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Ae night thy're mad wi' drink an’ wh-ring,
Niest day their life is past enduring.
The ladies arm-in-arm in clusters,
As great and gracious a' as sisters;
But hear their absent thoughts o' ither,
They're a' run deils an' jades thegither.
Whyles, o'er the wee bit cup an' platie,
They sip the scandel potion pretty;
Dr lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks
°ore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks;
Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard.
An' cheat like ony unhang'd blackguard.
There's some exception, man an' woman;
3ut this is gentry's life in common.
By this, the sun was out o'sight,
An' darker gloaming brought the night;
The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone;
The kye stood rowtin i' the loan:
When up they gat, and shook their lugs,
Rejoic'd they were namen but dogs;
An' each took aff his several way,
Resolv'd to meet some ither day.

THE COTTERS’ SATURDAY NIGHT.

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sught The short'ning winter-day is near a close; The miry beats retreating frae the pleugh; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose; The toil-worn cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does homeward bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th’ expectant wee-things, todlin, stacher through To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonily, His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie’s smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labour and his toil.

Belyve the elder bairns come drappin in, At service out, amang the farmers roun'; Some ca’ the pleugh, some herd, some tentierin A cannie errand to a neebor town: Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthful bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown, Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.

Wi'joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers;

The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;

The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; Anticipation forward points the view.

The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.

Their master's an' their mistress's command,
The younkers a' are warned to obey;

“An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand,
An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk or play:

An' O! be sure to fear the Lord alway!
An' mind your duty, duly, morn an’ night!

Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
Implore his counsel and assisting might:

They never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright!”

But hark: a rap comes gently to the door;
Jenny, whakens the meaning o' the same,

Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor,
To do some errands, and convoy her hame.

The wily mother sees the conscious flame -
Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;

With heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;

weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wildworthless rake.

wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;
A strappan youth; he takes the mother's eye;

Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
The father craks of horses, pleughs, and kye.

The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi'joy,
But blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave;

The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy what makes the youth sae bashfa'an' sae grave;

weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.

O happy love! where love like this is found!
O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond comparel

I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
And sage experience bids me this declare-

“If heaven a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,

'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
In others' arms breathe out the tender tale,

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale."

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart-
A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth!

That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth :

Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth !
Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd?

Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?

Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild !

But now the supper crowns their simple board! The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food:

The soupe their only hawkie does afford, That'yont the hallan snugly chows her cud:

The dame brings forth in complimental mood,

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The cheerful supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big Ha-Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart hassets wearin thin an’ bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; And “letus worship God!” he says, with solemn air.

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Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way; Yew The youngling cottagers retire to rest: Th The parent-pair their secret homage pay, A few And proffer up to Heaven the warm request Ag That he who stills the raven's clam’rous nest, o And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Ca Would in the way his wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; * I as Butchiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside. Th From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur o springs, No That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad: o Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, Na “An honest man's the nobles work of God." But I And certes, in fair virtue's heav'nly road, An The cottage leaves the palace far behind: *I've What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, (in Disguising oft the wretch of human-kind, lwan Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd! Ali O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! Unhe For whom my warmest wish to heavenissent! so Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil, stent for si Be blest with health, and peace,and sweeteor Lie And, O! may Heaven their simple lives prevent “And From luxury's contagion, weak and vile' My Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be tent, The fl A virtuous populace may rise the while, His And stand a wall offire around their much-lov'disk. lowe O thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide o That stream'd thro' Wallace's undauntedheart; And Who dar'd to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride, On Or nobly die, the second glorious part. "Aw (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, Th His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward') s Awal O never, never, Scotia's realm desert: Th But still the patriot and the patriotbao, And In bright succession raise, her ornament” guill T, Atto LAMENT For JAMES, EARL OF Th GLENCAIRN. | “h The wind blew hollow frae the hills, o By fits the sun's departing beam s Look'd on the fading yellow woods 1. That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding strea" T Beneath a craigy steep, a bard, , The Laden with years and meikle pain, B. In loud lament bewail'd his lord, w whom death had all untimely ta'e". o M He lean'd him to an ancient aik, - Mus whose trunk was mould'ring do" with years; F His locks were bleached white wi't". Wh His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears! A And as he touch'd his trembling h"P. | 0. And as he tun'd his doleful sang, W The winds, lamenting thro' their " “T To echo bore the notes alang. \ “Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing, n The reliques of the vernal quire! |

And in his book of life the inmates poor enrol.

