BY GORDON ERASER, AUTHOR OF "SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES OF WIGTOWN AND WHITHORN," AND "LOWLAND LORE." WIGTOWN: GORDON FRASER, AND THE BOOKSELLERS. MDCCCLXXXV. LOAN STACK orKon anto FuAn Dedicated by the Author TO TTbe ZTfoousant) 6aUo\>ffcians t GOOD MEN AND TRUE, WHO SUBSCEIBED TO THE "SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES OF WIGTOWN AND WHITHORN,' AND RAN THE WORK OUT OF PRINT. 518 PREFACE. THE following Verses are offered to the Public as an humble contribution to the stock of Poems which treat of Social Problems, Human Brotherhood, and the Love of Home and Country. If they tend in any degree to remind readers that "God made of one blood all nations of men," that "we are brethren a';" and help in any measure to nerve the toiler's arm, to foster Contentment, to inculcate Virtue, and dissuade from Vice, the Author will reckon his efforts not altogether vain. The lines may occasionally limp, but the spirit which animates them is genuine, and the Author has endeavoured to throw his whole heart into them. They have been produced in the course of a very few years, and may betray defects which further revision and readjustment might efface. But where the effort is unpretentious, and the spirit and design are manifestly good, a generous Public will overlook minor deficiencies. WIGTOWN, June, 1885. CONTENTS. PAGE The Guid Auld Toon o' Wigtown, 7 Prize Poem, 12 Lines Written on my Forty-Eighth Birthday, ... ... ... 13 Naomi and Ruth, ... ... ... ... ... 14 A Dream, ... 17 The Britherhood o' Man, 33 The Maid o' Calderha', 37 Wigtown Toon, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 4 When I was but Wee, 5$ Lines Suggested by a Visit to Wigtown Martyrs' Monument, ... 60 How I Won my Nancy, ... ... ... 63 The Beauties of Nature, 64 To a Sleeping Baby, 66 Scots, with Holy Martyred Sires, ... ... ... 68 Peggy Broon, ... ... ... ... ... 70 A Heavenly Vision, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 7* The Standard o' the Man, ... ... ... ... ... ... 77 Aye Dae what's Nearest Han', ... ... ... 79 Bocht Wit's the Best Wit o' a', 82 The Sunderland Calamity, 83 Gone to the White-Robed Throng, 86 Tilda M'Graw, 87 Aye keep the Cat within the Poke, ... ... ... ... 93 We may not Meet Again, ... ... ... ... ... ... 95 I ken o' a snug wee bit Hoose, ... ... ... 96 The River Bladnoch, 98 There's no Twa Weys o' that, ... ... ... 101 "I that speak unto thee am He," ... ... ... ... ... i2 Ye Legende o' Sandie Dunne, ... ... ... ... ... 105 The Wreck of the " City of Lima," n Lines Recited on an Elder's Jubilee, ... 115 We're a' ae 'oo, ... ... ... ... ... 117 Tarn Targer, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 119 CONTENTS. PAOE A "Cup of Water," 121 Mary, ... ... ... 123 My Wee Lamb, ... ... ... ... ... 125 The Gairney Bridge Memorial, ... ... ... 126 O, Temporal ... 129 The Battle of the Bladnoch, 131 A' Reel-Rawl, 133 Love's Spell, 138 "He Giveth His Beloved Sleep," 139 Auld Drouthy Green, ... ... ... ... ... ... 142 The Twa Travellers, 143 What Makes a Man ? 145 What Makes a Woman? 147 The Wigtown Craws, 149 Response to Toast of " The Press," ... 152 The Auld Wives' Fricht, 153 WyclifTe, ... ... ... ... 157 The Victory of General Stewart, 160 The Wigtown Female Martyrs, * ... 163 The Men Martyrs of Wigtown, 166 The Bi-Centenary of the Wigtown Martyrs, 23rd May, 1885, ... 174 Motive Alone will Stand, 175 PeyasYouGo, 176 Bob the Bantie, 178 The Death of General Stewart, ... 179 The Girls o' Gallowa', 181 Jones's Baby, ... ... ... 182 The Battle of the Jeddarland, 186 Local Poetical Rhapsody, 194 Curliana, ... ... 199 Martin Luther, ... ... 203 A Hero, 206 Wigtown Curling Club, ... 208 The Maid of Bladnoch Side, 212 Lines Recited at a Dinner, 213 Aye Pick up a Pin, 215 The Wigtown Band, 217 The Lass wi' the Dolman, 123 The Bonnie Lass o' Bladnoch Side, 225 The Auld Pair o' Specs, 226 The Resignation of Sheriff Rhind, 227 John Tamson's Fright : A Ghost Story, 230 The Classes, 239 POEMS. THE QUID AULD TOON O' WIGTOWN, PON a gently sloping hill, Where Simmer flo'ers their balm distil, An' wi' sweet scent the breezes fill, There Stan's the toon o' Wigtown. Sweet visions fill the raptured eye As from its verdant summit high Each beauteous scene I can descry Frae aff the hill o' Wigtown. The dear auld hill ! it's like a mither, An' mony a sister an' her brither Hae toddled at her feet thegither, The dear auld hill o' Wigtown ! In happy youth, when a' was fair, Wi' playmates I wad aft repair To mimic Bruce an' Wallace there, Upon the hill o' Wigtown. 8 Ube Guto Eulfc Uoon o' Motown, An' still, though aft in sober age Tired wi' the fecht we daily wage, Cool meditation's counsel sage Descends on hill o' Wigtown. There may be toons o' larger size, Wi' grandeur that wad daze yer eyes, But 'boon them a' I dearly prize My native toon o' Wigtown. We may be richt, or may be wrang, But though abroad we far may gang, The heart springs hameward wi' a bang, Though it be only Wigtown. Whaur will ye get a purer air, Or scenes mair beautifu' an' fair ? The invalid may weel repair For health tae bonnie Wigtown. The eye beholds each scenic change The glassy Bay, the mountain range, The wooded grove, the fertile grange, Frae aff the hill o' Wigtown. The Bladnoch winds her devious way Through scented mead an' hawthorn spray, An' sparkles 'neath the orb o' day Close to the toon o' Wigtown ; Then hurrying onward to the sea, She joins her sister, silver Cree, Till in the Solway lost they be Below the toon o' Wigtown. Oufb Hulfc TToon o' Wigtown* Stretched to the south the eye can tell The sylvan glades o' Innerwell, While towering mountains northward swell, Like giants guarding Wigtown. The English hills, in outline grey, Like mastiffs rise above the Bay, An' Mona's distant heights survey The Windyhill at Wigtown. We feel we verge on classic ground, For when we cast our eyes around, We see whaur great Sir Walter found Twa subjects near to Wigtown. An' past this hill King Jamie rade, When pilgrimage of old he made ; And Wallace heaved his trusty blade To free the toon o' Wigtown. An' best o' a', on history's page The tale shall leeve frae age to age How Martyrs braved the tyrant's rage, An' suffered death at Wigtown. Here Business rows a leisure oar, Grasps not at boundless earthly store ; If ends are met it asks no more, But leeves content at Wigtown. Nae helter-skeltering here an' there ; Peace frae the clouds aboon her Square Extends her olive wand sae fair, An' blesses cannie Wigtown. 10 Tlbe outt) Hulfc Uoon o' Wigtown. Should poverty, or dire distress, Some hapless family oppress, Straight shall the hand o' bounty bless A' such in kindly Wigtown. She boasts o' mony an honoured son, Wha laurels in the world ha'e won : She claps their heads, and cries, " Weel done ! Ye worthy bairns o' Wigtown." Wi' mither's fondness, in her face, She views her daughters' every grace, An' hopes their parents' steps they'll trace, An' mak 7 guid wives in Wigtown. Her rulers in the days gone by Were men whase common-sense stood high ; By instinct almost they could try An' punish crime in Wigtown. Sometimes in making local laws, Their graver wark has ta'en a pause, An' then they'd try the fate o' craws Perched on the trees in Wigtown. An' weel we mind a year ago A dreidfu' water-storm did blow, But things are much in statu quo It's maybe best for Wigtown. When Winter's biting breezes blaw, We view the sterile plains o' snaw, Or crested waves that rairing fa', An' lash the foot o' Wigtown. (Bute Hulfc Uoon o' Wigtown* 11 When Spring revives the sleeping earth, An* calls the vernal flo'ers to birth, An' lambkins sport in youthfu' mirth, 'Tis passing fair at Wigtown. An' when, in a' the Simmer's pride, Oor hill is richly beautified, Oh ! sweet an' calm the moments glide In splendour here at Wigtown. As comes the mellow. Autumn time, When golden fields are in their prime, An' reapers lilt their merry rhyme, 'Tis passing sweet at Wigtown. Ye gentle zephyrs, saftly blaw, An' nicht's refreshing dew-draps fa', On this dear hill, lo'ed best o' a', That bears the toon o' Wigtown. Still may its sturdy massive rock Escape frae geologic shock, And Neptune's trident grimly mock, The stoot auld hill o' Wigtown. Dear spot ! here hast thou seen my birth, My times o' sorrow and o' mirth ; Sae, when I bid adieu to earth, O, bury me at Wigtown. An' ower me raise a modest stane, To tell the folk, when I am gane, The cauld mools wrap the bane's o' ane Wha wrote an' sang o' Wigtown. 12 prise poem. Deep shall my dreamless slumbers be, Thus cradled near the restless sea ; The waves shall sing my lullaby Near to the hill o' Wigtown. An' when the call to rise is given, An' sinners to their doom are driven, May I an' mony mair to heaven Ascend frae oot o' Wigtown. PRIZE POEM. (This Poem toon a Prize of 2 2s, offered by a Glasgow Periodical for the best new Song. ) fHE sun, declining in the west, Illumed with gold Kirvennie's crest, As on an eve in Summer-tide I met my Maid by Bladnoch side. Lindarroch's woods were clothed in green, . And sweetly smiled the sylvan scene : All Nature wore her Summer pride That calm still eve by Bladnoch side. The little birds sweet warbling made ; Mong scented groves in woodland shade, While with Love's tale I duly plied My Maiden's ear by Bladnoch side. 3Lfnes Written on ms 48tb Love's crimson blush suffused her face, In which shone every virgin grace, As to my vows she low replied In gentle words by Bladnoch side. Sweet are the charms of opening day, Sweet linnets' song on perfumed spray ; But sweeter when commingling glide Two youthful hearts by Bladnoch side. I envy not the rich and great Their sordid wealth and pompous state That day I claim my beauteous bride I'll happier be by Bladnoch side. LINES WRITTEN ON MY FORTY-EIGHTH BIRTHDAY. dozen summers o'er my' head have sped, With their experiences of joy and woe, Since to this earthly frame my spirit fled, And took its place with mortals here below. And as the thoughtful traveller marks each stage Upon the journey he doth undertake, And careful seaman strives his course to gauge By compass which his eye may ne'er forsake: So is it fitting that at times we cast Our studious eyes upon the road we've trod, And note the mercies that have blest the past, And even the trials wisely sent by God. 14 IFiaomi anb 1Rutb, This world a school is, in which all are taught Trust in high Heaven and work to bless mankind ; And he has lived the best who still has sought His highest pleasure in such work to find. But I, alas ! have often proved untrue To such high ends and aims in human life, Too often have I failed to keep in view What would sustain me in the arduous strife. But why, when life is not yet wholly spent, Repine in idle mood for wasted hours ? Far better try to bring old age content, Adorned with glorious deeds like blooming flowers. Oh ! to be true to all our God-given powers ! To take occasion promptly by the hand ; To fill with generous deeds the passing hours, And sow some seeds of blessing in the land ! Thus might we hope a life on earth to lead, Like that, in measure, of the Spotless One A life ennobled by good word and deed, And greeted at the last with Heaven's "Well done!" NAOMI AND RUTH. R Moab's verdant fields 2^3) Three females take their way ; Fair Nature's face no pleasure yields, For mourners sad are they. IFlaomi anb 1Rutb, What means their garb of woe ? Why silent pass they on ? What sorrow clouds their faces so, Each ray of sunshine gone ? Ah ! mark that aged form, The eldest of the three ; Like tree blown leafless by the storm, Husband nor child has she. From Judah's sacred land They came in quest of bread, But death, with fell destroying hand, Husband and sons struck dead. With heavy heart she goes Again to Judah's land ; Her widowed daughters share her woes, And walk on either hand. And now she turns her round And heaves a deep-drawn sigh, While fast the tears fall to the ground From sorrow's darkened eye. " Back ! back ! ye daughters fair ! " With loving look she said " Back to your fathers' halls repair, Nor weep ye for the dead. " May Jacob's God outpour Choice blessings on your head ; May He deal kindness evermore, As ye dealt with the dead ! " 16 IRaomi anfc 1Rutb. Her aged arms around Each youthful neck she threw, And nought is heard save sorrow's sound, While tears the grass bedew. A fond adieu and then Orpah her steps withdrew, To mingle with her friends again, And kindred's love renew. But no entreaty moved The steadfast heart of Ruth, To leave the aged one she loved For earlier friends of youth. Bright shone her full black eye As earnestly she said " With thee I live, with thee I die ; Be famished, or be fed. " Thy people shall be mine, Thy God I will adore ; My love for thee shall ne'er decline, But live for evermore. " The Lord be witness true To what His handmaid saith, That nought shall ever part us two But the strong arm of death ! " H Bream* 17 A DREAM. E balmy summer afternoon hHL*/ Jfc About the latter end of June, - IH^***^ fi As soon as I had amply dined, ^ krft(*L U^L <**3 ^ Soft on my sofa I reclined, Lr knlj IH*~J -t**jf-J Clear studded with the gems it bore, 4 r4d* d k^ **' ^*to Which ever 'gainst bright Cynthia's face *lv. Ar**j X* * Reflected back their beauteous grace. J j^jj-fa^ He grasped a sceptre in his hand (L, , f His devious motions to command ^ -. For where he willed his car to go ^^^j( It sped, like arrow from the bow :&*> \t t*M~ n*t - Its course to me alone it bent. j* D o^ > In dreamland, though a crowd be dense, c Ourselves get extra prominence^ * For should a wild boar be the theme Of your disordered morbid dream, a All other folk he passes by u^LLst^qfi* A** His hungry fangs on you to try;cu Or should a madman wreak his wrath^n/ Tis only j^ stands in his path -^ kvivf Or should a building tumble down, {t ' t fcvw ^/ Ar>**< It falls on^wr devoted Soon as it hovered o'er my head, Its aged occupant thus said : " Mount, son of earth ! ascend my car, o^> Speed through the air, like shooting star, And reach a spot where friends reside, ^ On island washed by silvery tide.te> ^ **^ L AW^ Then, swift, ere I could say him no, His hand he darted right below, a3 And in his cage my body threw, akt And with his prey away he flew. But how shall I each sight declare ^ *"* That I beheld in ambient air ? . At first we gently rose on high, But only midway in the sky, 20 H Dream. Ancl oft from giddy height looked down On glassy lake and populous town, On jutting peak and crested hill, On surging sea and rippling rill. On, and still on our course we bent On that mysterious voyage sent : O'er wooded mountains, fertile fields, Where Nature all her bounty yields, O'er many a tract of arid sand, O'er many a fair and golden strand, O''er many a land with people strange, O'er Alps and Himalayan range ; O'er country, ocean, continent, With whirling speed we onward went ; Even the bold eagles, in their flight, We passed, and left far out of sight : Still on we sped, still on we flew, Till earth's dim outline fainter grew, At last, in heights of ether blue, All earthly things were lost to view. Now was I seized with pale affright, And all my courage left me quite ; Fast bounding through the realms of space, With unknown dangers yet to face, At mercy of my hoary guide, Who explanation still denied : All reticent he would remain ; A smile was all that I could gain. H H)ream. 21 So great a height did we attain, We enter now the moon's domain : And here my guide was pleased to see What seemed to be his own country. Round on all sides the golden light Made all things fair that met my sight, And people walked the genial soil As if unused to care and toil ; For Nature with no stinted hand Bestows her bounties o'er the land. The people know not strife or war, But all in peace and concord are : The nature of each avocation Escaped my careful observation ; But still from all that met my eyes It seemed a perfect paradise. Ere far we traversed o'er the land My guide received the king's command, Which stately heralds swiftly bore, While yet we verged upon the shore, To drop on island of the sea, And set his human captive free. Swift at his will our brave balloon Left the fair regions of the moon ; From 'midst the brilliant lunar ray, Beneath the clustering milky way, Where silvery light strikes out afar From many a radiant sparkling star, 22 H Dream* Where fell upon our raptured ears The tuneful music of the spheres ; Prone towards earth we now descend, And hope our journey nears its end. Midst waters stretching far away, Full many a verdant island lay, Studding like gems the waters blue, Spread on all sides till lost to view. To one of these at length we sped, On whose fair bosom Nature spread All that was beautiful and fair Whate'er the heart could wish was there Fruits of a brilliant golden hue On shady trees luxuriant grew ; Cool waters poured their crystal stream From rocky eminence and seam ; The emerald fields refreshed the eye, And perfumed zephyrs floated by ; Birds of bright plumage passing fair, Like winged flowers shot through the air, And vocal made the groves around With notes of sweetest liquid sound : The soil's fair undulating breast Prolific with all flowers was dressed, And yielded without toil or care Supplies to feed the people there. Soon as our cage had touched its strand, I left it at my guide's command, H H>ream, 23 And slowly, as I raised my eye, Nor guide nor car could I espy : At once, with speed beyond compare, They shot right upward through the air : They vanished faster from the sight Than did Armida's palace bright, Which captive held the Christian knight, Ensnared from bold crusader's fight. And now, o'ercome by sleep profound, I prostrate lay upon the ground, And, giddy with my rapid motion Accomplished over earth and ocean, I slumbering dozed for many an hour, Through Morpheus' soporific power. At length, refreshed, my slumbers broke, And soon to consciousness I woke. Spread out before me I espied The beauteous landscape opening wide, Where meadows lay on either hand, And rivers fertilised the land ; Where balmy fragrance filled the air, Borne from sweet Nature's bosom fair, On which no clouds portentous gloomed, But fadeless flowers for ever bloomed. There fell upon my raptured ear Enchanting music sweet and clear 24 H Bream* Sweet in its plaintive tones so low, Sweet as when zephyrs gently blow. The authors of the pensive strains Were seated on the verdant plains ; A thoughtful, tranquil band they seemed, And from their eyes they welcome gleamed. Encouraged thus, I forward went, And straight their friendly hands they lent To grasp my own in kindly token Of friendly feelings yet unspoken. Their features full within my view, The well-known forms at once I knew. Right glad was I to meet once more Old friends who long had gone before ; They, on their part, the pleasure shared, And asked how old-time friends had fared. As one who long in many a land Hath wandered from his native strand, His home revisited, has found Old friends, warm-hearted, press around, And grasp his hand with tear-dimmed eye, His heart too full to make reply : So was it with me when the crowd Of former friends saluted loud One whom they ne'er had hoped to see In mortal guise in their country. H Bream* 25 When all details I had revealed, One of the group his lips unsealed. A figure tall he stately reared, And age's work but slight appeared. He seemed of native dignity, And smiled with grave benignity. As fittest for their government, He ruled by tacit, free consent, Nor once abused his regal power, But happy made each passing hour. A chain of amaranthine flowers, Plucked fragrant from the vernal bowers, Hung pendant from his kingly neck, Gracing his person circumspect. His sceptred hand but idle lay, Where all were willing to obey ; And as my eyes beheld him now, A diadem adorned his brow. Though many years had come and gone Since last his face I looked upon, It seemed to me but yesterday That from the earth he passed away, So fresh his memory seemed to be From my remotest infancy. In language generous and kind He thus to me revealed his mind : " O ! wanderer in the land of Nod, Thrice welcome to our blest abode ! 26 H Dream, Let not thy visit be in vain, But knowledge here make sure to gain ; Now lend me an attentive ear While seeming mystery I clear, And when your native shores you find, Proclaim it loud to all mankind. " On the blue bosom of the main, Where Neptune holds his watery reign, Are scattered wide on every hand These islands with their silvery strand. A numerous host, they stretch afar; Their size and climate varied are. Each small community of old The limits of one island hold, And there, to suit each varied taste, Congenial groups are fitly placed. There range at will, with thoughts elate, Old rulers of the Burghal state, Old ministers and magistrates Who office held at different dates, Town Councillors, and all the trades, Towns-people of all ranks and grades. " Here in these verdant happy plains, Free from whate'er the bosom pains, Behold thy townsfolk who of yore Dwelt by the classic Bladnoch's shore. Here are we happy at our ease ; The beauteous scene ne'er fails to please. H Bream* " Now, kinsman, mark what I command When thou returnest to the land Of consciousness be sure to tell Of all that unto thee befell Whilst for a little thou hast trod The wide-extended realms of Nod. Enumerate with loving care The old-time friends who met thee there ; And see that thou no name withhold Of one who lived with thee of old : Recount with care the loyal host Whose love for Wigtown ne'er was lost, And who shall still its fame defend, And love its memory to the end. " Now emulate old Homer's task, By doing well what now we ask : As of his ships he told the number, Let not of us the memory slumber : Tell of us all, and what the cause That made each worthy what he was : Hide nothing in your true description To do aught else would be deception. Ne'er heed what cold descendants think r Who, over-sensitive, may shrink From that which most we do desire, And prove most worthy of just ire; For 'tis a most enormous pity That that which wise men hold as witty 28 H Dream. Should be discarded by false friends As that which to disgrace them tends. Philosophers have always held (And with the thought their bosoms swelled) The wit and humour we possessed Are faculties the very best. As long's the story's kindly told Some playful sally to unfold, No harm is meant nor should offence Be taken on such slight pretence. Too oft in judging fellow-man Poor mortals but the surface scan ; But when the final verdict's past Some shall be first that now are last." Soon as I signified assent, My sage adviser onward went : " The ancient Burgh where you dwell, As musty records well can tell, Is one which loyal was and true Eclipsed by none, approached by few. There Wallace wight, with vengeful sword, The minions chased of England's lord; And Bruce's name entwined shall be With Brunthouse Brae and Moss of Cree : Then, brightest memory of the past ! Your Martyrs' names for aye shall last. H Bream. Long as the Bladnoch's billows ride To swell the might of Solway's tide ; Long as the pure crystalline rill Shall glide down Wigtown's verdant hill ; Long as on giant Cairnsmore's crest The fleecy cloud shall love to rest So long shall fond descendants' save Thy Martyrs' memory from the grave ! 