BOOK XII - NATURE 156 - OF THE DAY ESTIVALL O PERFITE Light, whilk shed away =The darkenes from the light, And set a ruler ou'r the day, =Ane other ou'r the night— Thy glorie when the day foorth flies, =Mair vively does appear, Nor at midday unto our eyes =The shining sun is cleare. The shadow of the earth anon =Removes and drawes by; Syne in the East, when it is gone, =Appeares a clearer sky: Whilk sune perceives the little larks, =The lapwing and the snyp, And tunes their sangs like Nature's clarks, =Ou'r medow, muir, and stryp. They dread the day fra they it see, =And from the sight of men, To seats and covers fast they flee, =As lyons to their den. Our hemisphere is poleist clean =And lightened more and more, While every thing be clearly seen, =Whilk seemed dim before: Except the glistering astres bright, =Which all the night were cleere, Offusked with a greater light, =Na langer does appeare. The golden globe incontinent =Sets up his shining head, And ou'r the earth and firmament =Displayes his beams abraid. For joy the birds with boulden throts =Aganis his visage sheen, Takes up their kindlie musicke notes =In woods and gardens green. Upbraids the carefull husbandman, =His corns and vines to see; And every tymous artisan =In buith works busilie. The pastor quits the slothfull sleep =And passis forth with speede, His little camow-nosed sheepe =And rowting kye to feede. The passenger, from perils sure =Gangs gladly forth the way: Brief, everie living creature =Takes comfort of the day. The dew upon the tender crops, =Like pearles white and round, Or like to melted silver drops, =Refreshes all the ground. The misty rouke, the clouds of raine =From tops of mountaines skails, Cleare are the highest hills and plaine, =The vapors takes the vales. Begaried is the saphire pend =With spraings of scarlet hue, And preciously from end till end =Damasked white and blue. The ample heaven of fabric sure =In cleannes does surpas The crystall and the silver pure, =Or clearest poleist glass. The time sa tranquil is and still, =That na where sall ye find— Saif on ane high and barren hill— =Ane aire of piping wind. All trees and simples great and small, =That balmie leaf do bear, Nor they were painted on a wall =Na mair they move or steir. Calm is the deep and purpour sea. =Yea, smoother nor the sand; The wavis that wolt'ring wont to be, =Are stable like the land. Sa silent is the cessile air,— =That every cry and call, The hills, and dales, and forest fair =Againe repeates them all. The rivers fresh, the caller streams =Ou'r rockes can softlie rin, The water cleare like crystall seems, =And makes a pleasant din. The flourishes and fragrant flowers, =Throw Phoebus' fost'ring heit, Refresh'd with dew and silver showres, =Casts up ane odour sweet. The clogged, busie humming bees, =That never thinks to drowne, On flowers and flourishes of trees, =Collects their liquor browne. The sunne maist like a speedie post =With ardent course ascends, The beautie of the heavenlie host =Up to our zenith tends. Nocht guided by na Phaeton, =Nor trained in a chyre, But by the High and Haly One, =Whilk does all where empire. The burning beams down from his face =Sa fervently can beat, That man and beast now seeks a place =To save them fra the heat.... The herds beneath some leafie tree, =Amids' the flowers they lie; The stable ships upon the sea =Tends up their sails to dry.... Back from the blue paymented whin, =And from ilk plaister wall, The hot reflexing of the sunne =Inflams the aire and all. The labourers that timelie raise, =All wearie, faint, and weake For heat, down to their houses gais, =Noon-meate and sleepe to take. The caller wine in cave is sought, =Men's brothing breists to cule; The water cauld and cleare is brought, =And sallets steip't in ule. Some plucks the honie plum and peare, =The cherrie and the peache; Some likes the reamand London beer, =The bodie to refresh. Forth of their skeps some raging bees =Lyes out and will not cast; Some other swarmes hives on the trees =In knots togidder fast. The corbies, and the kekling kais =May scarce the heate abide; Hawks prunyeis on the sunnie braes =And wedder's back and side. With gilded eyes and open wings, =The cock his courage shawes, With claps of joy his breast he dings, =And twentie times he crawes. The dow with whistling wings sa blue, =The winds can fast collect, His purpour pennes turnes mony hue =Against the sunne direct. Now noone is went, gane is midday, =The heat does slake at last, The sunne descends downe west away, =Fra three of clock be past. The rayons of the sunne we see =Diminish in their strength, The shade of everie tower and tree =Extended