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Ye woods that shed on a’ the winds
The honours of the aged year!
A few short months, and glad and gay,
Again ye’ll charm the ear and e'e;
But nocht in all revolving time
Can gladness bring again to me.

“I am a bending aged tree,
That long has stood the wind and rain;
But now has come a cruel blast,
And my last hald of earth is game:
Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring,
Nae summer sun exalt my bloom ;
But I maun lie before the storm,
And ithers plant them in my room.

“I've seen sae monie changeful years, On earth I am a stranger grown; I wander in the ways of men, Alike unknowing and unknown: Unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd, I bear alane my lade o' care, For silent, low, on beds of dust, * Lie a' that would my sorrows share.

“And last (the sum of a my griefs!) ... My noble master lies in clay; The flow'r amang our barons bold, His country's pride, his country's stay: In weary being now I pine,

For a' the life of life is dead,

*And hope has left my aged ken, * On forward wing for ever fled.

“Awake thy last sad voice, my harp!
The voice of woe and wild despair!
Awake, resound thy latest lay,
Then sleep in silence evermair!
And thou, my last, best, only friend,
That fillest an untimely tomb,
Accept this tribute from the bard
Thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.

“In poverty's low barren vale,
Thick mists, obscure, involved me round;
Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye,
Nae ray of fame was to be found.
Thou found'st me like the morning sun
That melts the fogs in limpid air,
The friendless bard and rustic song
Became a like thy fostering care.

“O! why has worth so short a date,
While villains ripen grey with time!
Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,
Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime!
Why did I live to see that day?
A day to me so full of woe:
O! had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low!

“The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ;

The monarch may forget the crown That on his head an hour has been ;

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oa O Tam! hads’t thou but been sae wise, Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, -**::::: As taen thy ain wife Kate's advice A better never lifted leg, -**- She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire, ' 'o, A blethring, blustering, drunken blellum ; Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; ** That frae November till October, Whyles holding fast his guid blue bonnet; ** Ae market-day thou was na sober; Whyles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; **** That ilka melder, wi' the miller, Whyles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, or. Thou sat as long as thou had siller; Lest bogles catch him unawares; a That ev’ry naig was ca'd a shoe on, Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, o The smith and thee gat roaring fou on ; Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. o That at the L–d's house, ev'n on Sunday, By this time he was cross the ford, o - Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Monday. Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd; *...* She prophesy'd, that, late or soon, And past the birks and meikle stane, *** Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon; Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck bane; ** * Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, And through the whins, and by the cairn, o: By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; so Ah, gentle dames ; it gars me greet, And near the thorn, aboon the well, -- To think how monie counsels sweet, Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. ** How monie lengthen'd sage advices, Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars through the woods;

The husband frae the wife despises!
But to our tale: Ae market night,
Tam had got planted unco right;
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Wi’reaming swats, that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, souter Johnny,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony.
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter;
And aye the ale was growing better:
The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi’ favours secret, sweet, and precious:
The souter tauld his queerest stories;
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus:
The storm without might rair and rustle,
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.
Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy;
As bees flee hame wi' lades of treasure,
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure :
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a’ the ills o' life victorious.

The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
Near and more near the thunders roll;
When, glimmering through the groaning trees,
Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;
Through ilka bore the beams were glancing:
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn
What dangers thou canst make us scorn
Wi’ tippenny, we fear nae evil;
Wi’usquabae, we'll face the Devil :
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,
Fair play, he car'd na Deil's a boddle.
But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,
Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
She ventur'd forward on the light;
And, vow ! Tam saw an unco sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance,
Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys and reels
Put life and mettle in their heels. *
A. in the east,

er - - *

e sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;

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The Deil had business on his hand.

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