'Tis well that from a loyal heart Such memories should ne'er depart, And that their influence benign To imitation should incline. " But, speaking as the friend of all, Note well the words I now let fall, And when on earth thou sett'st thy feet Be sure these words that thou repeat : " In noble action spend your life, Avoiding all unseemly strife ; For why should folks in your old Burgh By speech or deed cause any sorrow ? Set free from earth, the people here From unbecoming feuds keep clear, And find their purest satisfaction In kindly word and kindly action ; For mortals are but slow to learn That Heaven's approval they may earn 30 H Bream. When Self is checked and all its brood, And all work for the general good. " Now, ere your steps you homeward bend To these, my parting words, attend : Say to your townsmen we expect Their duties they will ne'er neglect : Though some be high and others low, Let loving-kindness 'mong them flow. Let no disloyal strife be bred On that dear soil we once did tread ; Whate'er tends to the Burgh's weal Enhances much the joy we feel ; And if we could but taste a sorrow 'T would be when ill befell the Burgh. " Live, then, in bonds of kindly love, And Heaven will bless ye from above ; Live Wigtown thus, the dear old town, Which in the past has won renown Ne'er may her various classes jar, Or aught her steady progress mar ; May worthy Provosts, Councillors sage Her fortunes lead from age to age ; Her trade still prosper, and her sons Bear off the prize which merit wons; Each burgess for all good works ready ; Her labouring classes thrifty, steady; H Bream* si Her matrons quick to woman's duty ; Her virtuous damsels queens of beauty ; Her children in all games rejoice, And cheer her streets with merry noise ; Crowned above all, the fear of God Shall make her tread a prosperous road : So shall ye prove the motto well, Inscribed upon your old town bell : When piety ye fondly nourish Then, only then, shall Wigtown flourish." Soon as his reverend head he hung, And silent was his silvery tongue, The rest who had assembled there Approving shouts sent to the air ; And all seemed pleased he had expressed The thoughts that laboured in their breast. For long the sage's words profound Rung in my ears with potent sound. Soon as the applause had died away, With faltering tongue I did essay To frame response to what I heard From one who stirred my deep regard : " Oh, father of our Burghal state, Fear not but I shall true relate To fellow-townsmen your advice, So seasonable and so wise. 32 H Dream* For ever in all future time This vision of thy peaceful clime Shall live with me, and never fade, Nor shall the words which thou hast said. " Adieu ! ye bright delightful bowers, Great contrast to the scene that's ours ; Long may the tenants of this isle Repose in peace from care and toil ; Enjoy its calm, devoid of strife, The prize which crowns a virtuous life." And now, from some internal motion, I felt I must retrace the ocean, And gain the spot so dear to all, Should no unlucky chance befall. Methought I then prepared to start, While sorrow moved my swelling heart, And often did I vainly try To brush the big tear from my eye ; For sweet I thought it was to stay 'Mong scenes that so resplendent lay; Unlike the toiling lot of man That fills his short-lived earthly span. But soon I checked the new-born thought, As one of discontent begot ; And firm resolved, midst honest toil, To lighten labour with a smile. Brttberboob o' /Ifcaru 33 And now, as quick I wheeled around, In hope of egress to be found, My action, suited to the thought, To grief a pile of dishes brought :. The noise dispelled what truth did seem, And showed me all was but a Dream ! THE BRITHERHOOD O' MAN. E'RE leevin' in a world o' care, Where groans o' sorrow fill the air ; The bitter wrongs that some endure Seem almost tae defy a cure. Yet 'midst the evils o' oor race Nae sophistry can e'er efface That glorious truth that aye shall stan' The precious britherhood o' man. When England rose in a' her micht The wrangs o' dooncast slaves tae richt, Say, was not that a glorious deed That thoosan's o' oor brethren freed ? That noble act on Hist'ry's page Shall aye endure frae age tae age. We stamped the evil wi' oor ban, And helped the britherhood o' man. c 34 Ube Britberboofc o' /Ifcan. We're sometimes tempted tae forget That maist things great ha'e ever yet Been come at slowly, by degrees, Like coral reefs aneath the seas. But let us, as we find the chance Use every effort tae advance The interests o' the general plan The loving britherhood o' man. We may dae much for yin anither, An' tae reclaim a fallen brither, Ne'er looking doon upon mankind, Though e'er sae much tae vice inclined ; For wha kens but a kindly word May keener prove than keenest sword Tae reach the heart an' bring near han* The langed-for britherhood o' man ? It may be little we can do, But if our hearts be kind an' true, We'll strive tae dae that little weel As we for ithers' sorrows feel. What though it be a little matter, Say, only just a cup o ; water ? Ne'er mind ; ye're doin' a' ye can Tae speed the britherhood o' man. A kindly han' placed on the head, May wauken guid thochts almost dead ZTbe Brttberboofc o' flDan, 35 Thochts that a pious mither's care Had planted wi' a mither's prayer That they might germinate an' grow, An' guide her loved one here below. Alas ! that vice, in life's brief span, Should thwart the britherhood o' man ! The social problem o' the day Is hoo we can a' strife allay Between the gentry an' the masses The "upper ten," an' working classes; An* I am sure the perfect cure O' feuds between the rich an' poor, Is a' tae work wi' heart an' han' Tae speed the britherhood o' man. Oh ! haste the time by poets sung When sword an' buckler shall be flung Aside, replaced by reaping hook, By olive-wand an' shepherd's crook : When wrong shall vanish frae oor land, An' mankind a' thegither band, An' rulers, leading in the van, Haud up the britherhood o' man. An' that such times may soon appear Let brethren in each varied sphere Tak' yin anither by the hand An' stand a weel-united band ; 36 ube Britberfooofc o' For never shall the world be freed Frae wrangs that mak' puir hearts tae bleed, Unless man, woman, child, we stan' An' hail the britherhood o' man. In Nature's works there meet the e'e Things heich an' laich, things great an' wee ; An' sae in mankind's social state Some will be poor an' ithers great In usefu' wark the rich may give That which will help the poor tae live : It seems Heaven's weel-appointed plan, An' aids the britherhood o' man. Why should a gulf aye stan' between Those who each ither should befrien' The rich man an' his humbler brither As if they kentna yin anither ? Prick each yin's veins, an' ye will see The same blood coursing pure an' free As yinst through Father Adam ran, Which proves the britherhood o' man. We'll toil an' work frae day to day, An' never heed what sophists say, Believing that the time shall come When Peace on earth shall have her home ; When angry passions, war's fierce strife, The poison cup, an' murderer's knife, Shall a' be things laid under ban We'll have the britherhood o' man ! o* Calfcerba', 3? THE MAID O' CALDERHA'. f'VE seen the world in varying mood p An' shared the ups and doons o' life \Mu*+tl) *L*r rf* I've braved the angry ocean's waves ,>A**J An' stood the land-storm's fiercest strife \4+ Jw* * * t\M**& But still amidst the various ills '^M That on my head might fiercely fa/ My guiding star my anchor sure > Was my sweet Maid o' CalderhaVj^ &Jc ^ >+ ^ I've trod the lordly mansion-ha', An' mingled wi' the fairest belles ; But nane, I ween, could equal Jean Wha's love my ardent bosom swells. Though lovely be her fairy form An' lovelier never mortal saw 'Tis not more lovely than her mind, My peerless Maid o' Calderha'. Dear maid ! whose faultless face an' form Reveal the guileless soul within, Well might thy sweet resistless charms An easy vict'ry o'er me win. Not moss-rose in the dewy morn, Nor purest flakes o' downy snaw, Can rival Nature's fairest form In lovely Jean o' Calderha'. 38 ube /Ifcaifc o' Galfcerba'. She needs no graces save her own, An' spurns all artificial aid ; No tinsel mars the beauteous work That Nature's hand alone hath made. Her mind, well stored with virtuous lore, Mute reverence an' attention draw : Oh ! would more maidens of the land Were like the Maid o' Calderha'. I've seen the rosy-fingered morn Point hopeful to a glorious day, But ere the sun the zenith reached The faithless hope had passed away. So have I seen the calmest sea Turn mad with rage when winds would blaw ; But ne'er can she inconstant be, My faithful Maid o' Calderha'. Blest be the power o' faithfu' love, The love that's pure as pure can be : But for its influence on my soul This world wad barren be tae me. Midst the vicissitudes o' life, Howe'er Dame Fortune kicked the ba' T My heart aye winged its flight tae thee, Thou much-loved Maid o' Calderha'. I've seen the dark-eyed maids o' France, An' darker eyes o' Italy, Ube /iDatb o' Calfcerba'. 39 The maids o' England weel may please, An' Irish girls talk wittily ; But nane tae me could pleasure gie Like her wha doth eclipse them a' My airtless, guileless, Scottish maid My ain sweet Jean o' Calderha'. Oh ! sweet tae me the early morn, When bright Aurora gilds the sky ; An' sweet the lark's full flood o' sang As up tae heaven he soars on high. But sweeter than the sang o' lark, Fairer than morn, though buskit braw, The soft-toned voice an' maiden charms O' my sweet Lass o' Calderha'. Her Parian brow an' gouden hair, Her eye more mild than the gazelle's, Her tapering form, and queenly gait Show how she ither maids excels. Wi' heartfelt sympathy she sighs For sorrow, an' her tear-drops fa' Whene'er a doleful tale she hears, The gentle Maid o' Calderha'. Oh ! beauteous maid, whom I adore, Responsive yield me love for love ; Let tender pity for my sake Thy heaving bosom gently move. 40 Wigtown Uoon. Then may I hope to see the day, To me the happiest e'er I saw, When this fond heart shall join wi' thine, My beauteous Jean o' Calderha'. WIGTOWN TOON. (Many of the following verses were recited at a Local concert.) flJID evening, dear neebours o' Wigtown toon, As weel as the rest frae the country aroun* ! Dae ye min' the last year, Hoo each ither tae cheer, We a' gathered in here Oot o' Wigtown toon? Noo, here we're again met in Wigtown toon ; I hope that yer health is baith siccar and soun'; An' I ken ye will bear, While mysel' I prepare, Tae read some verses mair, Aboot Wigtown toon. It's a gey ancient place is this Wigtown toon ; It's been said that the wig frae ane auld man's croon Was blawn by the wun, An' there was some guid fun Ere the wig stood its grim' At this Wigtown toon. Wigtown /Soon, 41 An' hence it is said that this Wigtown toon Was ca'd "Wig," and then "town," when the local typhoon Carried aff the auld wig, Sae neat and sae trig, That gaed dancing a jig At this Wigtown toon. Ithers say, wi' mair sense, that this Wigtown toon Was named by some desperate sea-roving loon "The toon on the Hill," Whaur he skirmished his fill, An' robb'd baith guid an ill Aboot Wigtown toon. We yinst had a Castle at Wigtown toon ; When Wallace tae Cruggleton fortress cam' doon, The Englishmen here, In the midst o' their cheer, Cut their stick for pure fear Oot o' Wigtown toon. They say Edward Bruce cam' tae Wigtown toon When^the Bishop o' Whithorn tae " Langshanks" gaed roun'; But he sprang tae his saddle, An' offered nae twaddle, Bruce made him skedaddle Frae Wigtown toon. 42 A monastery yinst stood at Wigtown toon, Its site the Bell-yett Stan's a wee bit aboon : 'Twas a braw lordly hoose, Whaur the monks leeved sae crouse, An' had a' things in use Here in Wigtown toon. The monks leeved like princes at Wigtown toon, They seemed to be born wi' the famed siller spoon ; Auld records declare They had finest o' fare, An' plenty tae spare Here in Wigtown toon. King Jamie has put up in Wigtown toon : When frae Stirling he cam' in the late afternoon, In the days o' langsyne, As he did incline, Tae Saint Ninian's shrine Below Wigtown toon. When his Majesty tarried in Wigtown toon He got frae oor Pipers a braw loyal tune ; Their drones they weel squeezed, An' the King was weel pleased, An' the Pipers' loofs greased Here in Wigtown toon. 43 We yinst had five Martyrs in Wigtown toon ; Long may their dear memory be handed doon Frae faither tae son, Till the ages have run, For the victory they won Here in Wigtown toon ! Tae the bed o' the river at Wigtown toon The Government's tools led the twa women doon Tae suffer an' die For Christ's crown on high In the Bladnoch so nigh Here tae Wigtown toon. There were three brave men-Martyrs in Wigtown toon, Wha were brocht frae the neebourin' parishes roun' ; They were hanged in a trice, f**- b~ ^f . On a tissue o' lies, " j^' &, >~f<"~ tf "T An' without an assize fccc, ^***^ *~*~ Here in Wigtown toon. Oh ! sair was their struggle in Wigtown toon For freedom o' conscience, that priceless boon : Frae their hames they were driven ; O' their lives they were riven : They were "chased up tae heaven" Oot o' Wigtown toon ! 44 Motown zroon. Aye green be the mem'ry in Wigtown toon O' these five noble Martyrs, noo reigning aboon ! Oh ! say shall we barter The Truth's glorious charter As won by the Martyr In Wigtown toon ? Excuse me, dear neebours in Wigtown toon, If I seem tae get warm, an' maist crazed i' the croon, When I speak o' that band In oor dear native land An' o' their bold stand Here in Wigtown toon. For it's guid for the true folks o' Wigtown toon Tae be stirred up, like them, tae despise the world's froon, An' in this loose age, When the Infidels rage, 'Gainst them war tae wage Here in Wigtown toon. They say that Burns yinst passed through Wigtown toon When serving as guager under the Croon ; That the officer here An' he had some cheer, But that wasna queer, Though in Wigtown toon. Uoon, 45 We've a braw wee bit Square here in Wigtown toon On a spot that was yinst desolation a' roun', Whaur ducks, swine, an' geese Might roam as they please, An' luxuriate at ease Here in Wigtown toon. When Cripple Dick visited Wigtown toon, As Sawnie an' he raid the country roun', They perhaps changed their soo Whaur the Square Stan's the noo, An 3 set aff tae buy 'oo Oot o' Wigtown toon. What a nice Market Cross there's in Wigtown toon ; On its auld-fashioned brither it proodly looks doon ; It's no Waterloo Caused the date on its broo ; That's its age it tells you Here in Wigtown toon. But the auld Pillar Cross here in Wigtown toon Is weel worth preserving frae damaging stoun' ; It's a specimen fine, O' its auld warl' kin' ; It's unique in its line Here in Wigtown toon. 46 Wigtown Uoon. The Stan'ing Stanes lie west frae Wigtown toon ; Though their value I'm no much inclined tae lampoon, Yet what, efter a', What we stan'ing stanes ca', Were set up nowt tae claw Near tae Wigtown toon ? O' the stanes that stan' twa miles frae Wigtown toon Some think that the Druids a circle made roun'; An' ithers hae tauld us That there oor king Galdus Beat Rome that near maul'd us Near Wigtown toon. We're quate decent bodies in Wigtown toon, No gi'en tae climb up an' knock ither folk doon ; We leeve a' sae quate, Sae douce an' sedate, Baith wee folk an' great, Here in Wigtown toon. But hark ! we've got lawyers in Wigtown toon, An' the coort bell jows weekly wi' deafening soun', It's maybe the law That hauds a' folks in awe, An' keeps lood brawls awa' Here in Wigtown toon. Wigtown Uoon. 47 We're aye a' sae happy in Wigtown toon, An' its fine bracing air keeps us healthy an' soun' ; We're as nappy's Queen Vic., An' dull care cuts his stick, Yes, the hale rick-ma-tick Here in Wigtown toon. 'Twas a sorrowfu' day when poor Wigtown toon Lost the free salmon fishing that proved sic a boon Tae the puir fisher-folk, Wi' their stake net and poke; 'Deed that was na joke, Frien's, tae Wigtown toon. We have musical talent in Wigtown toon ; For that we can judges completely astoun' ; An' in solos an' glees, Cock yer lugs, if you please, Gie yer head a bit heeze For auld Wigtown toon. We hae braw bonnie lasses in Wigtown toon, Wha for beauty can rival the roses in June; Sae jaunty an' croose, Sae dressy an' spruce, Sae wise-like an' douce Tae, in Wigtown toon. 48 Wigtown There's the genus Bachelor in Wigtown toon, Alas ! for tae say it maist makes me break doon ; Tae think there's galore O' sic lasses in store, An' they canna adore Them in Wigtown toon ! We should banish the Bachelors frae Wigtown toon Wha carve wi' yae knife an' sup wi' yae spoon, They think a' folk asses That praise up the lasses, Though sweet as molasses In Wigtown toon. Ye c'auldrife auld Bachelors o' Wigtown toon, Know ye that a wife tae her man is a croon ; True pleasure ye'll lack Till yer rib ye get back ; 'Deed yer no worth a plack Here in Wigtown toon. The best social lever in Wigtown toon Is the family circle, wi' olive-plants roun' ; Gross pleesures ha'e stings, But the name-circle brings Joys purer than kings', Even in Wigtown toon. Wigtown Uoom 49 Oh! fair Stan's the hill that supports Wigtown toon, An' the prospect it opens has won much renoun ; But a wife's sparkling e'e, An' a bairn on yer knee, Eclipse a' ye see Aroon Wigtown toon. Alack ! we've auld Maidens in Wigtown toon, But it's no their ain fau't, I could wager a croon, That they're leevin' their lane, Tae pech an' tae grane, Withoot man or wean Here in Wigtown toon. We ha'e kind-hearted folk here in Wigtown toon : Let the han' o' Misfortune but press a man doon, Or a hame lose its head, An' wee bairns cry for bread, An' see hoo we'll aid Them in Wigtown toon. We ha'e Blue Ribbon sogers in Wigtown toon, That again' the drap drink fecht like valiant Mahoun ; They're determined tae stick at Nae trifles tae kick at Baith barrel an' spicket In Wigtown toon. D 50 Wigtown There's an Oddfellows' Lodge tae in Wigtown toon ; But why they're ca'd Odd ye'll no learn at Rangoon : Should a brither be sick, They'll no gie him the kick, But they'll help him richt quick Here in Wigtown toon. Quite near tae the suburbs o' Wigtown toon Stan's Bladnoch, the pride o' the villages roun' ; There are thriving trades there, An' its daughters are fair, Gang an' ask them tae pair, Lads frae Wigtown toon. Fair lasses come driving tae Wigtown toon Resplendent in beauty frae farm-hoose aroun'; Fair fa' their nice faces, Sae smiling wi' graces, Like sweet modest daisies, Near Wigtown toon, There's a guid Cattle Show held in Wigtown toon, In the interests o' farming it proves quite a boon ; Fine beasts crood the groun', And when leaping's begun, Oh ! then there's rare fun Here in Wigtown toon. Wigtown Uoom 51 What a hullaballoo is in Wigtown toon On the Cattle Show day when the country folks roun' Come a' pourin' in, Mid confusion an' din Some folk almost rin Intae Wigtown toon. That's a red-letter day for auld Wigtown toon, The biggest it sees frae ilk July tae June ; An' the sweetie-wives' Stan's May be seen on a' han's, Wi' packmen or ban's, Here in Wigtown toon. New-Year's weel observed here in Wigtown toon ; The ban' cheers the haill o' the streets roun' an' roun' An' wi* sports left an' richt, An' a concert at nicht, It's a gey happy sicht, Boys, in Wigtown toon. We've a literature tae in this auld Wigtown toon, Tae show we ha'e brains 'neath the skin o' oor croon ; We ha'e plenty o' mense, Dauds o' lair an' guid sense, Without much pretence Here in Wigtown toon. 52 TPdi^town Uoon, There are lads ha'e gone forth oot o' Wigtown toon Tae a' countries shone on by the licht o' the moon ; They ha'e proved nae disgrace Tae their ain native place, An' a sicht o' their face Cheers auld Wigtown toon. Waes me ! but I'm sad here in Wigtown toon, [croon : When I think what's ta'en place since I scratched a young Whaur are the kent forms That stood sunshine an' storms In the toon an' roun' farms Aboot Wigtown toon ? Whaur's auld Davie Eadie o' Wigtown toon ? Dear me ! but his cantrips gied pleasure a' roun' : If yer e'en ye wad fix On his wee bits o' sticks, Through his legs he'd play tricks Here in Wigtown toon. His " Kirkcudbright laugh" gi'en in Wigtown toon, Was heard by the neebors in wild eldritch soun' ; When on his death-bed, " Me gaun hame," he said, An' his vital spark fled Oot o' Wigtown toon. Wigtown troom 53 There was also Bob Irving in Wigtown toon ; Noo, whiles Bob waxed wroth, an' looked awfully broon ; But the fau't was the boys', For it heichened their joys Tae work him some ploys Here in Wigtown toon. An' wee Patie Clachlan o' Wigtown toon, A cankered auld carle, wi' Balmoral on croon ; When his bagpipes he'd twirl, Each boy an' each girl Wad rejoice at the skirl Here in Wigtown toon. Then there was Dick M'Gibbony in Wigtown toon, An' wi' the toon-bell Roger Croney gaed roun' ; There was Hughie O'Hale An' Biddy O'Nale Baith female an' male Here in Wigtown toon. Noo, freens, pay attention in Wigtown toon ; There's nocht that will keep a contentious noise doon Like joining thegither, As sister an' brither, Tae help yin anither ^ In Wigtown to^n. 54 Wigtown uoon. There are wee modest hillocks near Wigtown toon, An' mountains that seem tae spiel up tae the moon ; An' though, as ye see, . Some are big an' some wee, Yet they a' please the e'e Aroun' Wigtown toon. When the sweet summer-time visits Wigtown toon, An' yer cheek is fanned cool by the zephyrs o' June, The wee purling rill An' the flood frae the hill Yield pleesure yer fill Aroun' Wigtown toon. In the silvery Bladnoch at Wigtown toon, That laves the green verdure o' classic Baldoon, Big salmon will soom Wi' wee trouts like yer thoom, An' for a' there is room Near tae Wigtown toon. In the fresh grassy fields that surround Wigtown toon Ye'll see brave lordly Galloways grazing aroun' ; But there's also the lamb, Wi' its auld wakefu' dam, An' they nibble quite calm Near tae Wigtown town. Wigtown noon* 55 Then join han'-in-han', freens in Wigtown toon, Let a' things unchristian be clean trampled doon ; Since we'll no be lang here, It wad look unco queer Tae be stiff an' austere Here in Wigtown toon. Be pleasant an' kin' here in Wigtown toon, An' try tae bring joy tae the heart oot o' tune ; Though it's only a smile, Yet it's weel worth yer while, It may some care beguile Here in Wigtown toon. Why should not a ; classes in Wigtown toon, As yae loving britherhood gather aroun', In this stately ha', If a concert befa', " John Tamson's bairns a','' Here in Wigtown toon ? We hope aften tae meet sae in Wigtown toon, An' aye let oor doings sweet innocence croon, An' we'll never regret That thus we ha'e met Pure pleasure tae get Here in Wigtown toon. 56 Wben 5 was but Let us hope that mony frae Wigtown toon Will meet in oor Great Father's mansion aboon, An' join wi' pure zest, In that sweet land o' rest, In the sangs o' the blest, Far frae Wigtown toon ! WHEN I WAS BUT WEE. HEN I was but wee an' whiles owned a bawbee, Like ither wee laddies, my heart leaped for joy, An' mony a plan through my wee headie ran, An' I swithered tae spend't on a scone or a toy. When I was but wee, an' was buoyant wi' glee, Like ither wee laddies, I ne'er had a care ; An' the day was ower short for my frolicsome sport, As I revelled in fun in the free open air. When I was but wee, an' the tear blinn'd my e'e, Like ither wee laddies, as some ill befell, I'd rin hame tae Grannie, my best freen o' any, Wha pitied my woes as my tale I wad tell. When I was but wee it was no ill tae see, Like ither wee laddies, my belly got toom, An' this kindly auld Grannie, sae ready an' hanny, Wad spread bread an' butter tae me wi' her thoom. 3 was but Wee, 57 I'm noo young nae mair, but I truly declare, Wi' ither wee lads that ha'e grown up wi' me, That nae luxuries rare could for sweetness compare Tae the morsel I ate at my auld Grannie's knee. When I was but wee, though I ne'er was at sea, Like ither wee laddies, I owned quite a fleet O' wee boats o' ilk rig smack, schooner, and brig, [feet. An' the inks where they voyaged scarce drooned my bare When I was but wee, I ha'e cast up my e'e, Like ither wee lads, tae the star-spangled sky, An' felt almost lost amid sic a host, An' in childish humility almost could cry. When I was but wee, I delighted tae see, Like ither wee laddies, a circus or show ; An' when Ord cam' aboot, my ! the hail toon turned oot Tae see the brave horseman, an' hoo he could go. When I was but wee, I whiles couldna agree, Like ither wee laddies, wi' schoolmate or chum ; But we soon made it up in the crack o' a whup, An' drew a' the better in days still tae come. When I was but wee, ye'd hae lauched lood tae see How I kicked an' rebelled tae be sent tae the school; But at last I gave in, for I sune cam' tae fin' That wi' ither wee boys tae get lair was the rule. Wfoen 5 was but Wee* When I was but wee, the way they fed me, Like ither wee lads, was wi' parritch an' milk ; But noo oor wee chaps maun drink tea tae their baps, Though sic food mak's them dowie, an' no worth a wilk. When I was but wee, lads an' lasses ye'd see Reading books wi' some pith an' dauds o' guid sense ; But noo, I'm afraid, the same cannot be said, An' that reading sensational picks up their pence. When I was but wee, things in keeping ye'd see ; The boys didna try tae be men juist ower soon ; In things worthy the lads imitated their dads, An' matured wi' their growth, slow but sure, i' the croon. When I was but wee, I micht whiles gang ajee, Like ither wee lads, frae the thing that was richt, But the auld pair o' tawse cured my sad moral flaws, Laid on whaur it wadna endanger my sicht. I believe in auld lickings, midst yellings an' kickings ; They proved a success, an' were looked on wi' dread ; But noo a bit cuff parents think quite enough Tae drive folly oot o' a senseless young head. When I was but wee, doucely dressed folk ye'd see, Wha's claes were for use, an' no put on for show ; But now, I declare, sic a sicht is but rare Tae see folk gaun dressed as they used long ago. Wben 5 was but Wee, 59 Michtna ladies juist try in their station on high Tae their humbler sisters a lesson tae give, Dressing neat but not gaudy, for comfort o' body? For woman has more than for mere dress tae live. When I was but wee, real kindness ye'd see 'Mang neebours in Wigtown on every han' roun' ; Ye wad thocht for a fact, that in word an' in act They were a' freens throughither in auld Wigtown toon. When I was but wee, I had faith aye tae see The Word o' the Lord tae be certain an' sure, An' still tae this day, though some scoffers gainsay, I believe that the child's faith is sterling an' pure. Ye'll fin' it's aye best, in this age o' unrest, Tae cling tae yer childhood's undoubting belief; 'Tis a legacy given by oor Father in heaven, An' it saves us frae much that wad bring us tae grief. When I was but wee, I could lift up my e'e Tae my Father on high, an' feel safe in His care ; Sae when I am auld " second childhood " it's called I'll trust Him tae tak' me, when here I'm nae mair. Wigtown /iDartprs* /iDonument LINES SUGGESTED BY A VISIT TO WIGTOWN MARTYRS' MONUMENT. I pensive stand On this rising land, By the Martyrs' pillar high, My thoughts go back To the stake and rack In " the killing times " gone by ; And there rise to view All the godless crew Who laid poor Scotland waste In the days of yore May she never more Have another such cup to taste ! From my lofty stand I can well command The scene of the Martyrdom, Where the stakes once stood In the Bladnoch flood That hurried its victims home. TOt^town /IDartsrs' jflfeonument We honour their name, And the heavenly flame That burned in their bosom bright, And pray that their heirs May with zeal like theirs Stand up for the good and right. May we never yield, In our battle-field, In the war of Right against Wrong ; For God will uphold The true and the bold, Encased in his panoply strong. In every age There is war to wage With the forces of Hell and Earth ; And the hosts of God Still onward must plod, Giving proof of their heavenly birth. We have subtler foes In our time to oppose Than those of our fathers' age The doubting fear And the learned sneer, And the grosser infidel rage. 62 Wigtown /Ifcartsrs' /iDonument But we'll firmly stand, A united band, And ne'er from the fight refrain ; And we'll hope and pray For the coming day When the Lord o'er all shall reign. To all men's sight On this lofty height Long may this Monument stand, And witness bear To the courage rare Of the noble Wigtown band, Who in their day, Let come what may, Stood firm by their God and creed, And were hanged and drowned, Being faithful found, Yet the vict'ry gained indeed. May its lesson high Still meet our eye, And nerve our arm for the fight; And thus may we prove To the saints above We value our great birthright. Dow 3 Men nt Wanes* 63 HOW I WON MY NANCY. 