and Johnny met,
For then and there the tryst was set.
Fit time and place for incantation,
And warlock wild inauguration.
With gruesome laugh, quoth she, "Good e'en,
I'll try and get your wish be-deen.
But dinna scaur, for ye maun see
Our gathering, and that will be
The night, within Baldourie wood,
Where corbies croak for carrion food,
And owls, and other unclean beasts,
And pyets build their thorny nests."

=Now, with ae hand his hand she graspit,
The ither round the stane she claspit,
And muttering what nane may tell,
Nor A B C on earth can spell,
Wi' mouth like fire the water spurning,
And een like big blue blawerts burning,
Around and round and round she wheeled,
Till haugh and hillock danced and reeled,
Till Johnnie's harns grew dazed and giddie,
Like thief half-strangled on a widdie,
Till owre he floundered wi' a yark-
(The turf for years retained the mark)-
And on the lang grey stane still lingers
The ruts of Girzie's horny fingers,
And eke the circles which they traced
When fell intent her talons braced.

=The incantations thus concluded,
She raised her arms, of cloth denuded,
And, wi' an eldrich grin and yammer,
Again owre Johnny cast a glamour;
And syne she raised him frae the yird,
Pant, pantin' like a frichtened bird,
And gar'd him swallow some drap cordial,
And put him through another ordeal,
Which to his mind restored the kettle
Sae fu' o' uncorroded metal,
Which in a trice his spirits cheered.

=But here, mayhap, it may be spiered
To what can a' this story tend?
We'll tell you ere we make an end.

=As this night falls, sin' days of yore,
(Yea, some hae threapet, lang before),
Ilk witch and warlock o' Strathmore
Convened to hold their annual splore.
It was the night they paid the _kain_;
For ilka year Auld Neil took ane,
And if a wight they hadna cabbit,
Ane o' themsels his Neilship nabbit;
But if a substitute was found
It saved them till the year slid round.
To clear the score was Girzie's fa',
And Jock, poor Jock, maun pay for a'.

=And thus she coaxed him, while together
They spieled the brae through whins and heather-
"Weel ken I where the kettle lies,
And eathly mith it be my prize;
But sooth, I hae sae little use for't,
I wouldna gie a Shetland goose for't.
And sae this night, come fair, come foul,
Your clamp shall clatter on the bowl;
And then's the time for you to hoolie
And cram your wallet wi' the spoolie.
The spot again ye'll never find,
All, all is lost ye leave behind.

="But now we near Turftennant top,
And ye maun be the 'easin-drap.'
Whate'er ye see, whate'er ye hear,
Show nae surprise, nae question spier,
Express nae wish, pronounce nae prayer
Though fellest fiends should on ye glare;-
Hark! hush! the rout is on before us,
I hear them joining in the chorus-
My hour is come, the murky flag
Flaps on Turftennant's rushy hag."
She said, and forth a broomstick drew
And up the brae, like feathers flew.


=Now there came witches from Cargill,
Drumkelbie, and Kilpirnie Hill;
And there came witches from Blairgowrie,
Balbrogie, Buttergask, Baldourie;
And there came witches from Kinloch,
Byharrow, Burrelton, Bendoch;
And there came witches from Camphill,
Balgerchie, Scone, and Kirkland Mill;
And there came witches rank and file
From Legertlaw, Lintrose, Newtyle;
And there came witches file and rank
From Coupar, Kethick, Islabank;
And there witches from Whitelee,
Collace, Kirktown, and Auchmagie,
Balbeggie, Alyth, Meigle, Crunnen,
And from the Giant's Hill, Dunsinnan,
Akin to those who met Macbeth
And Banquo on the blasted heath,
Wha's snouts and chins in friendly greetin'
Were jimply twa strae braidths frae meetin'.
And there came warlocks auld and wizened,
In hamespun hodden duds bedizened,
Each leaning on a wizard wand;
And with them piped a music band
Wi' instruments from pandemonie,
Some like the pipes o' Caledonia,
Some like the fiddles sent from France,
That lure auld bachelors to dance;
Some like the fanners on the street,
We see when we Italians meet;
And some who had the shape and form
Of lizard, lobster, snake or worm,
Attuned by Satan's chief musician
To kindle discord and sedition,
Recorded in the book of Milton
For weary deils to tak' a lilt on,
Expressly for the gathering lent:
And wi' the concert there was blent
The bray and mew, and squeak and howl,
Of cuddie, cat, and pig, and owl.