is in length. Great is the calme, for everie where =The wind is sitten downe; The reek thrawes right up in the air =From everie tower and towne. The mavis and the philomene, =The stirling whistles loud, The cushats on the branches green =Full quietly they crowd. The gloaming comes, the day is spent, =The sunne goes out of sight, And painted is the occident =With purpour sanguine bright. Our west horizon circuler, =Fra time the sunne be set, Is all with rubies (as it were) =Or rosis reid ourfret. What pleasure were to walke and see, =Endlang a river cleare, The perfite form of everie tree =Within the deepe appeare. O, then it were a seemlie thing, =While all is still and calme, The praise of God to play and sing =With cornet and with shalme! All labourers drawes hame at even, =And can till other say, Thankes to the gracious God of heaven, =Whilk sent this summer day. =======_Alexander Hume_. 157 - PROCUL NEGOTIIS Now when the dog-day heats begin To birsle and to peel the skin, May I lie streekit at my ease Beneath the caller shady trees (Far frae the din o' Borrowstown), Where water plays the haughs bedown; To jouk the simmer's rigour there, And breathe a while the caller air, ‘Mang herds, and honest cottar fouk, That till the farm and feed the flock Careless o' mair, wha never fash To lade their kist wi' useless cash, But thank the gods for what they've sent O' health eneugh, and blythe content, And pith that helps them to stravaig Ower ilka cleugh and ilka craig; Unkenn'd to a' the weary granes That aft arise frae gentler banes, On easy chair that pamper'd lie, Wi' baneful viands gustit high, And turn and fauld their weary clay, To rax and gaunt the live-lang day. =======_Robert Fergusson_. 158 - A WINTER DAY So busteously Boreas his bugill blew, The deer full dern doune in the dalis drew; Smal births flokand throw thik ronnis thrang In chyrming and with cheping changit thair sang, Seekand hidlis and hirnis them to hyde Fra feirfull thudis of the tempestuous tyde. The wattir-lynnis routtis, and every lynde Whyslyt and brayt of the swouchand wynde. Puir laboraris and byssy husband-men Went wet and wery draglyt in the fen; The silly scheip and thair lytill hyrd-groomis Lurkis undir lee of bankis, wodys, and broomys; And othir dauntit greater bestial Within thair stabillis sesyt into stall, Sic as mulis, horsis, oxen, and ky, Fed tuskit boaris, and fat swyne in sty, Sustenit war by mannis governance, On harvest and on symmeris purveyance. Widewhair with force so Eolus schouttis schyll In this congealyt sessoune scharp and chyll, The caller air, penetrative and pure, Dasying the bluide in every creature, Made seik warm stovis and bien firis hot, In double garment cled and wyly-coat, With mychty drink, and meatis comfortive, Agayne the stormie wynter for to strive. =======_Gawain Douglas_. 159 - THE SPATE =_The Auld Brig of Ayr speaks :—_ CONCEITED gowk! puff'd up wi' windy pride! This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide; And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn, I'll be a brig, when ye're a shapeless cairn! As yet ye little ken about the matter, But twa-three winters will inform ye better. When heavy, dark, continu'd a'-day rains, Wi' deep'ning deluges o'erflow the plains: When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil, Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course, Or haunted Garpal draws his feeble source, Arous'd by blust'ring winds an' spotting thowes, In mony a torrent down his snaw-broo rowes; While crashing ice, borne on the roaring spate, Sweeps dams, an' mills, an' brigs, a to the gate; And from Glenbuck, down to the Ratton-key, Auld Ayr is just one lengthened tumbling sea— Then down ye'll hurl (deil nor ye never rise!) And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring skies. =======_Robert Burns_. 160 - A BORDER BURN AH, Tam! gie me a Border burn That canna rin without a turn, And wi' its bonnie babble fills The glens amang oor native hills. How men that ance have ken'd aboot it Can leeve their after lives without it, I canna tell, for day and nicht It comes unca'd-for to my sicht. I see't this moment, plain as day, As it comes bickerin' o'er the brae, Atween the clumps o' purple heather, Glistenin' in the summer weather, Syne divin' in below the grun', Where, hidden frae the sicht and san, It gibbers like a deid man's ghost That clamours for the licht it's lost, Till oot again the loupin' limmer Comes dancin' doon through shine and shimmer At headlang pace, till wi' a jaw It jumps the rocky waterfa', And cuts sic cantrips in the air, The picture-pentin' man's despair; A rountree bus' oot o'er the tap o't, A glassy pule to kep the lap o't, While on the brink the blue harebell Keeks o'er to see its bonnie sel', And sittin' chirpin' a' its lane A water-waggy on a stane. Ay, penter lad, thraw to the wund Your canvas, this is holy grund: Wi' a' its highest airt acheevin', The picter's deed, and this is leevin'. =======_J.B. Selkirk_. 