'AD ye a' like tae ken hoo I managed tae fen, Tae coort an' tae marry my sonsie bit wife, Wha proves sic a boon, she's the brag o' the toon My joy an' my very best treasure in life ? I'm a saft bashfu' man, but I'll do what I can Tae let ye ken a', since ye're a* decent folk ; But min' I expect that ye'll never neglect Tae be carefu' tae aye " keep the cat in the poke." Weel, at kirk or at fair, when I saw Nancy there, My face, I declare, wad get a' in a lowe ; An' I felt unco queer, an' was feared the folk near Wad notice me looking an' acting the gow. my ! when she'd chance tae bestow me a glance O' her bonnie bit faceock an' sparkling black e'e, It wad knock me clean gyte j alas ! hapless wight ! Thinks I, I'm noo fast bound in Love's slavery ! Such torture o* mind I was not much inclined Tae endure lang in search o' a canty bit wife ; 1 determined tae try, though I'm awfully shy, If Nancy wad marry me fairly for life. Ube Beauties of Mature. Sae I plucked up the courage for courtship an' marriage, An' meeting wi' Nancy, my love I declared, An' I humm'd an' I ha'd till I'm sure she was stawed. An' wi' perfect surprise in my face there she stared. But at last she cam' to, an' withoot much ado, In a womanly style she professed love for love ; Noo that wasna amiss, an' 'twas sealed wi' a kiss, An' we vowed love perpetual which death couldna move. Noo full twenty years, wi' their hopes an' their fears, Ha'e passed ower oor heads since we wed man an' wife, But oor love hasna fled wi' the years that ha'e sped, For it's fresh still as ever tae help us through life. In oor wardly concerns, wi' oor sax healthy bairns, We manage tae thrive, an' ha'e comforts no few ; Sae the day that my Nancy first stuck tae my fancy I never can ha'e ony reason tae rue. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. ! dear to me at close of day, $) When all things speak of rest, The gentle walk 'midst Nature's charms The charms that please me best. beauties of IRature. 65 'Tis then I leave the busy crowd, 'Mid Nature's sweets to stray, As to his golden-curtained couch Sinks fast the orb of day. In calm retreats like these I find True elevation of the mind. Ah ! say not Nature's voice is mute, That hidden is her lore : Nay, verily ! she speaks to all, And has done evermore. How sweet to hear from sloping bank The playful lambkins' bleat ; And pleasing to my raptured eye The daisies at my feet. Nature's rich feast can never cloy ; Each varied scene transports with joy. The hedge-rows' ever charming green, The scented hawthorn dell, The thousand songsters of the grove, Attract with potent spell ; The blackbird's whistle, clear and loud, The murmur of the brook, The varied scenes of earth and sky Instruct like sagest book. Joys such as these can never pall Thank God, the Giver of them all ! E 66 zro a Sleeping Oh ! would that Labour's worn-out sons Could all enjoy this feast, Instead of toiling evermore That wealth may be increased. Assuredly God never meant That Nature's boundless field Should all be spread with beauties rare, And be to some concealed. All should enjoy the beauteous gift, And grateful hearts to God uplift. TO A SLEEPING BABY. fwEETEST little birdie, Cosy in thy nest, Softly sealed in slumber, Peacefully at rest. Little fancies filling Mind without a care ; Little fairy visions Seen in beauty rare. Search the world all over, . Find what most is fair, To a Babe in slumber It can ne'er compare. a Sleeping 3Bab, 67 Oh ! the angels linger O'er the sleeping fair, Tracing their own graces In the sleeper there. Tell me, little dreamer, Of thy visions bright; Do the angels greet thee, Smiling in thy sight ? Do the fields of glory, With their beauteous flowers, Woo thee back to wander In their vernal bowers ? Stay, oh stay ! and leave not Hearts that love thee well ; Deign still yet to cheer us With thy gladsome spell. Ha! that smile so gentle, Say, what gave it birth ? Did it flash from heaven Joy to give to earth ? Could we but decipher Symbols thus so dear, Might we not discover Heaven is very near ? Scots, witb 1bol flfeartsrefc Sites Dearest little children, God's own gifts, are given To reclaim us wandering From the fold of heaven. Sweetest little cherub, With thy golden hair, And the roses blooming On thy cheeks so fair, May thy guardian angel All through life be nigh, Safe through snares to lead thee To thy native sky ! SCOTS, WITH HOLY MARTYRED SIRES. fGOTS, with holy martyred sires ; Scots, whose breasts the truth inspires, Think ye persecution's fires Yet have ceased to burn ? Every age has its own foes, Whom the faithful must oppose, Ere they gain heaven's sweet repose, From the struggle free. Scots, witb 1bol /I&artrefc Sites* 69 If our fathers' faith was tried, And their dearest heart' s-blood dyed Scotland's soil, both far and wide, We must still be true. Foes within and foes without Outward sneer and inward doubt Seek the ranks of God to rout j But we'll firmly stand ! We can show with honest pride, Stakes reared up in Bladnoch's tide, Where the Wigtown Martyrs died In the days of yore. And we'll thence a lesson learn Still to face oppression stern; Ever shall our spirits yearn For a conscience free. As our fathers overcame In the great Redeemer's name, We their sons shall do the same, And the kingdom win. 70 PEGGY BROON. fE a' ha'e heard o' Cripple Dick an' Sawney on the Soo, Wha hobbled doon tae Galloway tae buy a pun' o' oo' ; But ye never heard frae ony mooth in this auld burgh toon The lilt I'm gaun tae sing tae you aboot lovely Peggy Broon. Chorus Oh ! Peggy Broon, sweet Peggy Broon, ye're the joy o' a' my heart ; What pain I am sure for you I endure, when I'm called frae you to part ! Oh ! Peggy Broon, sweet Peggy Broon, ye're lovelier than the rose ; For you I cud greet till the tears at my feet rin doon frae the tap o' my nose. Ye ha'e also heard o' the grasshopper's feast an' o' the but- terfly's ball, An' sae a picnic was organised quick tae start for Ravenshall ; An' twenty an' three, wi' Peggy an' me, set arl oot o' Wig- town toon : What a swell o' a pair, I truly declare, were me an' my Peggy Broon. Chorus Oh ! Peggy Broon, &c. Broom 71 Ye ha'e heard o' Dame Hubbard that went to the cupboard, tae get her poor dog a bane ; Sae Peggy's mamma, in a basket or twa, had seen that a^ needfu's were tane ; As we journeyed alang we brak' oot in sang, till we wauken'd the echoes aroun', But the lassie dressed neatest, an' her that sang sweetest that day was my Peggy Broon. Chorus Oh ! Peggy Broon, &c. Ye ken Jack an' Jill that climbed up the hill for a stoup o' Adam's wine, Sae when we gat tae the Ravensha' in the sheen o' the bricht sunshine That danced sae sweet on the sea at our feet, an' waukened the lintie's tune, We climbed the heights an' enjoyed the sights, an' sae did sweet Peggy Broon. Chorus Oh ! Peggy Broon, &c. 'Mang the green leafy shaws they wandered in twas, an' Peggy an' me did the same, An' ilka wee bird that hopped on the sward seemed tae warble my dear lassie's name ; An' the clear glassy lake her reflection did make, wi' the clear azure lift aboon ; At her ain native hue she blushed and back drew, did my modest sweet Peggy Broon. Chorus Oh ! Peggy Broon, &c. 72 H Ibeavenlp Dteion, Like the king o' hearts we relished oor tarts, an' we sang an' we danced oor fill ; Oh ! rare was oor fun as the short oors spun, till behind the western hill, 'Mang the rosy cluds Sol stript his duds, an' tae bed slithered gently doon : Then hameward we flew, a happy crew, nane mair sae than Peggy Broon. Chorus Oh ! Peggy Broon, &c. In cosy Creetown an' busy Newton the folks a' glower'd and stared, An' I often wondered what it was for, but noo tae me it's declared 'Twas my Peggy's look made their necks tae crook as we drave through ilka toon ; Sae it's plain tae see there's mair than me that see some- thing in Peggy Broon. Chorus Oh ! Peggy Broon, &c. A HEAVENLY VISION. y HEN tender sleep had gently sealed my eyes, And peaceful slumbers caught my soul away, Resplendent on my vision seemed to rise The glorious sunshine of a heavenly day. H 1bea\>enl Distort, 73 But such a sun shone not on earth like ours, Bestowing gentle warmth and gladsome light ; Nor did its influence wake up transient flowers Such as in earthly bowers afford delight. To one accustomed as I was to earth (So dull and stubborn are our wayward hearts) Such glorious sheen methought must owe its birth To sun like that which light to earth imparts. As one who, cast upon a foreign shore By force of tempest, wonders at each scene, So did I feel, till one with visage hoar Approached with modest air and reverend mien. The mild benignity his eye displayed, The calm tranquillity with which he moved, The good impression all his gestures made, Bespoke him "the disciple Jesus loved." 'Twas even he whose form I guessed so well, Who erst had occupied lone Patmos isle, Caught up to witness what in heaven befell, Where he a rapt beholder was the while. As Virgil led the timorous Dante on Through varied scenes of his immortal song, So did my heavenly guide, the Apostle John, Seize firm my willing hand, and lead along. H 1foea\>enl Distort, There stood hard by a fountain pure and bright, Whose sovran waters, once laved on my eyes, Cleared me of earthly vision, purged my sight, And made me heavenly things to realise. Now saw I scenes of everlasting joy, Scenes such as ne'er have broke on mortal sight ; Now heard I songs that angel lips employ, Songs mortals never reached in loftiest flight. As o'er the amaranthine fields we strayed, The flowers of heaven their radiant beauties spread; The ambient air the fragrance which they made Bestowed in gentle zephyrs round our head. Upon the lofty dome of heaven's bright sky I meekly raised my wondering eyes the while ; There nought but purity I could espy, For nought can enter heaven that would defile. Upon the shining ones my eyes I bent, All clad in robes of brightest snowy white ; In number myriads, spreading as they went O'er the vast wide extent beneath God's sight. Some, pensive, sat reclining on the heights Of heavenly Zion's softly verdant hills, In meditation deep their soul delights, And ardent love to God their bosom fills. H Tfoea\>enl Distort. 75 Some bathe in floods of pure perennial joy, And from these streams catch draughts of deep delight ; Some blissful symphonies with harp employ, And all feel ecstasies in God's own sight. The throne of God and of the Lamb is there, Erected firm upon the heights of heaven, Its brightness mortal tongue may not declare, Its knowledge only to the ransomed given. Its sight, as only meet, our dazzled eyes Beheld with awe, and we for mercy cried ; We beat our breasts, and owned with many sighs Our sins, and faith in Him who for us died. The^eser-blessed Occupants of that high throne Were hid in depths of bright infinitude, And angels, worshipping, had bent down prone Their reverent forms before the Highest God. I Anon, from out the throne of God there glides, In copious flood, the water pure of life, And on its golden streets and shady sides There waves the living tree of virtue rife. Upon the margin of that gentle flood The white-robed throng engage in converse high : Some angels were, some bathed in Jesus' blood, But all supremely blest beneath God's eye. 76 H Deat>enl IDisiom No heat beat fiercely on their lovely forms ; God is their light, and God their chiefest joy: The ransomed, free from earth's tempestuous storms, Enjoy heaven's blissful rest in raptures high. As mortals washed in the Redeemer's blood, My guide and I would fain have joined the song Which ransomed spirits, as we understood, Raised high to Jesus in that happy throng. " Ah ! blessed spirits," to myself I said, " Would that with you my future lot were cast ; Thrice blessed are they in Jesus who are dead, And who to heaven's sweet verdant fields have passed." There passed before my raptured eyes a few Whose faces beamed with ardent love on me ; It seemed as if these gentle ones I knew Before the soul was from the body free. My arms towards them I stretched and forward bent, As if imploring some kind friendly token ; A heavenly smile serene to me they sent, Which warmed my heart, though not a word was spoken- But on they passed, and I, who speechless stood, Was gently beckoned by my faithful guide ; And, following in meditative mood, Was soon attendant gazing at his side. Stanfcarfc o' tbe flfcan. But a brief visitor in heaven I stood, And now 'twas time to earth to hie away ; And with reluctant steps my feet pursued The path that leads from realms of endless day. The pearly gates at length we reached, and there One fond and parting look I threw around ; I sighed to think of leaving scenes so fair, And that on earth I should again be found. My thoughts the loving guide who led me on Reproved, and bade me work in God's good cause. Assurance giving that when time was gone I should enjoy what then but seeming was. Methought my venerable guide returned To heavenly scenes where visions yet remained Fit for his eyes alone ; while I, who mourned Heaven's loss, my earthly consciousness regained. THE STANDARD O' THE MAN. N days gane by when manly sense An' sterling worth gaed han'-in-han', Virtue brocht certain recompense, An' mind was standard o' the man. 78 Ufoe stanfcarfc o' tbe Then men were found wi' noble aim, Wha after learning's treasures ran, Accounting flippant things a shame, Their mind the standard o' the man. But noo we're in degenerate days, An' when this age we closely scan, We see what won our fathers' praise Is no the standard o' the man. Strong common-sense an' culture's lore Are no included in the plan, But artificial tricks in store Noo form the standard o' the man. An' foremost to the front we bring That leading dodge o' a' the clan, I mean that bold audacious thing Ca'd " cheek " the standard o' the man. Oh, brazen " cheek," thou simpering knave, How often dost thou cringe an' fawn ; An' lookest learned, wise, an' brave, To oust a truer, better man. Poor modest worth, though true as gold. May cowering, shy, an' timorous stan', An' see the arrogant and bold Wrench place an' power within the lan\ Dae wfoat's IFlearest Dan', 79 Alas ! that tinsel bears the gree In canny Scotia's darlin' Ian'; Oh ! when shall Virtue's votaries see The mind the standard o' the man ? The idol gold full many a heart Hath worshipped since the world began, All careless of that better part The mind the standard o' the man. When shall opinion sound an' true Lay vile Deception under ban ; Show mental nakedness to view, And lash it whining through the Ian' ? Oh, haste the day when solid worth Shall take its place an' lead the van, Blessing the age that calls it forth, For mind's the standard o' the man. AYE DAE WHAT'S NEAREST HAN'. cares an' fashes press aroun', An' anxious thochts oor spirits vex ; When heavy burdens bear us doon, An' warldly troubles sair perplex, so He H>ae wbat's IRearest 1foatV t There's nocht like keeping up oor heart, An' acting on some weel-formed plan, Resolved wi ; carking care tae part, An' dae the job that's nearest han'. We maybe ha'e a lot o' weans Wi' wames tae fill an' backs tae deed ; An' whiles we may ha'e aching banes In striving tae supply their need ; But let us look at such a time Tae Him wha deeds the flo'ers sae gran', An' feeds wee birds o' every clime, An' thank Him for what's nearest han'. For why should folks get in a fry, Or sink beneath an irksome load ? Far better lift oor head on high, An' plod awa' wi' trust in God ; A cheerfu' spirit eases toil, Before its smile nae cares can stan', An' labour mak's the pot tae boil ; Then dae the job that's nearest han'. Oor Saviour, when He dwelt on earth, Ne'er spurned the day o' little things ; An' though He gave the angels birth, He decked the flo'er that lowly springs S)ae wbat's Bearcat 1foan'. si An' though He launched the worlds in space, An* formed the complex mind o' man, He welcomed childhood's beaming face, An' stroked its head wi 7 gracious han'. An' worthy men who've blessed mankind In science, literature, an' art, Ha'e never little deeds declined That helped them on tae act their part. Then if we wad secure success, We must adopt some siccar plan ; An' Providence oor aim will bless If we but dae what's nearest han'. Did we but lubricate the wheels O' labour wi' the oil o' joy, We'd work as we were dancing reels, An' sangs wad a' oor lips employ ; All obstacles wad vanish quite, An' nocht before oor zeal wad stan' ; We'd face even mountains left an' right, If they should e'er lie nearest han'. 82 Bocbt OTifs tbe best Mtt o' a'. BOCHT WIT'S THE BEST WIT O' A'. tHEN the journey o' life ye ha'e trod For the length o' threescore years an' ten, Ye'll be apt tae look back o'er the road Where ye pilgrimed sae lang amang men. An' though oft ye've been driven aboot When adversity's breezes did blaw, Yet the lesson experience wrocht oot Was, Bocht wit's the best wit o' a'. When at first ushered intae the world, At yer games wi' yer wee neebour boys, Yer tender bit heart has been dirled When they wranged ye, or brak' yer wee toys. An' at schule when companions enticed Frae the straucht line o' pure moral law, Ye were stung wi' remorse, an' then prized The wit that's the best wit o' a'. And when youth's golden morn was illumed Wi' the fanciful pictures o' joy, An' the voyage o' life was assumed Tae be free from whate'er could annoy ; Too soon did the voyager find That the visions his fond fancy saw, Like snaw in the thow had declined That bocht wit's the best wit o' a'. ZTbe Sun&erlanfc Calamity* An' manhood itsel' canna boast O' unvarying triumph o' skill, Nor can the pet schemes we love most Be accomplished by mere power o' will. There are failures in much that we do, And sometimes oor success may be sma', But oor efforts we still must renew, For bocht wit's the best wit o' a'. When the gloamin' o' life comes at length, An' we muse on the days that are gone, We seem as if clad in new strength As we tell o' great victories won. But 'mang a' that is pleesant tae tell We will class what unlucky we ca', For we ne'er could ha'e got on sae well Withoot bocht wit, the best wit o' a'. THE SUNDERLAND CALAMITY. [On Saturday afternoon, June i6th, 1883, at a Conjuring Entertainment in the Victoria Hall, Sunderland, principally for children, 182 of these young people were suffocated and bruised to death by a partially-closed door jamming them together on the stair as they were descending from the gallery.] N Rama of old there was weeping heard. For a mighty sorrow the people stirred, And Rachel, in anguish, all comfort spurned, And her slaughtered babes disconsolate mourned. 84 TOC Sunfcerlanfc Calamity* As sad a sight in our time, I ween, In Sunderland's Hall of late was seen, When bands of children, joyous and bright, At the scene of mirth were killed outright. The conjuror's art had pleased the crowd, And young hearts shouted their plaudits loud From the space above where they sat alone, Left free to themselves and watched by none. And now the "presents" their eyes attract, And they rush down-stairs like a cataract. Till, stemmed by the fatal bolted door, They struggle, and writhe, and rise no more ! Alas ! of the thousand young folks or more W T ho passed up-stairs but an hour before Nigh ten score met an untimely death, By that horrible crush deprived of breath. And fathers quite frantic run here and there, And mothers scream wildly and tear their hair, For their lambs have been rudely snatched away; Ah ! cruel Death ! what a lovely prey ! Oh ! sad are a thousand homes, I wot ; There are hearts like to break near that fatal spot; And the shadow of Death hath settled down With its awful gloom on that seaport town. Sunfcerlanb Calamity 85 And many a tale fond mothers tell Of the little sleepers they loved so well ; And their little ways rise up to view, And the parents' grief afresh renew. O Death ! thou didst gloat o'er a dainty feast When the breath from so many young bosoms ceased Ah ! it was not the aged, nor manhood's bloom, But bright-visioned children that sought the tomb. "Twas a garden of blossoms all sweet and inviting, The fragrance the air and the senses delighting, Swept off by the tempest in life's early spring, And faded and gone all the pleasures they bring. With generous pity the nation's heart Has shared with the sufferers the terrible smart ; And our gracious Queen hath the sorrow expressed Bless the tender soul in her womanly breast ! Let us pray for the hearts bowed down with grief, That the Father on high may afford relief : May the Shepherd who folded their lambs on high Prepare them to meet " in the sweet by-and-bye." 86 Gone to tbe GONE TO THE WHITE-ROBED THRONG, Yp ONE to the white-robed throng, 5$!, Gone to the realms on high, Gone hence to swell the ransomed's song Where no tear dims the eye. Gone from a world of woe, Gone to the heavenly calm, Triumphant over every foe, Waving the victor's palm. Gone to the Fountain-head Of pure and lasting joy Gone to the Lamb tor us who bled, His praise their blest employ. Gone to the Tree of Life, Whose leaves the nations heal ; Though heavenly bosoms fear no strife, Such as weak mortals feel. Gone to the angel band, Those loyal sons of God, Who never swerved to either hand, But kept Truth's royal road. fliy<$raw. 87 Thrice happy must they be To Jesus who have fled ; They now have gained true liberty, Their spirits well have sped. Salvation they have gained, Full vict'ry o'er their foes ; No more their anxious bosoms pained, They rest in heaven's repose. When loved ones pass away, Why grieve the Kingdom won, Why grudge the words the Judge shall say, " Servant of God, well done ! " TILDA M'GRAW. flND frien's, understan' I'm a bashfu' young man T But as decent a chappie as ever ye saw ; Be as patient's ye can, an' I'll tell ye the plan That I took when I coorted sweet Tilda M'Graw. Noo Tilda she leeved wi' her folks on a farm, An' whiles tae the toon she brocht butter an' eggs ; Sae I thocht if I made up there could be no harm, For o' love I was likely tae dee on my legs. 88 She'd a faither an' mither, a stalwart young brither, An uncle, an' aunty, a sister or twa ; An' I felt a' throughither an' often did swither Before I could face up tae Tilda M'Graw. I'm a maister shoemaker, an' keep men employed, An' they whiles overheard me when ravin' awa At my work fair demented an' quite overjoyed Wi' the charms an' attractions o' Tiliia M'Graw. Weel, I summoned the cheek tae gang oot tae the farm, Put on my best claes tae look frisky an' braw, An' I thocht my neat figure would prove quite a charm Tae the sicht o' my darlin', sweet Tilda M'Graw. Through the Crescent an' Bladnoch I set aff fu' douce j Quo' the gossips, " Whaur's Geordie gaun dressed up sae braw?" Said a lood-spoken hissy, " My word but he's spruce, I'll wager he's aff tae see Tilda M'Graw." On an errand sae sweet, an' in such a nice mood, I felt on good terms wi' whatever I saw ; A' nature seemed blithe, an' the birds sang sae lood That I thocht they were praising up Tilda M'Graw. I thocht that the sweet-scented slopes o' Baldoon, The Bladnoch that washed its wee pebbles sae sma', The earth an' the air a' sae vocal aroun', Were fairer when thinking on Tilda M'Graw. ZTilfca /nv<3raw* 89 But for a' 'twas a trial an' put me tae proof, Tae face the auld folks, brither, sisters, an' a', An' I'm sure I looked awkward an' seemed quite a coof, Though cheered by the smile o' sweet Tilda M'Graw. They gied me a welcome and bade me tak' tea, The table was spread wi' a' things great and sma' ; An' they pressed me tae eat, an' they a' were sae sweet Tae the lad that gaed coortin' blithe Tilda M'Graw. When the table was cleared we had a' sorts o' fun, An' they a' tried their best tae keep dulness awa' ; Their kindness owercam' me, my heart it was won By the auld folks and young folks o' Tilda M'Graw. Noo, I saw my sweet Tilda that nicht by her lane, An' I telt her my heart she had stolen awa', An' protested that here on this earth there was nane That could win my affections but Tilda M'Graw. I doon on my knees, beat my breast, heaved a sigh, Turned romantic an' said she was purer than snaw, That her een sparkled brichter than stars in the sky What a modest wee blush crimsoned Tilda M'Graw ! I telt her the sang o' the blackbird sae lood, O' the mavis that warbled in ilka green shaw, An' the thoosand wee choristers o' the greenwood, Couldna match the sweet voice o' my Tilda M'Graw. 90 Uilfca I said the moss-rose when it's freshened wi' dew, An' loads wi' sweet perfume the breezes that blaw, Was an emblem o' beauty frae nature sae true O' my ain bloomin' lassie, dear Tilda M'Graw. Her teeth I compared tae a flock o' wee sheep Wi' fleeces that rival the pure driven snaw ; An' aye through her ruby-red lips they would peep, An' set aff the charms o' my Tilda M'Graw. Her saft dimpled cheeks sae transparently fair, Their fresh glowin' hue that nae artist could draw, Her pale marble forehead, an' bricht gowden hair, Were sung in my praises o' Tilda M'Graw. I said that without her I only could pine, An' doon tae a shadow my body would fa', But that, if her hand an' her heart were but mine, I'd prove a kind husband tae Tilda M'Graw. She blushed at her praises, frae honesty's heart, Wi' a wee modest smile in my arms she did fa', An' whispered, " Dear Geordie, frae you I'll ne'er part, An' I hope a guide wife ye'll fin' Tilda M'Graw." The decent auld parents seemed pleased wi' my call, For, ye see, they had dochters for giein' awa' ; An' the lassies themsel's were like sweet heather-bells 'Twas nae wonder I sighed for sweet Tilda M'Graw. fliy<3raw. 91 But I needna be lang wi' my rambling bit sang ; Suffice it tae say, ere a month rowed awa', The hail gate-en' rang wi' " Hurrahs " lood and lang At the wedding o' me an' my Tilda M'Graw. When the Greeks an' the Trojans got intae a war, Auld Homer the poet the ships numbered a' ; Sae I think I'll narrate a' the folks sma' an' great That cam' tae the weddin' o' Tilda M'Graw. There was Dixon the parson an' Mysie his wife, An' Geordie M 'Clink an' his spouse frae Taha' ; Big Jean frae Barness, an' her wee sister Jess, Wha honoured the nuptials o' Tilda M'Graw. There was Andy M'Minn frae the farm o' Drumjin, An' wee drouthy Tam frae the Back o' the Wa' ; Jean Clune frae the brig, lookin' gaudy an' trig A cousin, I think, o' my Tilda M'Graw. Lang Sandy M'Lean, wha seemed a* skin an' bane ; Frae Sorbie a couple o' hizzies sae braw ; An' Saunners M'Tier frae the farm o' Balsier A' folk that respected douce Tilda M'Graw. Tam Broon an' his Jenny cam' roun' frae Kirvennie, Frae Kirkland there cam' douce auld Andy M'Gaw ; An' Tibbie M'Clurg a' the way cam' frae Borgue For Tibbie was auntie tae Tilda M'Graw. Uilfca Then wee Hughie Little frae Brig o' the Spittal ; A big buirdly chiel' frae the Clatterinshaw ; Pate Steele frae Moorpark, an' his sweetheart Jean Clark, Cam' sweliin' the weddin' o' Tilda M'Graw. The Misses Colquhoun frae the farm o' Baldoon ; Kirkinner some dizzen sent trippin' awa' ; The Blains frae Westmains, an' auld Cook frae the Crook, A' witnessed the weddin' o' Tilda M'Graw. Frae Wigtown there cam' a hale 'busfu' o' folk, Ca'd Simson, an' Murray, M'Gown, Kean, an' Shaw, M'Kie, an' M'Hafne, Stewart, Baxter, and Guffie, Tae witness the splicing o' Tilda M'Graw. What feasting an' laughin', what giff-gaffan' chaffin' ; Dull care that same evening through fricht ran awa' ; An' a' the guests tried, an' wi' each ither vied, Tae shower greatest honours on Tilda M'Graw. There was singing an' dancing, an' jumping an' prancing ; A flute quite melodious wee Tamson did blaw ; An' spruce Jamie Riddle played weel on his fiddle ; Oh ! blithe was the wedding o' Tilda M'Graw. Young men, the best wish that my heart can express, The best earthly guid tae yer lot that can fa', Is that sune ye may woo wi' triumphant success A douce, decent partner like Tilda M'Graw. feeep tbe Cat witbtn tbe pofee* 93 AYE KEEP THE CAT WITHIN THE POKE, T half an e'e it's plain tae see Some things are spoken in a joke, Which never should repeated be, But, like a cat, kept in a poke. Much mischief we ha'e often seen, An' freen'ship lost 'twixt neebour folk, Because some ill-advised frien' Had let the cat escape the poke. Oh ! wha the sterlin' worth can tell O' him that wisely throws the cloak O' charity ower words that fell Which aye should sleep within the poke ! Wha ne'er retailed in neebour's hoose, But let it pass awa' like smoke, The word that passions wad let loose, An' kept it safe within the poke. Ye're no obleeged tae blab yer mind, An' a' things tae yer neebour croak ; The wise man often is inclined Some news tae keep within the poke. feeep tbe Cat wttbin tbe poke* Sometimes it's wise, wi' generous han', The rising scandal quick tae choke, Ere it should grieve oor brither man : 'Tis better kept within the poke. Or, better still, a speedy grave Wi' ready, willing han' tae hoke, An' bury deep, nor seek tae save, What's dangerous sleepin' in a poke. There may be times when speakin' free Could not oor just reproof provoke ; When freen' an' foe would a' agree Tae let the cat oot o' the poke. When deep in love, ye should confess't, Though in the act yer like tae choke ; Owned tae yer lass, ye'll forder best Tae let the cat oot o' the poke. Suppose some rich auld miser dees, An' ere he dee'd wi' you had spoke, Naming wha gets his hale bawbees, Quick ! let that cat oot o* the poke. But wisdom aye must be oor guide, An' still her aid we must invoke. An' then we'll easily decide This question o' the cat an' poke. HEle ma$ not /l&eet Hgatn, 95 WE MAY NOT MEET AGAIN. (For the purposes of rhyme, " again" accords with " pain," instead of the more correct " agen.") 