=Now, Cacodaemons lang and lean
Came boring up through yird and stane,
Like alligators from the deep
Aboon the wave to tak' a peep,
Like ferrets from a rabbit warren,
With grunts like moles, and beards like Aaron,
And some had e'en like angry cats,
And some had leather wings like bats,
And some had hoary hides like goats,
And some had horns like Keiller's stots,
And some had nebs like carrion hoodies,
And some had hoofs like Saut Meg's cuddies,
And some had humphs like dromedaries,
And some were drochs, like mischieved fairies,
And some had arms like newts and puddocks,
And some had fins and tails like haddocks,
And some had birse, lugs, claws, and cloots,
Like swine and other ugly brutes.

=Sure sic a sight ne'er mortal saw
Excepting Tam at Alloway,
And theiker Mitchell, wha ae night
Witnessed the witch and fairy fight
Anent Pitcur's time-wasted tower,
Where fairies lang had held the power.
The witches wished them to decamp,
The fairies still refused to tramp.
The feud for ages had been brewing,
The tower threatened aft wi' ruin;
And had it no been Duncan Dub
The hags that night would done the job;
But with dour Duncan Dub's assistance,
The fairies held them in the distance.
The flail-tree in his stalwart hand
Is managed in a style sae grand,
He dealt them sic dumfoundering thumps,
Now on their scalps, now on their rumps,
They cower, jouk, and reel, and stagger,
Like poltroons when they meet a dagger.
He pitched them owre or in the ditch;
Aye, and their gnarly crummocks, which
They brandished to protect their shins,
In finders flee, like fiddle pins;
While at the loopholes bustling fairies
Annoyed them wi' thick showers o' arrows,
Which, pointed like a corkin preen,
Soon found meet cushion in their e'en.
At midnight mirk the fray began,
And lasted till the rosy dawn,
When Duncan dealt his dauds sae fast
The battle could nae langer last.
What groans were heard, what words were spoken;
What blood was shed, what banes were broken;
Wha flinched and fled, wha fought and fell,
I spiered, but Mitchell wouldna tell.
But this he said "I'm bold to say,
The fairies fairly won the day,
And beat the beldames blank and hollow,
And sent them sheughing down the Ballo."

=But lest we snap, by this digression,
The even thread of our narration,
We episode henceforth adjourn,
And to our tale instanter turn.

=In Coupar's Abbey the old bell
Had pealed a solitary knell;
Nature lay lolling in the deep
And still refreshing pool of sleep;
Blue torches on Turftennant summit
Gleamed like the tail of Halley's comet;
And music of the composition
Of Cacodaemons' chief musician
Was twanged in measures slow and quick,
Yclept "The Anthem of Auld Nick,"
Where the transition is sae clever
From breve to demi-semi-quaver;
From grave to brisk so fast they ranged,
Ere Johnny wist the tune was changed.

=O had Bob Mitchell been at hand,-
The leader of our Coupar band,-
He would have telled doun twelve pounds Scots
For leave to have ta'en doun the notes,
With which he would have welcomed Maule,
Wi' a' the Whigs, to Coupar Hall.

=Now Johnny had in bygone years
Been drummer to the volunteers,
When boors got belt, and dirk, and gun
To shoot at old barn doors for fun,
And haud the battle frae our door-
Brave guardians o' our blessed shore;
And when auld gaffer Grey got in
To place and power, through thick and thin,
And flaunting flags, pipes, drums, and flutes,
Attended clubs in high disputes,
'Twas _he_ who beat the noisy tub
Wi' noise to beat the noisy club;
And high he ranked wi' music judges
At dancing balls and Mason lodges;
Yet air or instrument resembling
Those on Turftennant now assembling,
At a' the concerts he had been,
Till now he'd never heard or seen;
Sair, sair and lang he plied his wit
To guess what air they ettled at.

At first he thought they played "Neil Gow,"
And then "The rock and pickle tow,"
"The lassie wi' the land and siller,"
"Nid nodding," or "The dusty miller,"
"Young Willie's wedding on the green,"
"O wat ye wha I met yestreen,"
"The lassie wi' the lint white locks,"
Or "Up among yon cliffy rocks,"
"The tailor cam' tae clout the claes,"
Or "My dear lad on Logan Braes,"
Or "Dainty Davie," "Kelvinside,"
Or Jamie Beattie's "Buskit bride,"
Or "Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railers,"
Or eke, "The Deil amang the tailors."
But whether it was ane or ither
O' thae, or a' thae mixed thegither,
Or some cantata fresh frae hell,
Was mair than Johnny e'er could tell.
Bamboozled, bothered, and confounded,
Wi' noisy instruments astounded,
At last he trowed he had hit
The tune, and, stampin' wi' his fit,
Was just about tae mak' a wager
It was "The devil tak' the gauger."