161 - THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR =WILL ye gang wi' me and fare =To the bush aboon Traquair? Owre the high Minchmuir we'll up and awa', =This bonnie summer noon, =While the sun shines fair aboon, And the licht sklents saftly doun on holm and ha'. =And what wad ye do there, =At the bush aboon Traquair? A long dreich road, ye had better let it be; =Save some auld skrunts o' birk =I' the hill-side lirk, There's nocht i' the warld for man to see. =But the blythe lilt o' yon air, ="The Bush aboon Traquair"— I need nae mair, it's eneuch for me: =Owre my cradle its sweet chime =Cam soughin' frae auld time; Sae tide what may, I'll awa' and see. =And what saw ye there, =At the bush aboon Traquair? Or what did ye hear that was worth your heed? =I heard the cushies croon =Thro' the gowden afternoon, And the Quair burn singing doun to the vale o' Tweed. =And birks saw I, three or four, =Wi' grey moss bearded owre, The last that are left o' the birken shaw; =Whar mony a simmer e'en =Fond lovers did convene, Thae bonnie, bonnie gloamins that are lang awa'. =Frae mony a butt and ben, =By muirland, holm, and glen, They cam ane hour to spen' on the green-wood sward; =But lang hae lad an' lass =Been lying ‘neath the glass, The green, green grass o' Traquair kirkyard. =They were blest beyond compare =When they held their trysting there, Amang thae greenest hills shone on by the sun; =And then they wan a rest, =The lownest and the best, I' Traquair kirkyard when a' was dune. =Now the birks to dust may rot, =Names o' luvers be forgot, Nae lads and lasses there ony mair convene; =But the blythe lilt o' yon air =Keeps the bush aboon Traquair And the luve that ance was there aye fresh and green. =======_John Campbell Shairp_. 162 - A NORTHERN MIDSUMMER MORN YONDIR doun dwynis the evin sky away, And upspringis the bricht dawing of the day In till ane uthir place nocht fer in sunder, Whilk to behold was plesance and half wonder. Further quenching gan the sternes ane by ane, That now is left but Lucifer allane. And furthirmore, to blasin this new day Whay micht discryve the birdis blissful lay? Belyve on wing the bissy lark upsprang, To salute the bricht morow with hir sang: Sone ower the feildis schynes the licht clere, Welcum to pilgryme baith and lauborere: Tyte on his hindis gaif the greif ane cry— "Awake on fute, go tyl our husbandry": And the herd callis furth upon his page To drive the catell to thare pasturage: The hindis wife clepis up Katherine and Gyl; "Ya, dame," said they, "God wot with ane gude will." The dewye grene powderit with dasyis gay Schew on the swarde ane cullour dapil gray: The mysty vapouris spryngand up ful swete, Maist comfortabil to glad al mannis sprete: Thareto the birdis singis in thare schawis, As menstralis playis, _The jolly day now dawis_. =======_Gawain Douglas_. 163 - MOORLAND PEACE WHAUR braid the briery muirs expand, A waefu' an' a weary land, The bumblebees, a gowden band, =Are blithely hingin'; An' there the canty wanderer fand =The laverock singin'. Trout in the burn grow great as herr'n, The simple sheep can find their fair'n; The wind blaws clean about the cairn =Wi' caller air; The muircock an' the barefit bairn =Are happy there. =======_R.L. Stevenson_. 164 - GENIUS LOCI ====(1) ====TWEED AND TILL TWEED said to Till, "What gars ye rin sae still?"— Till said to Tweed, "Though ye rin wi' speed, =And I rin slaw, Where ye droun ae man, =I droun twa." ====(2) ====THE BRAES O' MENSTRIE O ALVA hills is bonny, =Dalycoutry hills is fair; But to think on the braes o' Menstrie, =It maks my heart fu' sair. ====(3) ====OH, GIN I WERE A DOO =OH, gin I were a doo, =I wad flee awa' the noo Wi' my neb to the Lomonds an' my wings wavin' steady, =An' I wadna rest a fit, =Till at gloamin' I wad sit Wi' ither neebor doos on the lums o Balgeddie. ====(4) ====MANOR WATER THERE stand three mills on Manor Water, =A fourth at Posso cleugh; Gin heather bells were corn and bear, =They wad get grist enough. ====(5) ====BUCHLYVIE BARON of Buchlyvie, May the foul fiend drive ye, And a' tae pieces rive ye, =For buildin' sic a toun, Where there's neither horse meat nor man's meat, =Nor a chair to sit doon. ====(6) ====EDINBURGH CASTLE EDINBURGH castle, towne and tower, =God grant ye sink for sin! And that for the black denner =Yen Douglas gat therein.