'JJK IS sometimes said with plaintive voice, ($ And heart that seems to ache with pain, "Alas ! I thought not when he left We two should never meet again ! " And memory then will waken up Some word that may asleep have lain For some time in the mind, but now Recalled when hearts are rent in twain. How sad that Friendship's sacred flame Should interruption e'er sustain That hasty word should e'er divide Two hearts that may not meet again. Alas ! weak man, by passion driven, Like angry billow of the main, Utters the rash, unguarded word Which withers hearts ne'er joined again. Thrice blest is he whose generous soul Embraces all his brother men j Who, though fell Death should intervene, Grieves not their meeting not again. 5 feett o' a snus wee bit Iboose, Why should not brethren of mankind, Each hasty word and act disdain, When (humbling thought!) they cannot tell If ever they shall meet again ? Full many a sigh is upward heaved At thought of deeds bemoaned in vain Deeds which have wrung the very hearts Of those who never met again. And oft we wish another chance To undo acts so fraught with pain ; Alas ! vain wish ! henceforth be true To those we may not meet again. The kindly word, the generous deed, And faith in the Redeemer slain With these we bless our brother man, And part to meet in heaven again. I KEN O' A SNUG WEE BIT HOOSE. fKEN o' a snug wee bit hoose, An' I'm prood it belangs tae mysel', Whaur my bairns an' my wine sae croose, Wi' me in sweet unison dwell. 5 feen o' a snua wee bit Iboose. 97 I ken there are nobles sae high, That dwell in big hooses sae grand ; Wha get whate'er money can buy O' the products o' air, sea, an' land. But I carena a fig for them a' ; ' I will wager a croon tae a groat That their mansions boast pleasures but sma r Compared tae the joys o' my cot. For I ken there are brave hearts and leal That beat warmly for me in my hame Unobsequious, true as the steel, 'Mid the changes o' Time aye the same. Hoo the heart o' an honest man yearns, Be his lot e'er sae humble and poor, For his hame, an' his wife, an' his bairns Wi' affection that's tender and pure ! 'Twas Wisdom Divine formed the plan O' the Family Circle on earth ; And there the best instincts o' man Grow big by the family hearth. And the tenderest picture o' Heaven That the truest perception can show, Is the vision on earth that was given Of a Hame with kind hearts all aglow. G 98 n:be IRtver JSlatmocb* THE RIVER BLADNOCH. fHAVE read of classic rivers, In the poet's lofty song, On whose margins mighty battles Have been waged by heroes strong Such as the great Scammander, Near the lofty walls of Troy, 'Gainst whose billows great Achilles Did his Grecian sword employ. There are also famous rivers On whose waters, wide and deep, The fleets of many nations To the ocean daily sweep ; But of all the streams that wander From their fountains to the sea, The sweet meandering Bladnoch Shall be dearest still to me. In my boyhood's golden morning I have strayed upon its banks, Where with playmates glad and gay I enjoyed our pleasant pranks. As an old familiar friend Still I gaze upon its stream ; Still I love its gentle ripple Quivering in the bright sunbeam. 1Ri\>er Blatmoclx 99 At its moorland home of heather Where the plover skims the lea, And the wildflowers bloom in beauty, All unheeded, bright, and free It begins its lonely wanderings Through the sweetly-scented vales, And refreshes by its waters Grassy meads and mossy dales. Ever on it glides in beauty, Ever sweet it murmurs low, As its placid crystal waters Kiss the pebbles as they flow : Past Dalreagle's fertile meadows, And Kirwaugh's high wooded hills, Where the Autumn-tinted foliage With delight the bosom fills : Past fair Bladnoch's cosy village, And the sweet lands of Baldoon, Whose woods and banks are charming In er Blatmocb. And we proudly tell the story, How the eagle of great Rome Was repelled by our forefathers In their stand for hearth and home. Then a vision sad and painful, 'Twas thy lot, O Stream, to see, In the days of Persecution In the days of Tyranny ; When the Female Martyrs suffered At the stakes within thy bed For the rights of Truth and Conscience, And the Church's Living Head. Grand the sacrifice they made At thy shrine, immortal Truth ! Long their memory we will cherish Matron Age and Virgin Youth ! Longer than the Bladnoch rolls, Gently bounding to the sea, Shall our Martyrs' mem'ry live Even to all eternity ! Beauteous river ! hold thy way, Scattering blessings in thy course ; May the lands through which thou passest Feel thy fructifying force ; Still may verdure and sweet flowers Mark the progress of thy stream, Softly may thy gliding waters Sound like music in a dream. tlbere's no Uwa Mess o' tbat 101 THERE'S NO TWA WEYS O' THAT. (Though scarcely grammatical, the Scotch " there's," instead of " there are," is retained.) f'VE seen a decent laddie Begin the race o' life, An' keep his wey fu' steady 'Mid honourable strife. I've kent him learn tae drink, An' aft his craigie wat ; What cam' o' that I'm wae tae think There's no twa weys o' that. I've seen a douce bit girl, Brocht up wi' tender care, Enter upon earth's giddy whirl Tae meet her ruin there. It had been better far Her hame she'd never quat, Than parents' earthly peace tae mar There's no twa weys o' that. I've seen a foppish chiel, Wha's mind's a perfect blank, Wi' capers try tae mak' us feel That he was come o' rank. 102 3 tbat speafe unto tbee am 1foe:' Wi' e'egless, cane, cigar, He's worth the looking at ; Wi' him a peacock's on a par There's no twa weys o' that. As ower life's chequered way Oor daily coorse we take, There's much that we may do an' say The sad one glad tae make. A kindly act, a cheery word, Wi' freenly han' the head tae pat, Are what we a' can weel afford There's no twa wevs o' that. "I THAT SPEAK UNTO THEE AM HE." "I that speak unto thee am He." St. John iv. 26. : HO is this that at Jacob's well Sits Him down 'neath a burning sun ? His weary looks too truly tell Of the length of the arduous journey done. Who is she that approacheth near, With lightsome step and demeanour free ? What mean those words that greet the ear " I that speak unto thee am He ? " 3 tbat speafe unto tbee am 1fce/' ios 'Tis the Lord of Glory in human guise Waiting a precious soul to save, As Sychar's daughter for water hies To the ground that Jacob to Joseph gave. Ah ! little she thought of that Fountain pure That wells up to all eternity, Which flows so free, and the promise sure " I that speak unto thee am He." Soon she drank of the living stream That flows from the Rock of Ages cleft ; And as one amazed in a blissful dream She hurries back to the friends she left, And proclaims the story of Christ new found, And freedom from Sin's vile slavery, And she gladly repeats the joyful sound "I that speak unto thee am He." Oh ! weary ones, by Sin opprest, Chasing the shadows of fleeting Time, Striving 'mid failure and sad unrest For lasting joy in this nether clime, Look to the Stranger at Jacob's well, Bend lowly down upon reverent knee, Ponder those words from His lips that fell " I that speak unto thee am He." He who, when man had lost Paradise, Was promised to bruise the Serpent's head ; He who was figured in sacrifice That daily on Jewish altars bled ; 104 " j tbat speafe unto tbee am ibe. 1 He of whom prophets in raptures spoke ; The theme of bard's highest minstrelsy ; Who came to rescue from Satan's yoke " I that speak unto thee am He ! " He who removes Sin's direful load, That presses the weary toiler down; Who opens his eyes to the blest abode To the Father's Home, and the glittering crown ; Who tells of the One that is "mighty to save," Of mercy a boundless, fathomless sea ; Of a risen Lord and an empty grave "I that speak unto thee am He." The " broken cisterns" of earthly joy No more my wounded spirit can brook ; The " healing waters " my praise employ That Faith drinks in, as with steadfast look She takes her stand by the " riven side " Of the Saviour-God who died for me, And bathes in the blood of Him who cried " I that speak unto thee am He." Oh ! grandest sound that the ear of Time E'er caught in its flight to Eternity ! Thy mighty triumphs shall rise sublime As the nations come forth to victory ; For the Dragon shall yet from his throne be hurled, And, with trumpet blast of earth's jubilee, That Voice shall gladden a ransomed world "I that speak unto thee am He." OLeoenfce o' Sanbte Bunne, 105 YE LEGENDE O' SANDIE DUNNE; OR, YE BATTLE OF BISCHOPE BURNE. , Sandie Dunne ! Oh, Sandie Dunne, Come say whaur ye ha'e been ; What gars the sweat ooze frae yer brow, An' trickle ower yer een ? " What means the dust upon yer claes, The pallor on yer broo ? Come, tell yer story, tell it oot, An' see ye tell it true. " For three lang nichts an' three lang days, In sorrow an' in pain, We searched the wud an' stemmed the flood, Some trace o' thee tae gain. " But nae success oor labour crooned, An' hope was like tae dee ; Noo, Sandie Dunne, good Sandie Dunne ! Declare what cam' ower thee." u Oh ! mither mine, allay yer fears, An' listen unto me, An' I will tell ane honest tale, Withoot ane word o' lee. 106 ]2e Xegenbe o' Sanfcie H>unne. " 'Tis but three nichts since wi' my sheep I roamed the pastures free, Whaur sweet Balfern's high verdant hills Stan' glowering ower the sea. "The flowery fields sweet perfume breathed, An' balmy was the air ; The waters sparkled in the sun, An' earth seemed wondrous fair. " I lingered midst the pleasing scenes, An' tuned my oaten reed, An' merrily passed the golden hours, Of which I took no heed. " My fleecy care at pleasure strayed, An' neighbouring colts drew near, An' listened wi' their ears erect, The music pleased tae hear. " Then, tossing wild their youthfu' heads, They scampered ower the lea, But still returned, as by a spell, Tae listen unto me. " At length oppressed with sultry heat, Sleep bound me as its prey, An' on the grassy verdant mound Supine I heedless lay. U>e 3Legenfce o' Sanfcie Bunne* 107 " Two hours had slipped since the sun had dipped His rim in the western main, When I was awoke by a noise that broke From horse-hoofs on the plain. " To my feet I sprang, when the chief o' the gang Fast seized me for his prey ; An' flung on a horse, like a lifeless corse, They bore me straight away. " The nicht grew dark as we spurred along, But our journey soon was sped; For it ended ere long at a castle strong, Through whose gate I was quickly led. " In a dungeon drear, half dead wi' fear, Full roughly was I cast, An' the bitter nicht, wi' grief an' fright, Full sadly o'er me passed. " Wi' the first grey light on the eastern height I viewed my prison cell ; Through a window near I straight did peer, An' light on the mystery fell. " I knew that the Bishop of Whithorn town To England's cause had turned, An' wi' him Ahannay o' Sorbie toor Wi' English fervour burned. 108 jje Xeaenfce o' SanMe H>unne* " An' far an' near for the English king They socht recruits tae raise, Tae fecht against their ain countree, Disloyal, false, an' base. " They bore off a', they bore off me, An' thocht tae bend my will ; But curse alicht on me an' mine If Scottish bluid I spill. " I cast aboot tae free mysel', An' guid it was for me Nae grating barred my window-pane Tae check my liberty. " Sae being young an' nimble baith I braved the giddy height O' Sorbie's clud-defying toor, An' on the grun' did light. " An' fortune seemed tae favour me, For, standing in the yard, A gallant steed, in saddle good, Appeared withoot a guard. " The drunken sogers o' the toor Had revelled lang that nicht, An' had forgot their bars tae tent An' see that a' was richt. U?e Xegenfce o' Sanbte Dunne* 109 " Sae oot I led the gallant steed, An' vaulted on its back, An' fled as a' the Furies were Pursuing on my track. " An' on I raid, still on I raid, Tae Carrick I was bent, Love for auld Scotland urged me on An' still fresh courage lent. " As like an arrow from the bow I flew past cot and tower, The startled inmates oot wad rush, An' after me wad glower. " Full feared was I that Southron scouts Wad seize my bridle-rein, An' capture me, a woful wicht, My labour a' in vain. " But Fortune kindly favoured me, An' aye stood by my side ; Sae ere the day was half-way spent I closed my weary ride. " The Bruce's brither soon I reached, An' telt o' traitors here ; An' anger filled the hero's heart Wha lo'es oor land sae dear. no ji)e SLegenfce o' Sanfcie Dunne* " A purse he pressed within my han', Filled fu' o' yellow gold ; 1 Heaven bless thee, youth/ the patriot cried, ' For news that thou hast told. " ' That gift accept for a' thy pains An' thy guid loyalty ; Bedeck thy bonnie bride wi' that, An' happy may ye be ! ' " The Bruce commands tae strike their tents ; The soldiers straight obey, An' quickly was the distance passed 'Twixt Ayr and Galloway. " Meantime the traitor legion sped The Bishop in the van Wi' easy march tae Wigtown hill, Whaur halting space they fan'. " An' here they were surprised by Bruce, M'Kerlie at his richt, An' quick they fled tae Moss o' Cree Wi' doonricht dreid an' fricht. " Bruce followed up ; at last they stood, An' sair the battle bled, An' bluid-red ran the neebourin' burn Upon its mossy bed. ' Sanbie Dunne, 111 " The valour o' the Bruce's sword, An J guid M'Kerlie's blade, On a' the vast opposing host Terrific slaughter made. " The remnant o' the routed band Were forced tae turn an' flee, An' helter-skelter aff they ran, An' rushed across the Cree. " The Bishop in the recreant host Was brocht at last tae bay The mitred priest, wi' sword in han', Fell as the Bruce's prey. " An' a' this sicht, O mither mine, It fell tae me tae see ; Nae wonder sweat Stan's on my broo, Or trickles ower my e'e. " Nae wonder dust is on my claes, An' pallor on my broo ; But what I've seen an' what I've dune, I've truly telt tae you. " An' noo my bonnie May I'll wed, Wi' Bruce's guerdon blest, The mair that Bruce's michty sword Tae Galloway has gi'en rest." 112 Ube Wrecfe of tbe Cit of OLtma/' THE WRECK OF THE "CITY OF LIMA.' t GALLANT ship on Afric's coast At anchor peaceful lay, And the scorching sun o'erhead had run Its course for another day : When a ripple arose on the placid sea, And then a gale blew fierce : " She's parted her anchor and makes for the Bar ! " Was the cry that the air did pierce. And the furious wind lashed the crested waves, Which held high carnival ; And the " City of Lima" drove on the Bar Which faces the Port Natal. And the storm-king raved and the strong gale blew 'Twas the fell sou'-easter's breath ; And amidst the blackness of night the crew Were face to face with death. But the ship was seen from the distant shore, Ah ! who can go out that night ? For the boisterous terrors of that dread storm Filled the stoutest heart with affright. Ube TOrecfe ot tbe "Cits of %ima." And sailors tell, who know the place Where the " City of Lima " lay, That the jaws of hell are not more fell Than the Bar that guards that bay. The prey of the winds, the prey of the waves, The prey of the ruthless Bar, The gallant ship was breaking up Into shred and hulk and spar. And the hopeless crew, what can they do ? What boat could ride and live In the storm that raged on that fearful night, Or hope of succour give ? But a life-boat lay on the far-off strand, And a band nobly volunteered To attempt the doomed ship's crew to land, And away they quickly steered. In the dead of that howling angry night, On their message of mercy bent, Their brawny arms o'er the foaming waves Like an arrow the life-boat sent. But the sand-spit gained, the furious storm Fell sore on their tiny boat ; And the breakers high reared their angry crests, And their progress you scarce could note; H zrbe Hfllrecfe of tbe "Cits of SLima." Hour after hour they struggled amain, By inches they made their way, Till the object towards which they strained their eyes Before but half a mile lay. Ah ! hard was the tug that now began 'Mid the boiling surf's mad strife ; But the British heart ne'er brooks defeat When in search of a brother's life. And so the crew of that good life -boat, Though the sea swept o'er them sore, With their trust in Heaven, bore bravely on 'Mid the tempest's hideous roar. That last half mile ! what a weary pull, Exhausted, cold, benumbed ! But for the good hearts that beat in their breasts, Those noble men had succumbed. From the verge of death was the struggle watched, With throbbing hearts and fire-shot eyes, By the storm-lashed crew of the ill-starred ship, For their chance in that struggle lives or dies ! They have gained the ship ! they have saved the crew! Hurrah for the true and bold ! In future, with tales of the brave strong arm, Shall this gallant deed be told. %ine0 on an lElfcer's Jubilee. LINES RECITED ON AN ELDER'S JUBILEE. fHALL laurel wreath adorn the brow Of earth's heroic son, And shall we tribute disallow When nobler fight is won ? A veteran servant of the Lord We greet with honours due, And here convey with full accord Good wishes, warm and true. As aged oak, whose deep-struck roots The blasts of years defy, Survives to shed its leafy fruits, While brethren prostrate lie : As gallant ship still holds her course, With timbers firm and sound, While parted vessels, by the force Of gales, the port have found : As warrior, trained in many a field, Still urges on the fight, Resolved ne'er to the foe to yield Till victory crown the right : 116 OLines on an Elfcer's So stands our venerable friend, Well tried and faithful proved ; Our Session's father, to commend The Church he long has loved. Father in Christ, may heavenly light Thy closing years illume, And chase the shadows of the night That gather round the tomb. As fall earth's props on either hand, Heaven be thy constant stay ; 'Mid glories of the Beulah land Thy latest footsteps stray. And when the "silver cord" gives way, And breaks the " golden bowl," May guardian angels safe convey To heaven thy ransomed soul. There, after faithful service here, Through Christ the victory won, The cry shall fall upon thine ear, " Servant of God, well done ! ' ; We're a' ae 'oo. WE'RE A' AE 'OO. fsiNG the pressing problem o' the present time o' day, That's hoo amang the rich an' poor fair Peace may hold her sway, An' a' be joined in freenship's bonds, sae faithfu', leal, and true, As they should leeve thegither that are a' ae 'oo. Some think mair room is needed for our rising population, An' ithers that we needna want in sic a prosperous nation ; That big estates should not be held by fortune's favoured few, But a' be fair divided, since we're a' ae 'oo. An' some o' late hae stumped the Ian' wi' siclike stupid notions, An' bred cold disaffection wi' its kindred bad commotions ; Oh ! the folly and the danger o' this troublesome ado, That sends fell discord 'mang us when we're a' ae 'oo. Commend me tae the ancient plan that was designed by Heaven, Nae fitter method tae the world by man has e'er been given ; That plan is a' tae leeve in love, nor ill 'gainst ithers brew, For a' are come o' ae descent we're a' ae 'oo. 118 We're a' ae 'oo. It's no in po'er o' erring man a better way tae find Than emanated at the first frae the Creator's mind ; He kent what best was for us, and a' future times foreknew, An' gied us love tae sowder folks that's a' ae 'oo. This heavenly panacea for the ills o' human life, Like oil on troubled waters, puts an end tae every strife ; When it acts on stubborn, wilfu' hearts, it quickly mak's them boo, An* perceive the wise arrangement that made a' ae 'oo. There's nae necessity for change upon the good auld law, For rich an' poor may leeve like freens an' ane wi' ither draw; If only loving sympathy be cherished by the two, The/11 gie an illustration that we're a' ae J oo. See, here's an honest working-man laid low by fell disease, His wife an' bairns his couch surround wi' hearts but ill at ease; Oh ! glorious sight ! the rich man comes wi' help tae bear them through, Noo, isna that what folks should be that's a' ae 'oo ? The wealth that waits on affluence nae better use can find Than dealing oot its favours tae the needy o' mankind ; 'Tis kindness only that can mak' auld Eden bloom anew, An' interlock the human hearts that's a' ae 'oo. 119 The poor ha'e also much tae learn tae bring this state aboot, For envying the rich their lot their case will never suit ; By patient toil an' industry they'll many an ill eschew, An' prove a worthy section whaur we're a' ae 'oo. Then let us strive wi' heart an' han' the gen'ral guid tae seek, Nor let unseemly jealousies mak' sic a paction weak An' then we'll dare ought else tae try oor conco rd tae undo An' show that we are giants since we're a' ae 'oo. TAM TARGER. HEN golden Ceres' ripened ear Waves in the Autumn o j the year, An' reapers whet their sickles clear, There's yin the while We'll greatly miss wha aye cam' here Frae Erin's isle. For thirty years the stalwart frame O' tall Tarn Targer hither came, When Sol's bright rays did fiercely flame On yellow fields, Tae shear the fruits, wi' honest aim, That Nature yields. 120 uam TTarger. Though rough tae look on he appeared, Not even a wean for Tarn was feared ; His honesty his debts aye cleared ; An' welcome cheer When Wigtownwards his coorse he steered He aye gat here. The hairst when he his illness took He tried tae sway his reaping-hook, But strength his manly arm forsook, An' doon he cam', Wi' back reclining on a stock There sat puir Tam ! He seemed tae be a dune-up man ; But freens wha kent him lent a han' Tae send him tae his native Ian', Where noo he sleeps, Pairt o' the human grain that's fa'n When fell Death reaps. The sinews o' a stable land Are working men on every hand, Wha's honest labour can command An honest wage ; May Britain aye ha'e sic a band In every age ! B "Cup of Mater," A "CUP OF WATER." 'iDST a group of little children, On a lovely summer day, Stood a sickly pale companion Watching childhood's gleesome play ; Bent and pallid, grave and wistful Pain depicted on her face Like a flower whose stem is broken, Short, it seemed, would be her race. Fain she would her playmates join In their buoyant, happy glee, But her pain a prisoner held her Propped with hands upon her knee. One kind heart was moved to pity At a sight so touching sad ; Was there nothing for the weary That could cheer or make her glad ? In a " Home " for little children, Where the sick are nursed with care, Moved to action, gently generous, She was placed an inmate there. 