When lo! a tip upon the shouther-
Na, fegs, it was a hearty louther
Sent by a crimmock i' the hand
O' ane o' the Turftennant band!-
Yet friendly was the straik, I ween,
For she had Johnny's neighbour been,
And aft had laid on him her benison
When she was feasting on his venison,
And had an inkling o' the trick
That Girzie had made up wi' Nick;
And though a wicked witch, yet having
A kind of human wish for saving
The greedy body from the ruin
That they for him that night were brewing,
She kindly whispered in his ear
Thae words, inspiring panic fear:-
"Rin, Johnny, rin for saul and life!
Ere demons sharp the deadly knife,
Your banes they crunch, your flesh they frizzle,
An' ye come in the grips o' Grizzel.

="Rin, Johnny, rin, and win the race!
Thy fellest foe will lead the chase;
Gain Arthurstane, ye eschew evil
Beyond the circle of the Devil."

=The friendly hint to save his bacon
Was instantly by Johnny taken.
As waters rush owre rocky linns
So Johnny rushed down through the whins
Athwart the Crown Park Well awa',
Rinkemp, and Keiller's Sheenin' Ha',
By Dergie Feu alang Whitemyre,
Where Kinloch set the whins on fire,
And on to Arthurstane's craw planting,
Wi' duntin' heart and wizzen panting.
Yet notwithstanding all the fright,
And ample cause for speedy flight,
With a' his vigour plied to shun
The grip o' Girzie, while he run
He couldna from his mind dismiss
His lang and daily anxious wish
That he might stoiter on the spot
Where he would find the precious pot;-
Wi' eager hopes become sae blindit,
He really trowed that he would find it.

=Wha likes the piper likes the sang,
Our ain opinion's never wrang.
A' fortune-tellers weirding good
Are aye believed, and sae they should;
A' fortune-tellers weirding evil
Are leein' imps, leagued with the Devil.
Wha e'er of silken gouns shall bode
Will get a sleeve, or things gae odd.
Whate'er a fool delights to think
The clapper o' the bell will clink;
And what we wish for proof to tak'
Wi' shallow proof becomes a fact.

=On Johnny scoured, by dikes and ditches,
But had amaist forgot the witches,
He was sae ta'en up wi' the kettle;
When, lo! he heard the clink o' metal
Which cam' in contact wi' the iron
That strang bend-leather brogues environ.
"Now," thought he, "I'll the prize obtain-
The pot I've lang looked for in vain."
And doun he squatted on all four
And grubbit doun through felts and stour.

=What he took for the kettle lug,
Which cost him many a stalwart tug,
Was but the tappin' of a yew
That crawled across the avenue;
And, whether it was buckie shells,
Sic as we've seen by grotto walls,
Or pebbles, shingle, chad, or slates,
Collected there in time o' spates,
Or ither raffage for nae use,
Or cash coined in the days of Bruce,
To ascertain what man could hoolie
When clutchin' goupenfu's o' spoolie,-
When glamour to his ears and een
Had lent the gouden sound and sheen,
The hand and heart find full employment
At what we make our sole enjoyment.

=When ance ae notion tak's the lead
It drives a' ithers out o' head;
Ae swallow then will make the spring,
And ae wild goose the winter bring;
Ae scabbit ewe will smit a flock,
Ae jaw-hole splutter fifty folk.
When wi' ae error we forgather
We often meet in wi' another.
He aft louts laigh, and little lifts,
Wha turns his tail on honest shifts.

=Now, Grizzel's watchfu' e'e could mark
What folk did far off through the dark;
And though she felt red-wud vexation
When she saw Johnny quit his station
She leuch to see him, floutin' fear,
Ensconced among the glittering gear,
Cock-sure, engrossed among sic cares,
To pounce upon him unawares.

=She gae a sign-the music ceased,
And swith the instruments were cased,
When on their tough broomsticks astride
Adown Turftennant's Hill they ride,
Like silent waves in heaving motion
Alang the surface of the ocean;
Like hiving bees in summer sheen
Each striving to win neist their queen,
The warlocks and the wizzened hags
Scour on by quarry holes and crags,
And heathy height and hillock stony,
A' striving to get grips o' Johnny;
Like trusty sleuth-hounds onwards sweeping,
They near the goal, the trail aye keepin',
From right to left, debarrin' din,
They close their files and close him in.