122 H "Cup of Water*" But though skill and pitying kindness To relieve together vied, Nought could save the fragile flower ; Soon it hung its head and died. Years fled on, and now the kind one Pressed himself the bed of death, And with faith in Christ triumphant Hopeful yielded up his breath. Angels hovered near the good man To convey his soul away Bright the host, in crowding numbers Flashing from the courts of day. Smiled the spirit of the ransomed At its glorious convoy, But intenser grew the gladness Brighter gleamed the beam of joy To behold in that bright squadron One fair seraph nearer stand, Pouring forth a thousand welcomes To the glorious, happy land. 'Twas the little earthly sufferer Whom his kindness sought to bless ; And she walked the heights of glory With her tiny hand in his. Oh ! the spell of loving-kindness ! How it welds us all in one ! Blessed cure of social sorrow, On thy glorious message run. Till the nations cease from warfare Cease from cruel bloodshed's wrong ; Do the right and rise in greatness, In the Almighty's armour strong. MARY. f\YEET Aurora's purple ray In the orient court of day ; But my Mary's beauteous face Fairer shines in maiden grace. Sweet the breath of early morn From the scented hawthorn borne ; But Arabian spices blow Where my Mary's footsteps go. Sweet the flood of gushing song From the lark the clouds among ; But my Mary's echoing voice Makes the hills and dales rejoice. 124 Sweet the cadence of the song As the brooklet flows along ; So in love's sweet accents low Mary's voice doth softly flow. Modestly the daisy's eye Views the genial sun on high, And my bashful Mary flies From the gaze of vulgar eyes. Coy the little lambkin plays 'Mong its mates on flowery braes ; So my Mary, shy and coy, Finds in solitude her joy. Clear in frosty vault on high Shines the star's resplendent eye; So my Mary's orbs of sight Shine on me serenely bright. Calm the summer noontide air Fanning Nature's face so fair, And my Mary's tranquil mind Parallel can nowhere find. Innocent the playful child Whom no blot has yet defiled ; So my Mary's gentle heart Pain to no one would impart. Wee SLamb* 125 Nature's wealth remains untold None its limits can unfold ; Nor can I the virtues tell That within my Mary dwell. MY WEE LAMB. fHA'E a wee lamb in my flock, Wi' bricht chubby face all aglow, Who, when prayers are said, an' she's tucked snug in bed, Says : " Don't put the gas doon ower low." Dear child ! 'tis a parent that hears ; To answer he will not be slow ; So gently let sleep in her soft charge thee keep, And the gas won't be put doon ower low. Oh ! beauteous fair childhood in sleep, With innocence pure as the snow ; A cherub she lies, an' nae mair she cries " Noo, don't put the gas doon ower low." Sweet sleeper, with curls on thy brow, And the smile as thy dreams come an' go ; I'll watch o'er thy rest in thy cosy wee nest, And won't put the gas doon ower low. 126 zibe (Batrnep ^Sri^ge /IDemoriaU God grant that thy future in life May still be devoid of a foe j May a radiance divine o'er thy earthly path shine Which nought can eclipse or put low. An' when, as wi' a', Death at last His shadow shall o'er thy path throw, May the angels of glory to heaven point before thee, An' see that the gas is not low. THE GAIRNEY BRIDGE MEMORIAL. ERECTED 1884. HERE Leven's sparkling waters Reflect the azure sky, And the pheasant whirrs across the moor With wild and startled cry, The gathering crowds assemble By four converging ways, To honour with their presence The worth of bygone days. Unveil the granite pillar In shade of mountain ridge, That tells of noble Fathers Who met at Gairney Bridge. (Bairnes Brtboe fl&emoriaL 127 What time the Church of Scotland, Drowned in a death-like sleep, * In cold indifference forgot Her sacred trust to keep, The four Secession Fathers Their testimony reared, But sought not severance from the Church So long to them endeared. But hopeless was the struggle, And forth they went at length, High Heaven their guide and comforter, Their buckler and their strength. In lonely isolation They cast their eyes on high ; For one whole day to Zion's God They mightily did cry. This was their lone Peniel, But Jacob-like they sped, And forth they went for glorious work, Heaven's blessing on their head. * On account of Moderatism and the evils of Patronage. The Church of Scotland now takes a front place among the Churches in Christian activity. 128 ube (Batrne^ Brifcge flfcemoriaL And light at length came dawning On that small faithful band, With whom a blessing was bound up For Scotland's martyr land. The seed thus sown in sadness A glorious harvest yields, Which fills the land with gladness, And blesses foreign fields. The little morning cloud, No bigger than a hand, Has grown and burst in blessing On Scotland's favoured land. We deem it only right Our gratitude to show To those who fought this heavenly fight Thrice fifty years ago. Long may the granite pillar, On the lone mountain ridge, Tell of the noble Fathers Who met at Gairney Bridge ! Oh, Scotland ! rich in heroes, Who rose in every age, May still thy sons and daughters prize Their glorious heritage. , ZTempora t Blest is the land, in time of need, That can produce such men ; And may they still our fortunes lead, Should troubles rise again. Our Wallace still we venerate, Our Knox and martyred band, With whom the Four of Gairney Bridge From age to age shall stand. O, TEMPO RA! H, shade o' Jenny Geddes ! view This Nineteenth Century ; Oor Scottish Kirk has ta'en her cue Frae English liturgy. Their organs bum, their chants rin fast, An' " am ens " cap them a' ; Oh, Ichabod, the glory's past, Oor auld Kirk dwines a\va' ! It puts me in an awfu' stew Tae think that we should need Tae tak' a trip for fashions new Across the river Tweed. i 130 <), ZTempora! When Scotland's Kirk was in her youth, Her saintly men of old Proclaimed the pure and simple truth, Mair precious far than gold. Plain was the faith, devoid o' show, Tae oor forefathers given : They met by hillside, an' below The canopy o' heaven. An' there in simplest, grandest mode, They lowly bent the knee, An' held high converse wi' their God, Frae tawdry ritual free. Return, ye ancient days, return, When Peden prophesied, An' Cameron's light did clearly burn, An' slaughtered martyrs died. For better far a living Church, Tae witness in the land, Though Persecution's fiercest torch Should blaze on every hand Than live in sterile, barren ease, Tae worldly ways conformed, Wi' much tae tickle an' tae please, But hearts still untransformed. Ube Battle of tbe la&nocb. The costly organ, played wi' art, May charm the carnal ear, But 'tis the music o' the heart Which Heaven delichts tae hear. Such things as these cold hearts delight An' joy to them impart, But fairer in the Almighty's sight The broken, contrite heart. All worldly shows, howe'er refined, By Heaven unvalued are ; The meek devotion of the mind To Him is dearer far. THE BATTLE OF THE BLADNOGH, the verdant side of the Bladnoch's tide That hurries to the main, I take my stand on the sturdy land Where Galdus' chiefs were slain. In a waking dream the old times seem To call my thoughts away, And I muse and think on the river's brink Of Rome's imperial day ; 132 ube battle of tbe JBlafcnocb. When, with pride elate from victories great, Achieved in other lands, She throws her eyes on a northern prize Stern Scotia's Pictish bands. But the foe she'll meet brooks no defeat, So bravely they fight for home ; Each brawny hand wields a deadly brand, Fit match for the sword of Rome. As I think upon old Caledon, And her martial sons of old, My blood runs quick, and the visions thick Arise of her heroes bold. By the ancient stream whose waters gleam At the spot where now I stand, Met the serried ranks on its rushy banks Of Galloway's hardy band. At the army's head King Galdus led Galwegia's warlike sons ; By their valour fierce Rome's ranks they pierce, And the Bladnoch crimson runs. The fight is won, but the Scots bemoan Brave chiefs untimely slain ; And the stones they raise to their warlike praise Upstanding still remain. H' 1Reel*1Rawl 133 A' REEL-RAW L. fH dear tae me my biggin', free frae warldly care an' strife, An' my canty wee trig woman, wha's the partner o' my life, An' keeps my hoose in order, an' my bairnies young an aul', Not gran', but clean an' tidy, an' no a' reel-rawl. I've seen in mony a Scottish hame what pained an' made me sad A' things turned topsy-turvey an' confusion run quite mad ; Nae wonder that the husband soon strong drink wud fain enthral, For the cratur fin's nae comfort whaur its a' reel-rawl. I've gane tae hear a preacher try his han' upon a text, An' been sadly disappointed, an' my heart made unco' vexed, For his points got mixy-maxy, and defied ye tae recall The guid advice he gied ye, for 'twas a' reel-rawl. I've often heard a lawyer chiel his skill at pleading try, But oh ! dear me ! 'twas little wool an' vera muckle cry ; He thumped the table, shook his fist, an' loodly he did bawl, But he jumbled things throughither they were a' reel-rawl. Sometimes ye'll gang intae a shop on purpose goods tae buy, But perhaps upon the counter this an' that quite scattered lie ; 134 Ye'd fain select a cravat, or yer wife a Paisley shawl, But patience gets exhausted wi' things a' reel-rawl. I've seen full mony a short career by various tradesmen ran. For want o' due attention tae whate'er they took in han' ; I carena' though ye drive a quill or ply a cobbler's awl Tak' tent for fear that your affairs get a' reel-rawl. See ! there's a bonnie peacock lad gaun strutting in his pride; He's dressed sae gran' ye'd almost think tae kingship he's allied; He's but an obscure office-clerk gaun quickly tae the wall : Poor butterfly, what will ye dae when a's reel-rawl ? Then tak' the man wha sets his heart on paltry sordid pelf, Wha mak's his wealth his only god, an' leeves alone for self; Poor mammon-worshipper, full soon in tae yer grave ye'll fall, And spendthrift heirs may mak' yer wealth gang a' reel-rawl. I've heard a ban' o' music try tae play a wee bit tune, But oh ! sic want o' harmony, sic wild an' eldritch soun' ; Did ever a menagerie yer lugs sae much appal ? They're playing six an' sevens throughout, an' a* reel-rawl. I've seen a bonnie lassie that looked tidy, trim, an' neat ; Ye wad think she was perfection frae the croon doon tae her feet; But gang an' see the hoose she left tae pay her evening call ; I'll be bound ye'll get a scunner, for it's a' reel-raw!. H' 1Reel*1RawL 135 Supposing some young chappie in the toils o' Cupid's snare Tae some bonnie winsome lassie he wad fain his love declare , He screws his courage up, an' resolves to tell her all, But when he tries his sugared words they're a' reel-rawl. But the lassie's quick perception sees the laddie's meaning good, An' a wee bit mental effort shows his language understood ; An' a cheering glance o' kindness on her lover she lets fall, An' his words ha'e gained their purpose though they're a' reel-rawl. Some say that by yer writing they can tell yer traits o' mind, Tae place my faith in sic a thing I dinna feel inclined ; But if it's sae what maun we think o' mony a careless scrawl, But that the hand that wrote it sen's things a' reel-rawl ? A Scot has been tae England for the feck o' fivescore days, When he returns he speaks sae fine, we stare at what he says But whiles he trips, though glib o' tongue, wi' talking quite so tall, An' mixes Scotch an 5 English till it's a' reel-rawl. We sometimes meet a drouthy chiel wha's tongue can hardly wag, An' though a passive slave o' drink, o' great things he can brag In fac', "ush Britons ne'er were slaves, an' never, never shall!" O man, an' drink, an' words sae gran', ye're a' reel-rawl. 136 It's guid at times for country folks tae some big toon tae gang An' see the croods, baith heich an' laigh, incessant move alang; Such leevin' streams gaun pouring on, bewilder an' appal Folks pushing helter-skelter an' gaun a' reel-rawl. There's discontented folk the noo that think the warl's no richt ; O' folk grown rich an' folk o' rank they canna bear the sicht ; They think, wi' some that stump the Ian', on dukedoms they should fall, An' things be fair divided, an' no a' reel-rawl. But here's a grand mistake ; I think it wadna work ava' ; Some micht be carefu o' their share, an' ithers throw't awa'; An' then redistribution after some short interval : I'll be bound tae say things wad be worse, an' mair reel-rawl. Oh, no ! we winna pin oor faith tae sic' like fussy crew ; We'll keep tae auld originals ; and Nature's law sae true : See ! oceans big an' streamlets wee, an' mountains low and tail- In yae good sense Dame Nature's works are a' reel-rawl. An' God provides the rich man means tae help his lowly brither, An' ane maun work, an' ane maun pey sae maun they leeve thegither ; Let love's sweet silken cord tie a' in bond perpetual, An' each ane own the wisdom that mak's a' reel-rawl. H' 1Reel*1RawL is? Young lassies looking oot for men an' what young lass is not? This lesson learn attentively, an' see it's ne'er forgot, There's nocht a guidman pleases mair than taste methodical A' things baith bricht an' cheerie, an' no' a' reel-rawl. Is't possible a fam'ly leeves wi' discord in their hame ? If sae, there's something awfu' wrang there's something much tae blame : Should not affection mak' each hame a heaven terrestrial ? Hame feuds mak' perfect hell on earth, whaur a's reel- rawl. An' why should differences o' Kirks mak' their supporters foes? Religion pure an' undefiled no such unkindness knows : We all profess to love the Lord, an' love reciprocal Should ne'er be wanting, though the sects seem a' reel-rawl. An' sure am I it weel beseems each Burgh such as this Tae weld a' classes firm in ane, securing local bliss : Some may be rich, some may be poor, some in the interval, Yet each may help the ither though they're a' reel-rawl. Noo maybe ye may think, guid frien's, I'm talking awfu' rot, An' that it micht be better if sic' things I didna spot : It may be sae in measure great, but maybe after all, Some guid may come o' verses that are a' reel-rawl. 138 Sae my rhyme I mauna close withoot pointing oot its aim, An' I hope my readers every ane will kindly note the same In yer habits an' yer hooses, whether cot or lordly hall, Show that method is triumphant an' there's nocht reel-rawl. LOVE'S SPELL. f WALKED with Mary down the grove, Amid the tall and spreading beeches. And breathed the tender tones of love, Such as affection fondly teaches. The air breathed balmy fragrance sweet From blushing flowers all radiant springing ; The lark sprang joyous at our feet, And soared to heaven, his full notes singing. The hedge-rows with the snow did vie, With hawthorn clad in virgin whiteness ; The glowing evening's amber sky Gilt Nature's face with mellow brightness. The streamlet on its pebbly bed Low music murmured sweetly gliding ; Now glittering as it open sped, Now 'neath the sedge its beauty hiding. (Bfvetfo Ibis Beloveb Sleep/' 139 The birds upon the verdant sprays Poured forth their tuneful songs of gladness And all conspired the heart to raise, And banish every trace of sadness. And more than all that I could prize In Nature's beauteous scenes entrancing In kindness oft the hazel eyes Of my true love on me were glancing. Then, breathing pure affection's tale, When Cynthia had her crescent lighted, Two youthful hearts within that vale In bonds of love for aye were plighted. 5 HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." fwiLL both lay me down in peace and sleep, For Thou, Lord, only mak'st me safely dwell ; Thy wakeful eye shall o'er me vigil keep, Thy more than mother's love my fears dispel. How sweet, at close of each recurring day, To find a pillow on my Saviour's breast Whose soothing love shall smile my cares away, And calm my troubled spirit into rest. 140 ibe Givetb Ibis :fiSelo\>efc Sleep." Still tribulation in this world I find, And much there is to tempt my feet to stray ; For sin and pleasure strive the soul to bind, Or to entice it from the narrow way. Hard is the fight, and thorny is the way, But He who overcame is still my friend ; And having proved His love from day to day, I still shall strive to serve Him to the end. There is no ark upon earth's watery waste, In which my soul may fold her weary wing ; Nor can she find what satisfies her taste In flitting joys that from the earth do spring. But to the refuge of the weary soul, In times of danger and of need I look For strength to run straight to the Heavenly goal, And ne'er the thought of giving in to brook. I love Him, for He first set love on me, His service is the sweetest joy I know ; And in the cycles of eternity That joy shall blossom which I felt below. I onward move through life's still varying scenes, Assured my Heavenly Guide is by my side ; On nought but His strong arm my spirit leans, And with His help my soul is satisfied. " 1be <3i\?etb HMs Belovefc Sleep." ui Deep are my yearnings after God and Heaven A God of love a Home of service high ; And He who has the ardent longing given, In His good time the wish shall gratify. Not that this earth to me is void of charms, For all is fair in Nature's wide domains ; And love to God and to my dear ones warms My soul to useful work while life remains. But there the aspirations of the soul Shall have attained their highest, grandest aim ; And while eternal ages on shall roll The blessed service shall be still the same. And now He gives His own beloved sleep, His angels hover near my couch of rest ; Still shall His everlasting arms me keep, And nought shall e'er my tranquil sourmolest. And when the angels call my soul away, And here on earth I may no more abide ; I'll tread the mansions of eternal day, And with His likeness shall be satisfied. 142 Hulb Broutbs <3reen. AULD DROUTHY GREEN. ! woe tae the wearisome drappie o' drink That hurries its victims tae ruin's grim brink ; O' a' the poor victims that ever I've seen, Nane waukened my sorrow like Auld Drouthy Green. 'Tis the weary auld story that aft has been told Screw yer face first at drink, an' then tak' it quite bold, An' ye fin' that a viper ye took for a frien', An' yer coorse is still doonward like Auld Drouthy Green. I usena' the adjective tae her disgrace, An' much I wad dae tae improve her sad case ; But the body hersel', wi' the tears in her e'en, Adopted the title o' Auld " Drouthy" Green. She yinst had a hoose that was fu'some an' braw, But when the drink entered it dwindled awa' ; An' noo her bit hame that was cheerie an' bien Has gane tae the dogs wi' poor Auld Drouthy Green. She seems quite content tae stan' by an auld tub, An' the claes o' a neebour tae wash an' tae scrub ; But her liking for drink is sae awfully keen That it swallows the earnings o' Aiild Drouthy Green. Hwa ^Travellers, 143 Sae helpless a victim she lies on the street ; By turns she will lauch, an' by turns she will greet, Till the " bobbies ' ; come up, then in state like a queen Tae the jail on a barrow rides Auld Drouthy Green. It grieves me tae think that there's folk that will gae The drink tae the cratur that mak's her sae wae ; What like is their heart ? it is hardened, I ween, Else they wadna' sink deeper poor Auld Drouthy Green. Auld " Drouthy's " a warning tae baith great and sma' Frae drink's fell delusion tae keep far awa', An' never tae tamper wi' what wad demean An' mak' them the equals o' Auld Drouthy Green. Oh ! sister, awake tae a sense o' yer shame ; Tak' up, and ye'll soon get anither bit hame, An' there's Yin wha' will aye prove the Magdalene's frien', An' rescue frae vice e'en poor Auld Drouthy Green. THE TWA TRAVELLERS. travellers passed on the crooded street, On the crooded street o' Jerusalem; Tae the Temple's gate they addressed their feet, An' every e'e was fixed on them. 144 ftbe Uwa ^Travellers. The yin he was a prood Pharisee, An' strutted alang wi' his head m' high ; A big an' a lofty man was he, Saluted by every passer-by. He floated alang like a peacock gran', An' spurned the brither that followed behin', For he was the holiest in the Ian' : His low-born brither was steeped in sin. The Temple gained, he throws his eyes Aloft tae the heavens in holy pride ; An', defying the warl', he boldly cries ! " Boasts earth a holier man beside ? " O ! arrogant man, wi' that look elate, Hoo little ye ken o' yer wicked heart ; Did grace but reveal yer ain true state, The sicht, I fear, wad gar ye start. Nae doot but ye think yer a guidly wicht, As ye stan' at the head o' the Temple stairs ; But ye robbed the widow's hoose last nicht, An' the widow's wail micht hush yer prayers. Dae ye think ye can shun the searching gaze O' the E'e that sees the heavens unclean ? Tak' a look at yer heart, wi' blank amaze, An' mony a sin will there be seen. flfcafees a flfcan ? 145 The Almichty's ear is closed tae you, Though yer prayers are as lang's yer phylacteries ; Till grace yer stubborn heart can boo, Ye're only feeding yer soul on lees. But the ither man beat a penitent breast, An' prone on the earth his een he bent ; 'Twas the surest road that he took tae rest, An' his soul was blessed as away he went. Sae judged the Lord, wha should ken best, An' the prood man aye abased shall be ; But the humble heart shall still be blest Wi' the guid things o' eternity. WHAT MAKES A MAN ? HAT makes a man ? 'Tis not a regal state, With trains obsequious on his will to wait With power to form what selfishness may plan This is not that which constitutes a man. What makes a man ? 'Tis not the warrior's art, Curse of the widow's and the orphan's heart ; Whose terrors make the nations pale and wan This is not that which constitutes a man. K 146 Mbat /Ifcafees a What makes a man ? 'Tis not the wealth of mines, The yellow gold, the gem that sparkling shines ; Though with the race the chase for wealth began, Yet little part it plays in making man. What makes a man ? 'Tis not extent of ground, Where Nature's choicest products may be found; With sylvan scenes, sweet as the eye can scan These may be fair, but these make not the man. What makes a man ? 'Tis not the courtly stride, The form well-shaped, the heart elate with pride; Such peacock airs may simple hearts trepan, But have no place in making of a man. What makes a man? 'Tis heart and soul alone; All other standards we must still disown ; Pile high what other qualities you can, They only clothe, they never make a man. Stand forth, true worth ! and hold thy head erect, High Heaven respects thee, though all else neglect; Those noble deeds performed in life's brief span, Eternally shall prove thee A True Man ! Wbat /iDafees a OToman ? 1*7 WHAT MAKES A WOMAN ? 'HAT makes a woman ? Is it beauty's charm That can alone our admiration warm ? Nay, beauty only forms a meagre store, And woman, to be true, needs something more. What makes a woman ? Not to clamour loud For fancied rights among the giddy crowd ; Her modest nature and her gentle sex No public question was designed to vex. What makes a woman ? Is it idle ease, To pamper self, and every wish to please ; To blaze in jewels, nightly balls attend? Nay, noble women nobler effort spend. What makes a woman ? Is it to ensnare A crowd of suitors by her beauty's glare ? What boots such conquests but to show a mind Spurned as unworthy by true womankind ! What makes a woman ? Hear, and I will tell : Her sphere is home, where father, mother dwell ; Where brother, sister, husband, children live, There may she find full scope her powers to give. 148 Wfoat /Ifcafees a Woman? That makes a woman ; thafs her proper sphere, And all her virtues are developed here ; A duteous child, or sister's loving care, Makes even the plainest visage wondrous fair. For beauty has its lodgment in the heart, And thence it permeates each other part, And shows to all who have discerning eyes A face as lustrous as Italian skies. Talk not of queens who sway submissive hosts, A kingdom hers which nobler conquests boasts ; Her wisdom in her household stands confessed, Husband and child arise and call her blest. Warmed by affection, and impelled by love, An angel from the blessed skies above, She beams her glances from maternal eyes, And scatters perfumed flowers of paradise. Nor does she seek her own alone to bless, But feels for all in want or dire distress, And with a heart of sympathetic glow, Is ever glad her bounty to bestow. Thank God, such women in our land are found, Scattering their blessed influence all around ; Be these the moulders of our future men, And in their daughters reproduced again. TTbe TKHicjtown Craws* THE WIGTOWN CRAWS. E needna boast (Yer labour's lost) O' senates that can mak' oor laws ; We've men o' pith, Oor kin an' kith, That e'en can seal the fate o' craws. In early Spring On joyous wing, The craws tae big their nests prepare, An' some think fit Tae brood an' sit Upon the trees in Wigtown Square. Some yin or twa, When this they saw, Thocht Wigtown was deserted like, An' that the place Endured disgrace, An' that a gun should scale the byke. This crisis grave Must trial have : The craws may think they're high in place, When those in po'er Raise sic a stour Tae wipe awa' the black disgrace. 150 ube Motown Craws* The Cooncil sate In high debate On sundry matters, great an' sma' ; Like business men, They weel did ken Tae settle questions richt awa'. Nocht cam* amiss Tae men like this, An' well each Gordian knot they cut, Like steam machine, As we ha'e seen, They'll crunch up stanes or crack a nut. M'Laren's bill, Wi' richt guid will They vote for as a righteous cause ; An' next took place, Wi' serious face, The trial o' the Wigtown craws. They're branded pests For biggin' nests Upon the Wigtown Square trees high ; An' some wad shoot An' clean uproot Each craw that dared tae yaup sae nigh. The craws, puir things ! Micht stretch their wings, An' for a lengthened flicht prepare, TOistown Craws* 151 If such fierce men Could win their en', An' spill their bluid in Wigtown Square. But by guid luck, Wi' manly pluck, The gallant Leader took their pairt, An' some few mair, Wi' courage rare, Wad shield the craws wi' a' their heart. But for a while, In painfu' style, Their fate in dootfu' balance hung ; An' Cooncillors sage Got in a rage, An' words at yin anither flung. The sides grew warm, An' raise like barm, An* soun's o' battle filled the air : Ye needna smile, 'Twas worth the while, The prize the corbies in the Square. The battle keen Was focht, I ween, An' fair the field divided was ; An' ne'er an inch Did any flinch, But acted worthy o' the cause. 152 iResponse to Uoast of "Ube An' noo at length, Wi' a' his strength, The Leader on his foemen fa's ; His casting vote Completely smote The foes o' a' the trembling craws. Wi' lood applause The joyfu' craws Ha'e ta'en the air on gladsome wing, An' every year, When they appear, The gallant Leader's praise they sing. An' noo they craw, An' big awa', An^unmolested a' they be ; An' high o'erhead, Ye'd think they said : " The gen'rous Leader, lang live he ! " RESPONSE TO TOAST OF " THE PRESS." Press of Britain " is a noble toast, Though to reply no fitness I can boast ; Yet in a patriot's mind few words, I guess, Awake such memories as the words " The Press." Dim through the vista of the bygone years One venerable pioneer appears : Hulfc Wives' ffricbt 153 'Tis William Caxton, who, with skilful hand, The parent press erected in the land. Ah ! little dreamt he what a giant brood His germ produced, to work us lasting good ! For with a Titan's strength the mighty Press Toils day and night each grievance to redress ; Helps forward Science and Religion's reign, Bringing the sweets of Freedom in its train ; Checks home sedition, and, with Argus eye, Each foreign machination can descry, And, with unerring instinct, well divine What would our country's fabric undermine : With such a Press, " Britannia rules the waves ; " With such a Press, her sons can ne'er " be slaves.' THE AULD WIVES' FRIGHT. fHERE was a man ca'd Bailie Smith, An' my informant saith That though he leeved on Wigtown Hill, He died for want o' breath. He jogged through life without a wife To ease his care an' toil ; But ancient Jean his hoose kept clean, An' made his pot to boil. 154 ftbe Hulfc Wives' ffticbt When he was dead, his corpse was laid In coffin ben the room ; An' twa-three neebour wives cam' in To cheer Jean's waefu' gloom. Such frien'ly feelings to requite, Jean spread the festive board Wi' dainties which the Bailie's press In ample measure stored. An' doucely noo they sit them doon An' sip the wee drap scad ; Nae indication did they gie That oucht had made them sad. The gossip o' the country roun' Got ventilation due ; While Jean still presses on them a' Their teacups to renew. Eh ! what was that that gied a rap ? Oh! Jean, what gars ye start? What mak's the auld wives look sae wan, An' terror seize their heart ? Within the chamber o' the dead, Though bolted was the door, It seemed some hard an' horny feet Were pattering on the floor. Huft Wives' jfricbt 155 What thochts passed through the auld wives' minds I'se no pretend to tell ; But wi' a speed beyond their years They fled the hoose pell-mell. The ootside air their courage braced, An', after short debate, They a' resolved straight back to gang, An' prove their utmost fate. Yin bolder than her frien's agreed The bedroom to assail, Provided at her back the rest Should stand, nor quake nor quail. So on they moved richt cautiously, As if they walked on ice ; Nor word was said, nor soun' was made They a' were quate as mice. Inside they heard the pattering noise Of active, restless feet ; Oh ! what if something past the door Uncanny should them meet ? Then catching yin anither's claes, An' huddlin' close thegither, They crept alang wi' bated breath, An' mony a fear an' swither. 156 Ube Butt Mines' ffrtcbt " Noo, wull I dae't ? " the leader sighs, Wi' han' upon the door; The patterin' answered back they rushed, As they had rushed before. Again the captain slowly moves The handle o' the door; Sae deep the silence, you micht hear A pin fall on the floor. When half-way opened was the door, Quick roon its edge appeared Twa fiery een, twa sword-like horns, An' shaggy, grizzly beard. Lood screamed the crones in horror's plicht, An' motionless they stood. " Auld Nick ! " quo' Jean, when she could speak, " Or else his hellish brood ! " Yae canny auld wife's pawky sense Here stood her in guid place : " Fie ! don't misca' him wi' sic names Juist fair afore his face." It took some time ere they cam' to, Sae sair had they been frichtened j But bit by bit, an' by degrees, They slowly were enlichtened. 157 When fairly back their senses cam', The mystery was explained A goat the window open found, And easy access gained. And on the Bailie's coffin-lid His horny cloots did patter; And this the cause was o' the fricht, An a* the auld wives' clatter. WYC LI FFE. WRITTEN FOR THE QUINCENTENARY OF HIS DEATH. 'HEN darkness such as might be felt Had settled down on England's face, And Papal bondage sought to keep In chains the Anglo-Saxon race ; When Rome's voracious coffers claimed The tax King John agreed to pay, And haughty prelates tried their best To make the land an easy prey; When swarms of monks and friars drained The land of what was rich and rare, And, wanton and licentious grown, Spread moral taint upon the air ; 158 'Mid such a gloom true hearts were sad ; Yet prayer, u the Christian's vital breath," Arose from many an earnest soul That Heaven would break this sleep of death. And He who at Creation's dawn Said " Let light be ! " and there was light, Had good in store for England yet, And soon would dissipate the night. And so across the eastern hills One streak of light was seen afar, And God-provided WycluTe rose " The Reformation's morning star." Hail to the bold and fearless man The pioneer of England's weal ! Who stirred the senate of the land With all a patriot's burning zeal ; And roused the nation to a man, From monarch to the humble swain, And, with a giant's mighty force, Snapt Rome's imperious servile chain ; And gave the people God's own Word In Chaucer's native mother tongue, Which, with an energy divine, Rome's superstitions backward flung. 159 Balked now of England as her prey, Rome puny vengeance sought to wreak ; But Heaven's own aegis barred the way And rendered all her efforts weak. We think of one, with grateful heart, And of his aid we gladly vaunt, Who Wycliffe' s valiant henchman stood The noble-minded John of Gaunt. We see the bold Reformer raise His sickly body from his bed, And, when Rome's agents bade recant, Hurl stern defiance on their head. 'Twas left to Rome, with impious hand, His bones from out the grave to take, And burn the passive relics dear, As if he suffered at the stake ! 'Twas but in keeping with the game, When foiled, she always likes to play ; But Wycliffe sowed immortal seed Whose blessed fruit we reap to-day. 'Tis fitting, though five hundred years Have come and gone since Wycliffe died, That we should still his memory love Who England's deadliest foes defied. 160 zrfoe Dictorp of General Stewart THE VICTORY OF GENERAL STEWART, fwELL loud the ringing cheer, Each loyal British man, For victory's cry is wafted nigh From the plains of the far Soudan. All hail to the victor chief Of the royal Scottish name ! All hail to his men, for their prowess again Has heightened our British fame ! They have shown that the martial fire, That burned in their sires of yore, Beats an ardent flame and is still the same, Unquenched for evermore ! We boast Trafalgar's fight, We boast of Waterloo; But at Abu Klea our troops, we see, Can show like valour too. The weary march nigh done, O'er Egypt's arid plain, The hardy band 'neath Stewart's command Metammeh fain would gain. ZTbe IDictors of General Stewart 'Twas thrice five hundred strong No numerous host, I trow ; But beneath each vest beat a patriot's breast, So steadily on they go To meet the swarthy hordes That thick infest the land Brave sons of Mars and valiant tars, Ranged under skilled command. What means yon black array That scours the sloping height ? 'Tis the enemy's force, with murmur hoarse, And the British stand for fight. A phalanx firm is formed, On which, like furious gale, The enemy swarm and fiercely storm, But vainly they assail! They came like the avalanche, Or the towering crested wave ; But the British spear and a British cheer A warm reception gave ! Though staggered by the shock, The British close again ; With sword and gun the fight is won, And thickly lie the slain. 162 ube Dictors of (Beneral Stewart Oh ! grand the vict'ry gained By those bold hearts and true ! Their foemen then were thousands ten A rough but valiant crew. The British lion, roused, Rushed on his hapless prey, With mighty roar the foe he tore, Who, vanquished, prostrate lay. Here, at our ease at home, We little reck, I ween, What toils they brave who fight to save Their country and their Queen. All honour to them then, We cheer them loudly now ; Their laurels green well pleased we've seen Placed on their country's brow. Still let Britannia rule As mistress of the sea ; Each son aspire to raise her higher 'Mong nations of the free ! In sorrow and in pain, The generous tear drop we For heroes brave their lives who gave That day at Abu Klea. tTbe Wigtown female /IDartprs, 163 THE WIGTOWN FEMALE MARTYRS. When the road along which the martyrs were led to the stakes was pointed out to the late Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee, he exclaimed, with much feeling, "Ah ! that was their Via Dolorosa, or pathway of suffering" referring to the Saviour's path to Calvary. fHEY led them along on their dolorous way To the sandy shore of the Wigtown Bay, And the surging crowd, as it marched along, Pierced the air with wailings bitter and strong, For the victims were of the tender sex, Whom the ribald ungodly sought to vex ; In the heat of their deadly, fiendish rage, They mocked at the pleadings of youth and age. 'Twas a time when allegiance to Zion's King Was followed by death as a traitorous thing ; When the " land of brown heath and shaggy wood " Was enriched by the stream of the martyrs' blood ; And it seemed as if Scotland were doomed as the prey Of the alien prelates who ruled the day, And freedom of conscience would fain have exiled From her grand old mountains stern and wild ; And where was the hill, or the cavern, or dale, That had not its sainted martyrs' tale ? For the bloody Clavers, and Wtnram, and Lagg, Of their murderous work could loudly brag, And braved the vengeance of angry Heaven, As their numerous victims to death were given. The sun shone bright on the Bladnoch stream, And the birds sang sweet in its cheering beam ; 164 zrbe Mia town female The cattle lowed by the grassy shore, And lulled into peace was the Solway's roar ; High overhead, in the azure blue, The lark, singing loud, still higher flew, And the honeyed bee fled lazily by, With its gathered store on its well-packed thigh ; The sea-fowl screamed, as aloft he flew Over the bay with its waters blue ; The eternal hills as they swept along, Opposed a barrier firm and strong To the restless beat of the angry waves, What time old Neptune in fury raves ; And proudly high above all the rest, The lofty Cairnsmore reared his crest. The balmy perfume of table land Filled the ambient air from Barsalloch's strand ; The earth, the sea, the sky, the air, On that lovely day were wondrous fair. O God ! that an act so ghastly vile Should a scene so lovely as this defile, As that which the persecutor's rage Was about to wreak on youth and age ! The younger victim, a maiden meek, Wore a chilling pallor upon her cheek ; But the calm composure that lit up her eye Could the deadliest hate of her foes defy. Slender and fair was her youthful form, Like a tender flower in the pitiless storm, But there dwelt in her bosom the dove of rest, In her Saviour's love supremely blest ; TTbe Mistown ^female flfcartprs. 165 And death to her soul could cause no fear, Though dressed in terrors he should appear. By her side is an aged matron borne, From her peaceful home in Drumjargon torn ; Bent low, and feeble, and stiff with age, Unfit to cope with the enemy's rage. Ah ! the deadly hate of these dismal times Ne'er shrank from the foulest of human crimes ; Alike it alighted on youth and age Men, women, and children, felt its rage. To the river at length the crowd have sped ; They have set up the stakes in its deepest bed The victims are tied by unfeeling hands, In obedience to Winram's stern commands. The sands re-echo with wailings loud From the stricken hearts of the sorrowful crowd ; But the victims are calm, and, in meek adoration, They lift up their hearts to the God of Salvation ; And the soft, sweet sounds of the virgin's voice Evince that the saint even in death can rejoice; And the plaintive notes of the penitent psalm Fell on wounded hearts as a sovran balm : Anon the gracious Word of the Lord, True peace, and comfort, and joy afford ; And the prayer of faith takes its steady flight, Ascending as incense in Jesus' sight. * Slowly the tide, in its inward course, With ripple, and gurgle, and murmur hoarse, Rises and hurries the spirits away From the lifeless forms of inanimate clay. 166 zrbe /l&en /Ifoart^rs of The struggle is past, and the kingdom won. Brave women ! Heaven's armies have shouted, "Well done!"" ' Well done ! " We shall take up the joyful refrain ; " Well done !" shall be echoed again and again, Till tyrants have learned that though limbs may be bound, No chain for the conscience has ever been found ; For Heaven's sacred truth shall for ever prevail, Though the scoffer and infidel storm and assail. Let us ever be true to the martyrs' faith, And hold out for Christ, though it be unto death. THE MEN MARTYRS OF WIGTOWN. >& IS a tale of poor Scotland's sorrow in the days of the long ago, When her heathery hills re-echoed with the sounds of mourning and woe ; When the bands of ungodly made havoc of all that was. sacred and dear, And thought to force hearts that were loyal by bloodshed, and murder, and fear : When the troops of the bloody Clavers, in league with the tyrant of hell, Scoured the country in search of their victims on whom their ferocity fell, TTbe /Ifeen /l&artsrs of Motown* 167 When the Christian name was occasion for the godless to plunder and kill, And Scotland's poor heart was heard throbbing in valley, and cavern, and hill. She seemed like the deer of her forests, when hounded and chased to the death, And the blood of her bravest and truest was spilt like a flood on the heath, And the days seemed but getting the darker, and the storm- cloud seemed settling down, And vain seemed the prospect of help when the foe was backed up by the crown. Then thousands, the best of the land, were hunted by merciless men From all the endearments of home to the cave and the mountain and glen, Where they worshipped the God of their fathers beneath the blue azure of heaven, And their vows from their bosoms in sadness to the God of Salvation were given. Still they lost not their faith in their God, but reposed 'neath His shadowing wings, For they knew that His arm raised the humble, and brought down the glory of kings, That though weeping might last for the night, yet the morning would gladness reveal, And they grudged not their blood if but only it tended to Scotia's weal. 168 zrfoe flDen /i&artsrs of Wigtown, 'Twas a time which all lovers of Scotland regard with affec- tion and pride, As the time when, for rights of the conscience, our fore- fathers suffered and died, That the glorious heirloom of freedom might pass on from father to son, And the spirit of man be untrammelled as long as the ages shall run. On the drowsy, dull ear of the lieges the bell of the old burgh town Ushered in a bright day in sweet nature, but one with a mournful renown, For the minions of Clavers were present to wreak all their vengeance and wrath, And his bloodhounds had heard the loud war whoop, his troopers were on the war-path. Alas ! what a savage is man when by demons his soul is possessed Let the trials of Scotland of old in the stern killing ages attest- When John Brown of Priesthill was shot, in the face of his children and wife, And the two female martyrs of Wigtown were cruelly robbed of their life. Ah ! these were the times when in earnest religion's profes- sion was taken ; When a faith that was lightly assumed was full soon but too lightly forsaken ; /l&en flDartprs ot Wigtown* 169 When sincerely to stand up for Christ was to risk tribula- tion and sorrow ; But the heroes that stood up to-day, to the Lord left the cares of to-morrow. Fell Winram, the scourge of the district, had hurried his troopers away, To scour over valley and mountain in search of their fugitive prey; Like sleuth hounds upon the fell death track, they scented both upland and lea, And along the bleak MinnigafT hills, and the deep wooded margin of Cree. And at last, by a traitorous friend (may his deed meet eternal disgrace), The searchers their victims have found in the depths of their lone hiding-place, And with scoffing, derision, and laughter, exchanged in their turn by a frown, They fastened their manacles on them, and marched to the old burgh town. The sun the meridian had passed, and hastened apace to the west, The lieges cared little for work, for their minds were with sorrow oppressed ; And though nature appeared in her charms, and seemed to bid mortals be glad, These charms only heightened the sorrow of hearts that were blighted and sad. 170 Ube fl&en /IDartprs of Wigtown, In the still of that bright afternoon there was heard the dragoons' heavy tread, As the victims they seized in the cave through the streets of the burgh were led, And the townsfolk with grief smote their breasts, and an unspoken prayer sent to Heaven, That bravely the captured might quit them, though the soul from the body be riven. The captives were humble of birth ; sons of toil, they were lowly in station, But their class has done much in all time to make Scotland a glorious nation ; And here they were nobles of Heaven, standing up for the cause of their Lord, For whose sake they were willing to brave all the terrors of fire and sword. To Winram, the scoffer, they led them 'twas a march to the grim lion's den, But they flinched not a whit for his rigour, but quit them like valorous men. " Ha ! " loudly he cried, when he saw them, " more fish in the net here, I trow ; Brave hinds of the soil, we shall hear you ; your story we'll take from you now." With faces illumed from on high, all composed and majestic they stood, Their countenance calm and serene, their brave loyal hearts unsubdued ; /l&en fl&artsrs ot Wigtown, m " Oh, tyrant ! we fear not the worst, for our trust in the Lord we have placed, And for freedom of conscience we care not though death's bitter cup we should taste." Stern Winram but mocked at a trial ; for justice he cared not a straw ; They were hill's folk and loyal to Jesus, and doomed in the eye of the law ; So back to the dungeon so dreary, to wait till the next dawning day, They were ordered by Winram the cruel, to linger the slow hours away. Full many a heart that same evening was wrung in the old burgh town, And, in answer to prayers long and fervent, the grace of the Lord was poured down, Refreshing the hearts of the loyal the three lone con- fessors so brave, Whom now no bold effort of man could pluck from the jaws of the grave. O'er the top of the lofty Cairnsmore, Aurora her crimson spread, And soon as the hours advanced shone the rays of the sun o'erhead ; The landscape was one of beauty, and fair to the eye it lay, But sorrow was busy in Wigtown for what would be done that day. 172 ube /l&en fl&art^rs ot Motown. In front of the old Tolbooth three gibbets you might have seen, Erected in haste by Winram for his bloody work, I ween ; And further on with halters the victims are borne along, But, save the bloodthirsty soldiers, no crowds to the spec- tacle throng. The burghers, with sorrow deep stricken, remained in their houses that day; That their brethren might bear up like heroes, to the God of Salvation they pray ; And they beat loyal bosoms for Zion, so wofully scattered and peeled, And sigh that her breaches, deep widening, might soon in His mercy be healed. And soon was the deed enacted, oh! valorous men are ye The tools of a wretched government the hirelings of tyranny : But know in the breasts of Scotsmen burns the never-dying flame, That lived in the hearts of their fathers, and vain were your deeds of shame. That night there was no sleep for Winram, though stretched on his bed of down, For the day's bloody work rose before him defying his curse and his frown ; /I&en /iDartprs of Mfgtown. 173 And at midnight three ghosts at his bedside, all sheeted, and ghastly, and pale, Their fingers straight pointing to judgment, his ear with these words did assail : "Poor mortal! thy days are but short, and quick to thy doom thou must go, For to judgment thy soul shall repair ere yon mountains are capped with the snow ; Oh! bitter the harvest to reap from the seed thou hast sown upon earth Ten thousand times better for thee that thou ne'er hadst been brought to the birth!" Ne'er more on this beautiful earth did joy on his counte- nance light ; His mind fed on terrors by day, and brooded on horrors by night ; Unhappy, and cheerless, and sad, he soon made his way to the tomb, And treaded the mazes of death that lead to the murderer's doom. Oh, well may we boast of these three who lustre on Scot- land have cast ; We will never forget what they suffered, brave heroes in time of the past : Remembrance of them shall be fresh while Galloway's mountains are green, And the daisy and thistle and bluebell on her fair verdant bosom are seen. 174 $i*Centenar of Wigtown THE BI-CENTENARY OF THE WIGTOWN MARTYRS, 23RD MAT, 1885. (Which corresponds to llth May, Old Style.) two hundred years have winged their rapid flight Since Wigtown's saddest vision filled the scene : 'Tis well to pause, and to recall the sight, With no blind prejudice to intervene. When tyranny the conscience sought to chain, And forced Christ's kingship from its lawful throne ; When Prelacy its alien ends would gain, And for the bread of life held out a stone. When pastors, true to every sacred vow, Were " outed " from the kirks they loved so well, And with their followers sought the mountain brow The story of redeeming love to tell. When loyal hearts, to Heaven and duty true, Could not submit to bear the foreign yoke, But, bold in that which conscience bade them do, Braved puny man, if but Jehovah spoke. Then, when the land her rights had well-nigh lost, Appeared our Martyr women, Martyr men, Who gave their lives a noble holocaust ! To win dear Scotland's freedom back again. Brave heroines ye were ! brave heroes ye ! No prize so precious ever patriot won : When shall our race stand forth divinely free, And human trammels be for ever done ? Hlone will Stank 175 This day to Wigtown do the crowds repair, And scan our local story's blood-stained page A tale that tells of courage high and rare, That " stemmed the current of a downward age." Unlike the transient shower of fading flowers Which loving hands cast on their hallowed tomb, Deep in our children's hearts, and deep in ours The memory of their sacrifice shall bloom. MOTIVE ALONE WILL STAND. fAK' care in a* ye say an' do, Ye dinna' coort the public view, But mind, when bounteous deeds ye plan, Nae motive but what's guid will stan'. We shouldna' let our left han' ken What wi' oor richt we try tae fen' ; If ower oor deeds oor e'e we ran, We'd mind the motive that will stan'. Big seeming generous sums we meet On mony a hawked subscription-sheet ; But if the heart we just could scan, We'd miss the motive that will stan'. E'en in religion oft we see Profession veil hypocrisy, For specious deeds too oft trepan, That motive want tae mak' them stan'. 176 pep as How hollow in oor Saviour's days Were deeds which Pharisees could praise ? Their only aim was sicht o' man Nae motive had they that wad stan'. See the poor widow at the plate, Though her donation wasna' great, Yet He wha underneath could scan, The motive saw that weel could stan'. In such a weary warld as this, Thrice happy he who seeks tae bliss Those under dire misfortune's ban Wi' motive pure that weel may stan' ! At the last day, when deeds are tried, Nae wark will then yae moment bide That hasna' that which mak's it gran' The motive that alone can stan'. PEY AS YOU GO. f HERE'S a source o' great mischief abounds in our time, Breeding ills without number, whiles leading tae crime ; That evil is credit for debts that we owe, When a wee bit exertion would pey as we go. 'Tis fatal delusion tae pit aff a debt ; 'Tis manly tae face it, a riddance tae get ; And yer life ever after will tranquilly flow, Sae grand is the principle pey as you go. as H)CM 60. 177 It may be that business wi' some folk wad stick If they hadna the option of going on tick ; But "tick" brings accounts when oor funds may be low, And we grieve for omitting tae pey as we go. There's the douce working man wi' a hirsel' o' weans, An' a thrifty bit wife wha his weekly wage hains : He fears na the stroke o' fell Poverty's blow, He has lost nocht by acting on " Pey as ye go." Nay, by such a habit yer sure tae lay by ; Ye'll fin' this the case if you only will try ; For yer state o' affairs at a glance you will know, An' ye'll see the advantage o' " Pey as you go." 