=Now, Johnny was for speed unmatched,
And halflin hares had often catched,
And no twa stane-casts frae the hollow,
Whaur deil or dragon daured na follow,
And Girzie, dreading an escape,
Made ae lang last effective leap,
And clutched his lugs-the gruesome roar
He gave was heard through a' Strathmore.

=Ye've seen a boar by moonlight snoukin',
Pounce on a moudy-wort thrang houkin'-
So darted Girzie on our Johnny-
A friendly meeting wi' his crony!
Ye've heard a grumphy pourin' life
Aneath the bloody butcher's knife,
And doubtless ne'er heard baulder skreecher:
Sith, Johnny's yells were fiercer, heicher-
The human yell o' desperation
Cow'd a' the yells of this creation.

=Now, ye maun ken that by our lore
We ken what few folk kent afore-
That witches hae but ae dire grip,
Their prey escapes if that should slip,
And sae it happened in this touzie
The schemes of Girzie to bamboozle.

=And here we fain would be auricular,
For now we wish to be particular,
Scared by the squall which Johnny raised
When by the lugs and haffits seized,
A thousand craws, from sleep aroused
And floundering through the rookery boughs,
Bedim the lift wi' outstretched pinions,
Like fiends let loose frae dark dominions,
Fraught with a message unto Dan,
"The great big Irish beggar-man."
Amid this flutterin' and crawin'
Auld Girzie thought the lift was fa'in';
And, whilom round and up she gazed,
The victim, frae her grip released,
Took to his heels in double-quick time,
And gae na warlock, witch, or Nick time
Again to get him in their clutches,
But left behind the pose o' riches,
And eke in Girzie's tiger claws
Lumps o' his lugs, like tags of tawse-
Whilk mattered little, luckless wight,
For clean deliret wi' the fright,
Onward, and on, and on he ran,
Fire in the rear, flood in the van;
And after many a weary wriggle
He perished in the Moss o' Meigle-
A lesson teachin' that for riches
We shouldna league wi' deils and witches.

=My tale is told as far as paction,
But, for my reader's satisfaction,
I offer him a pleasant task-
The Coupar oracle to ask
How William Mitchell found the kettle,
And how, though of the strangest metal,
He said-and I say, who have seen it-
That _no ae grain of gold was in it!_


The Lord's Prayer.

OUR Father, who in Heaven art,
=Praise to Thy holy name be given;
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done
=On earth as it is done in Heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,-
=The bread by which while here we live;
And oh! forgive us all our debts
=As we our debtors all forgive.

Into temptation lead us not,
=From every evil us deliver,
The kingdom, power, and glory Thine;
=Amen, forever and forever.

The Ten Commands.

THOU shalt not any other God
=Before me have at all;
Nor set up graven images
=Before them down to fall.

The Lord thy God's most holy Name
=Thou shalt not take in vain;
The Sabbath in remembrance keep,
=And holy rest maintain.

Unto thy earthly parents give
=The honour that is due;
And do not in a murderous deed
=Thy hand with blood imbrue.

Let chastity o'er all thy thoughts
=And words and acts prevail;
What to thy neighbour doth belong
=See that ye do not steal.

And do not thou false witness bear
=To do thy neighbour wrong;
Nor covet anything that to
=Thy neighbour doth belong.

"Kirk where our Fathers."

The following lines, along with other documents, were deposited in the Foundation Stone of the Free Kirk of Errol, which was built by the poet.

KIRK where our fathers assembled to pray,
Kirk where our mothers kept holy the day,
Kirk from the good old path far gone astray,
Kirk bound in fetters strong, farewell for aye.
Kirk of the Covenant, Kirk of the Free,
Scotch Presbyterian Kirk now for me,
Kirk held at bay by the men of the world,
Kirk where Christ's banner is freely unfurled,
Kirk where no patron her bulwarks break down,
Kirk where no earthly power toucheth her crown,
Kirk whose foundation is laid on the rock,
Kirk of Christ's kingdom, and Christ's little flock,
Kirk where all fear but the fear of our God
Under the feet of her members is trod,
Kirk where the pathway is pleasant and straight,
Kirk where the yoke and the burden is light,
Kirk where the rich and poor equal shall be,
Kirk where the captive and slave is made free,
Kirk where the tie is true Christian love,
Kirk despised here below, glorious above,
Kirk for whose sake I forfeited the favour
Of those who gave promise to see me want never,
Kirk, in the day and the hour of thy need,
Kirk, I go with thee, and wish thee God speed!
Kirk while I build, may I hold on the road
To a Temple whose Builder and Maker is God.