'Tis easy tae slip intae debt here an' there, An' tae think it is only a trifle nae mair ; But a host o' accounts, like a merciless foe, Will read us a lesson in " Pey as ye go." Full mony a man has put aff the ill day, An' thocht that at last he wad manage tae pay ; But the seed-time o' debt brings a harvest o' woe The reverse o' what follows frae " Pey as ye go." If ye canna afford what yer fancy wad hae, Be manly an' honest, an' boldly say Nay ! Ne'er leeve past yer income, for if you do so, Advice will be needless tae " Pey as ye go." Oh ! sair are the thochts o' the man that's in debt ; Nae wonder he's peevish, an' aften will fret ; But a pure satisfaction for ever will flow In the heart that is loyal tae " Pey as ye go." M 178 Bob tfce JSantfe. BOB THE BANTIE. ' HEN Winter's breath blew sharp an' snell, An' saft the fleecy snaw-flakes fell, We lost a pet the bairns lo'ed well Wee Bob the Bantie. Wi' feathers white as driven snaw, An' form erect, though unco sma', A trigger fowl ye never saw Than Bob the Bantie. He seemed without a single flaw, An' hoo he'd streek his neck an' craw I liked the cock-a-leerie-law O' Bob the Bantie. Escorting oot his numerous harem, Should ony envious neebor dare 'em, His feathers aff his back he'd tear 'em Oor bauld wee Bantie. Through eight lang years he ran his race ; But age soon made him slacken pace, An* dwining symptoms we could trace On Bob the Bantie. He seemed quite traiky, dull, an' sad, An' nocht we did could mak' him glad ; His case, in trowth, was very bad Puir Bob the Bantie ! ZTfoe Deatb of General Stewart 179 Yae nicht when Bob seemed near his en' Kind hands the kitchen brocht him ben, Tae see if heat the case wad men' O' Bob the Bantie. But, puir wee chap ! 'twas a' in vain ; He jamp an' struggled sair wi' pain, Till death at length claimed as his ain Oor dear wee Bantie. I wot there were red een that nicht, For sair the bairnies grat an' sich't, An' sorrow clouded faces bricht For Bob the Bantie. Sic grief becam' their young hearts weel ; Bob was God's cratur, puir wee chiel ! An' craturs should for craturs feel Like this wee Bantie. *An' when, upon the following morrow, Wee Bob frae earth a grave did borrow, Young hearts, I ween, did truly sorrow For Bob the Bantie. THE DEATH OF GENERAL STEWART. RITANNIA hangs her head, Disconsolate is she, And mourns the knight who won the fight At far-off Abu Klea. 180 zifoe Deatb of General Stewart. Galwegia proudly claims His honoured pedigree, And boasts her son it was who won The fight at Abu Klea. He scarce was in his prime Like sun at noonday he Sank in the night who won the fight At distant Abu Klea. Where late his troops he led To glorious victory, Down to the grave has dropt the brave At far-off Abu Klea. In that lone desert spot, What though no eye there be With friendship's tear to wet the bier Of him of Abu Klea? A nation throws its eyes Beyond the azure sea, And inly weeps for him who sleeps Not far from Abu Klea. Land of the leal and true, Land of the brave and free, May heroes bold thy name uphold, Like him of Abu Klea. Sound be the hero's sleep, Peaceful his slumbers be, The scroll of fame still hold the name Of him of Abu Klea. (Bfrls o' Oallowa', THE GIRLS O' GALLOWA'. fAE mair tae me the praises sing O' big toon lasses grand and braw, Tae beat them a' a score I'll bring Frae 'mang the hills o' Gallowa'. Nae artificial beauty shows Upon our hame-born lasses a' ; They're genuine as the fragrant rose That scents the meads o' Gallowa'. Some show a plump an* sonsy girth, An' some are handsome, trig, an' sma', But a' alike are Beauty's birth The smiling girls o' Gallowa'. In virtue bred an' honest toil, Tae every usefu' wark they fa' j Nae mawkish notions ere can spoil The thrifty girls o' Gallowa'. The king that reigns in grandest style, Wi' trains obsequious at his ca', Micht envy me the blissfu' smile O' my sweet maid o' Gallowa'. Lang may the breeze o'er mountain peak An' flowery meadow gently blaw, An' wake the roses on the cheek O' every maid in Gallowa'. 182 Jones's JONES'S BABY. neighbour Jones popped in one day, And thus to me he said, " My dear old boy, 'twill cause you joy To know I'm going to wed ! " Down dropt my pipe out of my mouth And smashed upon the floor ; Had Jones dealt me a heavy blow He could not stun me more. " You going to wed at your great age ? I'm sure you're fifty-four." " Ah ! but," he said, " I never met So sweet a girl before. " She's only forty, and you know She is an only daughter ; Now, am I not a happy dog That to myself have got her ? " She's lots of tin and beauty too At least to my fond eyes : Oh, yes, dear Smith, upon my word I've got a splendid prize." Thinks I, old Jones has got some pluck, And well has played his part ; So happiness I wished them both, Without an envious heart. Jones's And spliced they got, and happy were In all the ways of life, And none could say who happier was The husband or the wife. But dear old Jones went nearly mad With pure excess of joy, When Mrs. Jones presented him With one dear chubby boy. And all the neighbours called to see The little son and heir : Could two fond parents happier be Than this same loving pair ? Said Mrs. Brown, in moving tones, As if she fain would cry, " Oh, bless the little cherub dear, He's got his father's eye." Then Mrs. Green came sailing up, And, with a graceful bow, Said, "What a dome of thought is there! He's got his father's brow." And Mrs. White threw up her hands As from her seat she rose : " He'll be a man of eminence ; He's got his father's nose." I quite forget who next sprang up, But she came from the south ; And in the baby's orifice She saw the father's mouth. 184 Jones's Another would not be behind, But loyally chimed in : " Oh, bless the little duck, he's got His father's dimpled chin." Then Mrs. Primrose chucked his cheeks In quite a funny style, And thus provoked what she did call His father's winning smile. The'Jast old lady tried to be More venturous and bold, And, with a sweeping glance, she said, " His father's manly mould ! " Oh ! what was Alexander's pride When conqueror of the world ? Or what the great Napoleon's boast When kings from thrones he hurled ? Compared with Jones in that same hour, The theme of female praise ; Whose virtues, in his son and heir, Would live through future days ? Now, Jones was quite impressible To all the ladies said, And still their generous compliments Kept ringing in his head. And when they all had bade adieu, And left them for that day, Old Jones unto his better half Did hospitably say : Jones's Babs, i85 " Now, dear, I think we both should ask Our neighbours to a feast, For with their glowing, kind remarks, Our joy they have increased." They both agreed ; the day was fixed, And all the guests invited, And Jones's well-replenished board None of the party slighted. For well they knew that Jones gave not An invitation cold, And that whate'er his larder stored His hand would not withhold. Nor would he grudge the choicest wines His ample cellars held, To those who had a father's heart With proud emotion swelled. Oh, happy were they all that night 'Midst such unstinted cheer, And many are the compliments That greet the parents' ear. And at the feast, in nursey's arms, The rosy baby lay ; Proud might he be could he but know Half that the neighbours say. And when the feast was well-nigh o'er They pledge in friendly tones, The health of that same darling boy Augustus Tompkins Jones. 186 zrbe Battle of tbe Jefcfcarlanfc* THE BATTLE OF THE JEDDARLAND. OWN fell black night on the neighbouring height Of stout Barraer's high crest, And the glimmering light forsook the sight In the vault of the amber west ; When an aged form, 'mid the rain and storm At Clary's Castle high, Struck the postern-door with the staff he bore, And thus aloud did cry "What, warder, ho ! dost thou wassail so, Or art thou drowned in sleep ? Can'st thou repose when Scotland's foes Her lands and castles keep ? " "Nay, Palmer bold, forbear to scold, And say what want you here ; Dost thou bring word unto my lord Of scaith to Scotland dear ? " " I must not wait, unbolt your gate, For tidings good I bring, For Wallace wight hath given a fright To the minions of England's king. To Galloway's Lord I speed with word Of Wigtown Castle freed Of battle keen, well fought I ween, For sore is Scotland's need." TTbe Battle ot tbe Jefcfcarlanfc, 187 " Now, Palmer old, no gate shall hold Thy presence from my lord, But pass thou in his ear to win, For that most welcome word." No more was said, but in he sped, And sought the mighty chief Who once held sway in Galloway Before it came to grief. In thoughtful mood the chieftain stood, And asked what news he brought " All hail ! my lord, I bring thee word Of glorious battle fought. The Wallace wight in sturdy fight Fair Galloway hath made free, And I have ran, a supple man, To tell the tale to thee." " Now welcome here with such good cheer, Thou Palmer old and grey ; Thy tale I'll hear with gladdened ear, And well thy trouble pay. But first repair the tear and wear Thy aged form has stood. Ho ! servants, see this Palmer be Regaled with wine and food." " Nay, good, my lord, I pledged my word To Scotland's chieftain bold, That naught would stay or cause delay Before the tale I told. 188 ube Battle of tfce Our much-loved land the English band Full long hath humbled low, And Wigtown keep, both stout and steep, Hath fortified the foe. But Wallace wight, in all his might, Surprised the alien crew, And well they may this fatal day For ever keenly rue. At early morn the bugle horn Announced brave Wallace nigh : The startled foe were aught but slow Their ill-starred luck to try. On Jeddarland they took their stand, Lord Percy at their head, And 'mong the rest, with mitred crest, The Whithorn Bishop led. Full four-score strong, they spread along The verdant grassy slopes ; Now here, now there, their chief with care Revives their drooping hopes. From Boreland height the Wallace wight Had steered his midnight course ; Threescore all told his warriors bold, All men of puissant force. M'Kerlie stout his men led out Upon that patriot field ; Tough warriors they in many a fray, And never known to yield. Ufoe Battle ot tbe Jebfcarlanfc, 189 The Wallace brave had come to save His good friend's castle nigh, Where frowning deep o'er watery steep It rears its turrets high. But in their way they must delay To win old Wigtown's fort ; And well, I ween, their joy was keen To have some fighting sport. Right glad am I my aged eye Beheld the Scottish chief In Galloway, to win the day And bring its lord relief. O'er Cairnsmore dun the morning sun Shone on the armed force ; The Bladnoch's stream reflects its beam, And seaward holds its course. Each army placed, no time they waste; The trumpets sound to fight ; And quick they close as mortal foes : Oh ! dreadful was the sight. Bright gleamed the steel, the foemen reel, And shivered was the lance ; Deep were the hacks of battle-axe, And wild the war-horse prance. The Percy sought a youth who fought Upon the Scottish side And havoc made with his good blade, Which English carnage dyed. 190 Ube Battle of tfre Young Martin Dunn with honour won A name upon that day ; Near Wallace side he fain would ride, And mingle in the fray. Reared on the spot, it was his lot To be beloved by all : A generous youth he was in truth Majestic, comely, tall. That day, I wis, it had been his To wed fair Mary Bell The fairest flower e'er decked a bower, Or bloomed in fairy dell. But when the foe had menaced so, With Wallace he would ride, Uphold the right, and share the fight, Then claim his lovely bride. His valiant arm bred sore alarm Among the English host ; Five men that day fell as the prey Which his good sword could boast. The Percy viewed, and sore he rued Young Martin's victims slain ; His spurs he plied, and swift did ride Some fell revenge to gain. ' Now, youth, prepare ! if thou would'st dare The weight of Percy's blade ; I must repay on this foul day The havoc thou hast made.' Battle of tbe Jefcfcarlanb, 191 Their brands they flash their shields they clash, And hew with might and main ; Yet for a while, in doubtful style, None did advantage gain. At last one thrust brought to the dust The haughty Percy's pride, And Martin sprang, with martial clang, Down o'er his charger's side. In angry mood the Percy stood Full soon upon his feet : On the green sward, they thrust and ward, And in fell combat meet. Oh ! long they fight with manly might, And blood flowed free and fast, Till through the throat the Percy smote, And Martin breathed his last. As falls the oak beneath the stroke That lays its honours low, So in the fight this youthful knight Proved Percy's deadly blow. Woe worth the day ! what shall I say, Or how the anguish tell, That wrung the heart, with fatal smart, Of lovely Mary Bell? With frantic cries that pierced the skies, She sought the bloody field ; She tore her hair in wild despair, And soon her reason reeled. 192 ube battle of tbe No tears she shed ; no word she said, But prone beside him fell The spirit fled, the maid was dead ; Alas ! sweet Mary Bell ! Bloom roses still, and dews distil, Where these two lovers died ; And willows wave above the grave Where they lie side by side. When Wallace wight beheld that sight, He smote with grief his breast ; Sought in the fight the English knight, And sore upon him pressed. Then paused the fight to see the sight Of two such chieftains met : Ah ! well, I ween, the dreadful scene No one could ere forget. Their flaming brands lit up the sands, And mighty were their strokes, As lightning's flash and thunder's crash That rend the mountain oaks. But in the fight the Scottish knight Beat Percy back amain, And win he must, for every thrust Did fresh advantage gain. Driven to the side of Bladnoch's tide, The Percy fought no more ; But dared the wave his life to save, And sought the further shore. ZTbe battle of tbe Jefcfcarlanfc. 193 Superior rose o'er all his foes, Brave Wallace on that field ; M'Kerlie stout the English rout, Full quickly forced to yield. Three hours and more had passed before The Scots full victory gain ; Of these but four, of foes threescore, Were in that battle slain. The Percy's band, driven from the land, The Borders sought to gain ; While Wigtown's keep, both stout and steep, By Wallace wight was ta'en." .. The Palmer stayed ; no more he said In Galloway's noble ear : That tale the chief had given relief, And pleasant was his cheer. " Heaven still defend, and succour lend To noble Wallace wight j May Scotland's foes succeed like those Who fell in Wigtown's fight. For thee, old man, adopt my plan ; No more a wanderer stray, But spend life's close in fit repose, The charge of Galloway." N 194 Xocal poetical 1Rbapsot>, LOCAL POETICAL RHAPSODY. (Read at a Winding-up Concert of Wigtown Young Men's Mutual Improvement Association.) f'M gaun, dear freens, tae ask your ear Some doggerel verse o' mine tae hear ; If I could wed my rhyme tae tune Then it would gang the sweeter doon. Some twa-three local things I've strung In oor auld native mither tongue : I'll read the words ; as for the air Ye'll get it walkin' roun' the Square ! Your happy faces cheer the view, I'm sure we're much obleeged tae you For comin' oot frae far and near Oor humble bill o' fare tae hear. In this I'm sure we're a' agreed, Young Men's Societies indeed May weel oor aid an' favour claim Whfen mental culture is their aim. Pleasure and Folly aft allure Youth's giddy step sae insecure Tae coorses vain, where time's misspent, An' nocht remains but discontent. But this Association gives Full scope tae him wha ever lives In noble action tae improve The gifts he got frae Heaven above. SLocal poetical iRbapsofcs* 195 In this ye'll bear me oot, I'm sure, Its worthy President, M'Clure, Is just the richt man for the place He occupies wi' such good grace. He's ready aye tae dae his best Where'er he's wanted, east or west, Or north or sooth ; wi' easy grace He always quite adorns his place. See what he did for Wigtown Burgh When the Kirkyard was scrimp and narrow, An' sadly lacked accommodation For folks, when dead, o' every station. Oor Cemetery's an accomplished fact ; In that same matter nane did act Wi' greater zeal, wi' zest mair sure Than this nicht's Chairman Provost M'Clure Through Mrs. Mitchell's * generous heart, The grun's laid out wi' taste and art ; For trees and shrubs adorn the soil Where sleep succeeds tae weary toil. Only three graves there meet the eye But mair shall follow by-and-bye One sleeper was a Lily fair That bloomed, an' drooped, an' was nae mair. The second, lately passed away, Was yin whase worth ye'll no gainsay, * Mrs. Mitchell, Newton-Stewart, a Wigtown lady originally, who sent shrubs, &c., from the nursery of her husband to adorn the cemetery. 196 Xocal Ipoettcal Kind Wheatley ! pleasant and benevolent, Withoot yae act or word malevolent. The third a wee bit tiny mound Wi' them keeps vigil o'er the ground ; A little bud, not reached its bloom, Snapt soon awa' tae deck the tomb ! Nae mair M'Kerlie's, but God's acre, We'll dedicate it tae oor Maker ; Leave the dear dust where sorrow weeps Tae Him wha "slumbers not nor sleeps." We've got a splendid Band o' brass ; Noo that achievement cam' tae pass Mainly or solely through the part Oor Provost took wi' a' his heart. An' instrumental music noo Will cheer oor streets the hail year through : Strike up, toon's lads ! play blythe and steady ; Lead on yer men, Craig an' M'Credie ! Gae wa' ! ye German ban's, gae wa', Nae mair yer foreign music blaw ; What are yer unkent airs, sae tame, Tae " Auld Langsyne" or " Hame, sweet Hame?" But maybe juist afore his face The Chairman thinks me oot o' place In makin' sic ado aboot him, An' that a little less wad suit him. But " honour to whom honour's due ;" There's not a word I've said but's true ; Xocal poetical IRbapsofcs* 197 An* if ye think I've spak wi' cause, Freens ! join me wi' yer lood applause. He's such a jolly, genial soul, We'll pledge him, as wi' flowing bowl, Health, happiness, nae care nor sorrow, An' lang may he rule ow'r this Burgh. We've no' been stint in this auld Burgh O' Provosts clever, leal, an' thorough j Nor dae I think there's ocht tae blame If twa past Provosts I should name. M'Haffie ruled wi' pith an' vigour, Wrought for the Burgh like a nigger ; An' a' his aims were weel directed, An' noo his memory's respected. Ex- Provost Murray's milder sway Showed useful wark dune in his day ; An' for the gude dune in his time He weel deserves a screed o' rhyme. ; Twas in his reign the craws were tried ; His casting-vote gaed on their side, When some bluid-thirsty Councillors thought The Square-tree craws should a' be shot. The puir bit craws could dae nae harm Tae cause the Councillors sic alarm ; Sure they a lesson bachelors give, In nests wi' wives an' weans tae live. The poets lood their heroes praise In classic an' immortal lays ; 198 Slocal poetical But oor late Provost's worth tae tell Shall lang resound the Murray Bell An' noo that he has quite retired Frae wark that yinst his zeal inspired. We'll wish him health an' every joy, As life's calm gloamin' glideth by. Noo I maun close ; but, ere I do, Some words I must, though they be few, Devote to those fair ladies bright Wha on the platform bless yer sight Wi' siren voice tae charm the ear, Wi' gentle eyes tae drap the tear For dire distress, you always find At charity's call they're no behind. Ere noo they've made the widow's heart Tae sing for joy, when on their part, At concerts held tae help the needy, They a' cam' forrit kind an' speedy. Wha kens but this nicht's kindly aid Tae the young men, some dint has made On heart impressible an' saft, Just like a stang frae Cupid's shaft ? The Wigtown folks need little call Tae rouse them, if distress befall ; Where'er affliction's hand is seen, Widow an' orphan they'll befreen. I doot ye'd think me scant o' mense, If I withheld due recompense Curliana, 199 Frae Kelly, Marshall, an' M'Monnies,* Wha helped sae weel their Wigtown cronies. A wish frae oot oor heart's deep core For this Society is, that store O' lectures, concerts, weel attended, May show the young men weel befriended. Oor ministers hae every yin Shown that they're no tae be behin' ; They lectured to the Association Which weel beseemed their reverend station. There's yet yin mair will aye be ready Tae render service true an' steady Tae this Society, keen's a razor ; That's your obedient Gordon Fraser. CURLIANA. (Recitation given at the Annual Dinner of the Wigtown Curling Club.} flS Winter, and the sun scarce lifts his head Above the brink of Neptune's watery bed ; His absence Nature mourns on every hand, And sterile death enwraps the barren land. Gone are the summer flowers and autumn grain Which late adorned and beautified the plain, Unheard the reaper's song in sheafy vale, No milkmaid's lilt floats sweet upon the gale, * Young men from a distance, who sang at the concert. 200 Curiiana, The thousand feathered songsters of the glade Have vanished with the jocund glee they made ; Like skeletons the trees stand bare and lone, And through them pipes the wind with hollow moan. O'er Nature's form the fleecy mantle falls, Sent down from Winter's snow-replenished halls. But has the season fairly banished joy, And can no pastime drooping hearts employ ? Must Nature's gloom infect the human mind, Forbidding all amusement to mankind ? Ah, no ! as Winter in her sternest mood Fulfils a plan designed for Nature's good, So does her very rigour prove a source Of pleasant sport and pleasant intercourse. Among her sports, should I but mention here The very name of curling in your ear, I know it would evoke emotions strong, And wake dear memories, like an old-time song. In vain does Winter pinch with biting cold, In vain do leaden suns their heat withhold ; Given a keen frost, and kindred souls to meet, We ply the "roaring game ; ' with joy complete. Oh, dearest game of dear old Caledon, What visions rise as thee we think upon ! How have our fathers in the days of yore Enjoyed thy pleasures 'mong her mountains hoar! The game well suits old Scotia's sturdy soil, And recreates her honest sons of toil, Who mingle with the owners of the land, That doff their state, and once as brethren stand : For 'tis the game's peculiar charm and power That all John Tamson's bairns are for one hour. Curlfana, 201 Dear Mother Country ! watch with loving care The icy lochs that gem thy bosom fair ; Still guard thy hardy children at their game, And may their sons long practise at the same ! Let no newfangled pastimes lead astray From manlier sports among thy mountains grey ; Long may thy echoing hills the notes prolong Of burring curling stone that" scuds along ! Long may Rough Gibb's clear sheet of water stand The charge of Bladnoch's water-nymphs at hand ; Long may the breeze that sweeps o'er Clauchrie's soil Freshen the curlers' faces at their toil ; And long may we, at this our festive board, Which groans beneath the dainties Hoyes has stored, Meet year by year, cheered by the pleasant smile Of him who now presides in worthiest style ; And never may unpleasant word or deed Unkindly rancour and disunion breed ; But may we, in the spirit of the game, Keep burning ardently the friendly flame. Where'er kind Providence may cast his lot, His native land still charms the loyal Scot : Though forced to pass his days near either pole, She sits enthroned within his faithful soul. Each heathery hill and heaven-reflecting lake Full oft in sleep upon his vision break : Her tales of Wallace wight and Bruce the bold, And martyred sons can ne'er too oft be told : Her very name recalls whate'er is dear, And in his pensive mood provokes the tear ; Her sports, too, cheer his memory, and not least That game we celebrate at this our feast, 202 Gurliana, And oft when slumber seals his heavy eyes He sees the game in all its pomp arise Knights of the broom in martial ranks arrayed, And doughty feats of curling skill displayed : The skip his men with counsel sage directs, And from wise orders a crack shot expects ; The willing rink watch how each stone is sent, And with deft brooms the lazy hog prevent. In kind civilities the short-lived day Hastes on apace, too soon to pass away. The bracing air invigorates the frame, Co-operating with the healthful game. Pleased with the scenery round the frost-bound pond, The eye surveys it with affection fond : The classic Bladnoch there behold you may, Where Aiken Drum toiled hard for many a day. Sweet Bladnoch ! ever sanctified to me, Since thou didst see the Martyrs' agony Thy waters drowned the Matron and the'Maid, Who were of God alone, not man, afraid, And nobly chose, like heroines indeed, To give their lives, if conscience might be freed ! Flow, gentle River ! in sweet summer-time, When scented flowers blow fair in all their prime, And deck thy margin, with their tinted hues As fair a scene as Nature's lover views ! May the green hills upon thy bosom fair Long see their shapely forms reflected there ; May never flocks be wanting by thy side, But graze abundance where thy waters glide : And when the icy king thy waves congeals, And Nature leafless trees around reveals, /l&artin SLutber* 203 May thy lone glens and sloping hills still hear The boisterous clamour of the curler's cheer. Long hast thou flowed within thine ancient bed, And long it is since Rome's proud legions fled, What time our Galdus and his brawny hordes Discomfited and chased Rome's haughty lords. Their flight, O Bladnoch ! in the days of yore Thou witnessed, and wast dyed with Roman gore, And gladly heard Galwegia's warriors rough Called back, because trie fight had bled enough; Hence legends say thou didst receive thy name, And from that day acquired immortal fame. MARTIN LUTHER. COMPOSED ON THE 4OOTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE REFORMER'S BIRTH. RAVE hero in the noblest war That e'er was waged upon this earth A war that made the nations free And won their souls a second birth. On Europe there had settled down A darker than Cimmerian gloom, For Error had perverted Truth, And sought to hide it in the tomb. The sacred Book, Heaven's glorious chart, Was kept from common eyes away, For Superstition's reign were short If God's Word saw the light of day. 204 /l&artin SLutber, At Error's cruel, stern command Fierce stakes had blazed, and racks had pained Waldensian mountains, Spanish plains, Told how her power she had maintained. But fearless as the monarch king, The Monk of Wittenberg appeared ; For mightiest conquests for the Truth Almighty God the man upreared. 'Twas ever so since time began When noble work has to be done, God brings the work, God brings the man, And in God's strength success is won ! The Theses of the humble Monk The slumbering ear of Europe woke ; Truth now met Error face to face And one by one her fetters broke. Hail ! Martin Luther, king of men, Long be thy memory fresh and green ; Long shall thy noble actions live, And aye their influence be seen. We view thee, for thy soul's dear sake, Climb Pilate's stair with bated breath, When on thy mind flashed clear the truth " The just shall live alone by faith." This was the grand, the noble truth That lived in all thou didst and said ; This proves a church in vigorous youth, Or one to all that's noble dead. fl&artfn Xutber, 205 We see thee stand beneath the frown Of haughty kings and cardinals, Bereft of help, save God's strong arm, But nought thy constant heart appalls. That noble cry, " So help me, God, None other can I do or say ! " Shall ring in Europe's willing ear Long as the sun shall rule the day. That cry revealed the loyal mind That dare not with the Truth to part. Example brave ! long may we find Such heroes of the lion heart. To-day the nations gladly hail The coming of thy natal hour ; To-day we raise our loud acclaim, And honours on thy memory shower. The banner which thy bold right hand Unfurled for Truth in Europe's view, Still may it head a hardy band Resolved to lead to conquests new. True has it proved, true shall it prove , That Error is no match for Truth : Truth snaps the shackles of the mind With vigour of eternal youth. WeVe seen the waves, when flows the tide, Seem retrogressive in their course, But in an instant, lo ! they turn, And inward rush with greater force. 206 H 1bero, So shall it be with Heaven's own Truth, Though Error try to block its way ; It still shall conquer, till at length From Pole to Pole it holds its sway. A H ERO. fEROES there are of the battlefield ; Heroes there are of the briny deep ; And heroes there are unknown to fame, Whose valour to Silence is given to keep. Oh ! not alone can the blood-stained field, Nor the sea that bears a nation's fleet, Boast deeds of bravery, grand and true, Which an empire's plaudits loudly greet. For a loyal heart in the roughest breast Will rouse itself at duty's call ; And nobly do, or nobly die Let weal or woe to self befall. 'Tis a name well known all over the world, Yet he who bore it was known to few John Bull was a driver of railway cars, And his duty he faithfully strove to do. One day as he rattled his cars along, Freighted with man and woman and child, The ringing laugh and the merry tale The length of the journey well beguiled. H 1berinner, 213 Guarded by the weeping willows, Lulled by moaning winds that glide, Rocked by gently breaking billows, Sleep ! my maid of Bladnoch side. LINES Recited at a Dinner and Presentation to a respected Farmer on his leaving Scotland for England. hail, the kindly feelings of the heart That draw the generous tear when friends must part, And make the bosom heave the pensive sigh As the last hour of intercourse draws nigh. Dear friendship ! silken cord of bounteous Heaven, Let down to bind hearts that might else be driven Asunder by the blasts of party strife, The bane of peace, and plague of human life. Sweet antidote to all life's cares and shocks, Like that sole grace left in Pandora's box, Which, when the ills of life flew forth abroad, Alone remained, to smooth its thorny road. Here are we met, occasion calls us forth, To pay the homage due to sterling worth ; For 'tis a pleasant thought, that life well spent Fails not to win a fitting compliment ; That conduct useful, honourable, pure, Due recognition ever shall ensure. Need I remind you that our honoured guest, Whose parting with us leaves our hearts depressed, Is one whom once to know is still to love, Upright with man below, with God above? 214 SLines IRecftefc at a Dinner. A ruling elder, pure in deed and word, He bore the sacred vessels of the Lord, And with that force which character can give Example showed how Christian men should live ; And still he proved that he can live the best Whose tranquil soul enjoys Heaven's peace and rest; As the tall spire that heavenward rears its head, On which the sun's last golden beams are shed, Serenely stands, reflecting Heaven's bright rays, While busy crowds surround its earthly base. Such men we need ; such men we ill can spare ; Such men a credit to a district are. Our friend ne'er grudged to spend and to be spent In schemes of good to which his heart he lent. When autumn's golden hues bedeck the plain, And Ceres loads with fruit the creaking wain, What time, as changing seasons come and go, We hold that bright display, our Cattle Show (Grand monument to agriculture's skill, Which with rare specimens the ground can fill), Shall we not then our grievous loss deplore ? For Gifford's valued help is ours no more. Much has he done, as we can well attest, To make our Show one of the very best. Again, when winter spreads the icy board, His presence curlers will but ill afford, For to the front his cheerful countenance came, And ardent compeers caught the generous flame. Much was he thought of in the rink he led, And with his genial influence well they sped. No more his kindly smile will now be seen, When bonspiels cause the curlers to convene, picfe up a 8Mn. 215 Nor by sweet Bladnoch's* crystal stream shall he Lead on his men to curling victory ; The nymphs that make that placid flood their care Shall mourn the form that moves no longer there. Since Providence has called our friend to go To other scenes where Thames' proud waters flow, And mingle there with faces strange and new, We now shall bid him one last fond adieu. 'Tis only right that virtue's loyal son Should now be greeted with the loud " Well done ! " That life enriched by conduct good and wise Should be rewarded with the well-earned prize. Happy the land whose people pleasure take In prizing virtue for its own dear sake ; Wretched the land, to every vice a prey, Where moral sense is lapsing to decay. Long may this salver, carved with curious art, Speak of the fond affection of the heart That glows in bosoms loyal, warm, and true, To one oft thought upon, though lost to view ! May Heaven benign still guard both him and his, And fill their earthly cup with every bliss ; And when Death sweeps them and ourselves away, May all wake up in bright celestial day. AYE PICK UP A PIN. men are born heirs tae a splendid estate, Withoot ony effort they fin' themsel's great ; An' some mak' themsel's, an' a fortune they win, For they ne'er thocht it shamefu' tae pick up a pin. 216 HC pfcfe up a flMn, Awa' wi' the lad or the lassie sae prood, For, trowth, they will ne'er come tae onything good, That think it beneath them, an' almost a sin, Tae loot doon an' pick up a simple bit pin. Young man, wad ye like tae get wed tae a wife, An' yin that will see tae yer interests in life ; A pair o' guid han's are far better than " tin " Choose a wife that disdains na tae pick up a pin. An' sae I would say tae each decent young lass, If in wedlock yer days ye wad fain like tae pass j Gae yer heart tae nae spendthrift that gars a' things spin ; Get a gatherin' young chiel that will pick up a pin. 'Tis the law o' a' Nature that naething be lost, E'en the ocean, whase waves lave a continent's coast, Is made up o' draps that a' throughither rin ; Auld Neptune ne'er spurned tae tak' tent o' a pin. The highest example that earth can afford Is that which took place in the days o' oor Lord ; On Judah's green sward thoosands fed every yin, But the lavings were saved as ye'd pick up a pin. We read but o' late there had just passed away The famous pill-maker the great Holloway, Wha began a puir lad, but left thoosands behin', For he aye condescended tae pick up a pin. Sma' trifles laid by, though each yin be na great, Will come up tae much in the gross aggregate ; An' a hoose o' yer ain tae ward aff the cauld win' May result from yer deigning tae pick up a pin. Wigtown Batto, 217 Instead o' the wine cup, an' vile smoking weed, An' dandy braw claes their frail bodies tae cleed, It wad set oor young men ten times better tae fin' On the wide floor o' knowledge if only a pin. See yonder puir wretch that's gaun begging for bread, What think ye has brocht a' his woe on his head His belly sae empty, and maist naked skin ? What but his neglecting tae pick up a pin. See yonder bricht family, happy and snod, Enriched in their gear by the blessing o' God ; Sae cheerfu' an' blithe, withoot discord or din : Ah ! weel ha'e they learnt aye tae pick up a pin. Hoo needfu' the lesson that parents should learn In habits o' thrift tae train up ilka bairn ; An' if early in life tae save up they begin, They will aye find it easy tae pick up a pin. Depend on't, great things become matters o' fact, By this thing an' that thing thegither that act ; An' sae if some michty achievement we'd win, We must ne'er think it shamefu' tae pick up a pin. THE WIGTOWN BAND. (Recited at a, Concert in aid of the Wigtown Brass Band. ) tHAMELY chiel has ventured ben Some verse or twa tae try tae fen' ; He hopes yer ears ye'll kindly len' For some few minutes, Then oor kind frien's will sing again Their sangs like linnets. 218 Ube Wigtown But, trowth, I ha'ena much tae say, Yer kind attention tae repay ; Perhaps my jingling numbers may Mak' up for that : Sae maybe nae great stress ye'll lay On what is flat. It mak's a body feel quite croose Tae see this weel-filled happy hoose Gathered tae let its bounty loose, Wi' willing han', Tae help tae pey the claes sae spruce That deed oor Ban'. And as we're here a' frien's thegiiher, We'll pit up wi' what seems throughittier, An' sing, an' lauch, an' talk, an' blether, Twa happy oors ; Well tie Dull Care up wi' a tether, Howe'er he lours. The man that can provoke a smile Tae banish Care, or lessen Toil, Befrien's us mair, in truer style, Than learned donkeys Wha say oor faithers in this isle Langsyne were monkeys. If brain-sick scholars are content An' pleased wi' sic' a heich descent, E'en be it sae : but let them tent Wha they assail ; Oh dear! we- ca't nae compliment Tae wear a tail. TOtgtown lIBanfc, 219 I wunner when we lost the tail ; Fve tried tae guess, but always fail j Perhaps the appendage took legbail (It gars yin laugh) When three-legged stools, as clerks, we scale, An' rubbed it aff ! When the Fourth James o'er Scotland reigned, He wi' his Wigtown subjects deigned Tae stey, in Friary maintained, At least yae nicht ; His gracious meed oor Pipers gained That blew wi' micht An' efter this was handed doon The richt tae wake the bagpipe's soun' Tae wee Pate Clauchlan o' this toon, Wha skirled his pipes, As boasting Pipers o' the croon His prototypes. Then efter him a Ban' appeared, An' residenters greatly cheered ; Its composition, I am feared, I maunna mention ; 'Twas maistly clernots that were heard An' drew attention. Neist, public music took a stride, An' toon's-lads strutted wi' much pride, An' wi' flute-music deftly plied, They went ahead ; The thundering drum the wee weans fleyed, New-gaen tae bed. 220 ube Wigtown But noo we're come tae great perfection Oor Ban' will stan' minute inspection ; It's made o' brass, wi' nae defection, An' plays sae weel, Auld folks maist loose their circumspection, An' dance a reel. It numbers fully saxteen men, A' fit their instruments tae fen' ; The drummer thumps the big drum-en' Wi' sic a thud As mak's them a' their time tae ken, An' when tae scud. I'm sure ye a' maun think it's gran' That Wigtown has got sic a Ban' : It caps a' toons that lie near-han', An' plays sae steady Its leaders music understan', Craig an' M'Creadie. Nae mair we'll thole the bagpipe's skirl, Nae mair shrill fifes oor lugs mak' dirl ; Oor lads shall in the Brass Ban' tirl, Like blackbird's whustle ; Their leaders heich their batons whirl, Like Henry Russell. Tae see them on a fine clear nicht Hugging their instruments sae bricht, In trowth it is a pleasant sicht Upon oor street ; Nae wonder a' folk, left an' richt, Their efforts greet. Ube Motown Bank 221 There's nae mair noo tae be desired, An' much oor Ban's tae be admired ; Proficiency they ha'e acquired In briefest time ; Nae wonder, wi' their praises fired, I rant in rhyme. The Ban' has proved a perfect boon Tae a' the bairns within the toon, Wha sing an' whustle ilka tune The Ban' can play ; We hear their wee pipe's cheerfu' soun' The leelang day. Noo, ca' na this a sma' affair ; There's no a single branch o' lair That in refinement can compare Wi' music's strains It's charms can drive awa' Dull Care E'en 'mang the weans. An* then, " on licht fantastic toe," Each lassie dances wi' her joe, When in the Square pell-mell they go, An' fill the Green : Publicity disarms the foe O' slander's spleen. If oor loved Queen, when wanting rest, Should pay a veesit tae Hillcrest,* I'm sure the Ban' wad dae its best Tae head her in ; We'd greet her wi' true Lowland zest An' loyal din. "The residence of the Chairman, Provost M'Clure. 222 ube Wigtown 3Bant>. Should Gladstone tak' anither trip In Tonald Currie's gallant ship, An' intae Wigtown harbour slip, It wadna sully The Ban's fair fame tae play him up Wi' " Wandering Wullie." I see ye lauch at what I say ; But only juist the ither day A veteran statesman passed this way. An' cheered oor sicht A man whase name shall leeve for aye I mean, John Bricht. Sir Staffy, should he come this way (As he did on a previous day), On kind reception lippen may, As settled matter ; We'll toast, should Little] ohn say nay, In Wigtown water. O' frien's that wrocht wi' a' their po'er The Ban's success to mak' secure, There's nane cam' up tae Will M'Clure Oor plucky Provost ; In gathering up the funds like stour He aye was foremost. If ony o' ye ha'e the heart, An' can wi' twa-three shillings part, Ye may depend 'twill be weel-waurt Upon the Ban' ; They need wee nig-ma-nies tae start, An' keep them gaun. ZTbe %ass wf tbe Dolman* 223 In fine, as far as music goes, I think we a' may weel suppose, At concerts or at cattle shows Oor Ban's the thing ; Tae them three cheers I noo propose Lood let them ring ! Encore. Oh, frien's ! I've had an awfu' fricht, For Pepper's Ghost * was full in sicht ; "Gang back," it said, "ye menseless wicht! Gang back yer wa's ; Warm thanks yer audience gi'e the nicht For their applause." An' noo that I ha'e laid the Ghost, I'll show my back, an' clear the coast ; I'm glad my " Pome " has not been lost Ye've laucht sae weel ; Much gratified awa ; I'll post, A happy chiel. THE LASS WI' THE DOLMAN. fE ladies that float in yer dresses sae braw, An' think ye're perfection withoot fault or flaw, Yer fame for attraction for ever is gone When my Tibbie appears wi' her Dolman on. Oh ! sweetly tae me comes the calm simmer nicht, When my ain bonnie lassie emerges in sicht ; Ye'd think in her face Beauty's graces a' shone, An' she trips it sae neat wi' her Dolman on. * Pepper's Ghost was exhibiting in town that night. 224 ube SLass wi' tbe Dolman* A prood lad am I when she offers tae go Wi' me in her best tae a concert or show : Ah ! don't the folks glower at my brave Amazon, As she struts it sae gran' wi' her Dolman on. We yinst cut a shine at oor great cattle show, An' Tibbie was talked o', and sae was her beau ; But, alas ! the wat grun' was as saft as a scone, An' doon slid my lass wi' her Dolman on. She scarcely had time tae start up on her feet, When the red-feather mounting her head-gear sae neat Gart the big Elrig bull rin at Tibbie, ochone ! An' aff she flew hame wi' her Dolman on. I felt disconcerted, an' thocht I looked green ; Thinks I, what a spectacle Tibbie has been ! Sae quickly I vanished, reflecting upon My ill-starred bit lass wi' her Dolman on. Yae nicht tae a concert my lassie I took, At Tibbie the ladies gied mony a look ; For mysel', I was dressed like a great Spanish Don : Tib looked like Queen Vic. wi' her Dolman on. Tae a show o' wild beasts that appeared the next nicht I took my dear lassie tae witness the sicht, But an auld caged-up lion they ca'd Caledon Made glam at puir Tib wi' her Dolman on. But for a' her misfortunes, I ne'er was inclined Tae let her dear image fade oot o' my mind, An' sae ere a twal'month o' coortship had gone I married the lass wi' the Dolman on. Bonnie SLass o' :!Bla&nocb Sifce* 225 THE BONNIE LASS O' BLADNOCH SIDE. N a lonely little cot in a deep sequestered spot, Where the Bladnoch, through sweet meadows, pours its gently flowing tide, Where sweet Nature's gladsome voice makes the hills and dales rejoice, Lives my bonnie, bonnie Lass o' Bladnoch side. Let the miser hoard his treasure, and the worldling live in pleasure; Let the soldier seek for glory, and the courtier strut in pride ; Gi'e tae me the walk at e'en, near Lindarroch's woods sae gree*n, Wi' my bonnie, bonnie Lass o' Bladnoch side. When the glorious orb of day veils his deep impurpled ray, And his glowing beams in splendour down Kirvennie's summit glide, Oh, 'tis then I stray from men, tae renew the tale again Wi' my bonnie, bonnie Lass o' Bladnoch side. Pure the orient pearls of morn that the heather-bells adorn, And the lily that sae modestly its native grace wad hide ; And they seem tae say tae me, " Like yer ain true love we be That's the bonnie, bonnie Lass o' Bladnoch side." She is guileless as she's fair, passing rich in virtues rare ; And in one short month she'll stand my sweet and ever- beauteous bride; Then my earthly cup below wi' true bliss will overflow : Oh, my bonnie, bonnie Lass o' Bladnoch side ! p 226 ube Hulfc pair o' Specs. THE AULD PAIR O' SPECS. a relic dear tae me, more dear than diamond rare ; Though plain to ither eyes it seem, in mine 'tis wondrous fair ; It tak's me back tae distant times in childhood's sunny days When on me smiled a mither's face, pleased wi' my childish ways ; When prattling by her side I stood, or gambolled o'er the lea, Or lowly bent at eventide, and prayed on reverent knee : Oh ! did I not adore her then, nor would her spirit vex, As she beamed her kindly glances through her auld pair o' specs ? These specs tae me are wondrous dear for what they bring tae min', Recalling as they do the days an' scenes o' auld lang syne, When a happy family met within the auld paternal hame, An' the specs lit up the mither's een tae smile on a' the same, But time brak up the happy group, and some sailed ower the sea, And some like blighted flo'ers did pine, an' fade awa' an' dee, An' the mither's heart these sorrows great did sair an' lang perplex. An' aft had she tae dicht her een, an' wipe the pair o' specs. But faith in God she never lost an' aye she plodded on. An* oft her bricht example I delicht tae think upon ; Full weel I knew her strength she drew tae bear each earthly care From high communion held with God in nicht an' morning prayer. Oh ! sacred was the time tae me when seated at her side, I saw her take her Bible up on Sabbath's eventide An' read wi' aspect calm an' mild, like that which heaven reflec's, And glance at me sae kindly through the auld pair o' specs. But the time came on, alas, how quick ! that laid the specs aside, An' the form sae loved an' cherished quickly pined awa' an' died ; IRestsnation of Sberiff IRMnfc, 227 An' the relic that I value aft recalls her gentle face, An' in memory's vision still she seems tae fill her wonted place In that happy family circle in the auld paternal hame When we tasted life's pure pleasures ere the stern death- angel came; Oft my heart would weave a fancy which no sober judgment checks That my mither smiles on me frae heaven, withoot the pair o' specs. THE RESIGNATION OF SHERIFF RHIND. humble muse is sair distressed Since first the news her mind oppressed, That, seeking muckle-needed rest, An' ease tae find, Oor Sheriff, yin o' Scotland's best, The Bench resigned. Much will we miss oor learned frien', Whase tall and gentlemanly mien Moving about has lang been seen, Courteous and kind ; We mourn the loss, wi' moistened een, O' Sheriff Rhind. Ye lawyers skilled in points o' law, Wha deaved his lugs wi' learned jaw, As ilk ane found a neebour's flaw, Nae rival fearing, I'm sure ye'll own he gied ye a' A patient hearing. 228 Ube IRestgnatton of Sberiff IRbinfc, An' in deciding every case, The salient points he weel could trace, Putting each in its proper place, Neat an' succinct, Making his mind up in short space. As by instinct. Affable in his disposition, Learned in his disquisition, Clear-sichted in his mental vision, Upon the Bench, He hasna left his high position Without a wrench. His office was nae sinecure ; He had tae dae wi' rich an' poor, For human nature's aft sae dour, That great an' sma', When rickets raise a hatefu' stour, Rush intae law. Full mony a rash unhappy wicht, In wandering frae the path that's richt, Has ocht but blest the Sheriff's sicht, Or sung his praise, When sent tae jail's Cimmerian nicht For sixty days. Withoot a doubt a Sheriff's station Ranks 'mang the highest in the nation : It keeps in state o' preservation The richts o' man, Which ne'er may thole a bald invasion On ony han'. IResionation of Sberiff IRbinfc* 229 The Coorts o' Wigtown an' Stranraer Can boast a maist efficient Bar ; The feck o' them but young men are, Yet weel they're able Tae stan' wi' seniors on a par, An' slap the table. For should some fussy Buzfuz loon Come daunerin' here frae Embro' toon, Tae win a case in wig an' goon, He'll fin his match ; Oor Bar's weel stocked wi' lawyers soun', Up tae the scratch. For me, I weel may be inclined Tae speak in praise o' Sheriff Rhind ; Tae me he aye was passing kind The humble scribe That writes the eloquence o' mind O' lawyer tribe. For mony a day an' mony a year His name will be remembered here ; His leaving swells the rising tear In me, at least : But lest folks adulation fear I'll haud my wheesht. I wunner wha the Croon will pit Upon oor vacant Bench tae sit ; Than Nicolson there's nane mair fit I like the name, For Pedlar Wull, wi' Poet's wit, He bore the same. 230 jobn Uamson's As gallant ship that nears the shore, Her lengthened voyage almost o'er, Nae angry waves tae vex her more A' left behind May peacefu' days be yet in store For Sheriff Rhind ! May life's last years be sweetest, best, An' yield him weel-earned generous rest, Wi' nocht tae ruffle or molest His tranquil mind ; Health, happiness, I wish wi' zest Tae Sheriff Rhind ! JOHN TAMSON'S FRIGHT: A GHOST STORY. fwAKE my local lyre tae sing Nae praises o' a warlike king, Nor tender passion all aglow Which only raptured lovers know. Nor shall I dare my notes employ On Homer's wars o ; Greece and Troy ; Nor shall the Mantuan Swan invite From humbler strains and humbler flight. In "namely verse I'll plainly tell What yinst an honest man befell, And if my numbers wake your fear, Suppress it till the end you hear. We've heard o' Hamlet's faither's ghaist That Denmark's coortiers a' amaised ; An' what took place when a' was mirk At Allowa's auld haunted kirk, 3obn Uamson's jfrtgbt 231 Which Tarn o' Shanter's heart made quail, An' caused the loss o' puir Meg's tail ; An' Bladnoch's Broonie Aiken Drum Shall live for ages yet tae come ; But Bard has never daured declare The Wigtown ghaist that gaed a scare Tae douce John Tamson, honest man ! As tae his cost yae nicht he fan'. John was a faithfu', honest Scot, Wi' character withoot a blot, Wha had the independent mind That in true Scots ye '11 always find ; Wha ne'er wad seek tae beg his bread If he could win 't by han' or head ; Wha thocht if he could pay his debt, An' food an' education get For his wee family an' himsel', That he had done his duty well. Gi'e me the honest labourin' man Wi' faith in God an' willin' han' ; He's king o' men, an' sure tae be The mainstay o' a Ian' that's free ! A canty wife tae cheer his hame, Wi' olive temper aye the same ; Six happy youngsters fu' o' glee, Health on their cheek, mirth in their e'e, Fed on the halesome Scottish fare That bigs up bane an' muscle rare Unlike new-fangled feckless food That rears our youth tae little good : These were poor John's peculiar care ; For them he toiled, an' toiled gey sair : 232 3obn TTamson's But when he thocht on those sae dear He laboured wi' the greater cheer. Oh, frien's ! what nerves a worker's arm, An' mak's him tae his labour warm, Is not the thochts o' gatherm' pelf, But o' those dearer far than self ! Noo lest your patience should be lost I'll tell at yinst aboot the ghost. Returnin' frae his daily toil On stubborn Kirkland's clayey soil, He washed himself, an' took his supper (His appetite was quite a whupper). He lit his pipe, syne took the street Tae hear what news his ears wad greet ; Then in a neebouring cheerfu' smiddy Whaur twa-three chums had met already, Wi' Liberal Rab and Tory Pate He wrangled ower affairs o' State. Returning hame, the news he read, An' then prepared tae gang tae bed. But ere tae bed their wa's they took John, as their high priest, took the Book : An ancient practice, sad to say, Not quite so common in oor day ! Ah, balmy sleep ! ye're aye at han' Tae bless the couch o' labouring man ; Sae John nae sooner laid him doon Than he was wrapped in slumbers soun'. His wife, the decent, honest body, Wha made his comfort aye her study, Stretched by his side, tae sleep resigned Her over-anxious, burdened mind ; Sofon ZTamson's ffrigbt 233 For 'deed it was nae easy thing On the sma' wage her man could bring Tae rear her bairns an' keep them neat, An' manage tae get ends tae meet. But John was steady, she was thrifty, An* sae they baith could make a shift aye ; An' as they had the fear o' God, Their hame was bien, an' douce, an' snod. The bairns, a healthy, cheerfu' race, Wi' glee depicted on their face, Tired wi' the sports tae childhood dear, Reposed in cribs their parents near. As time passed on, John's powerfu' snore Micht ha'e been heard ootside the door, Bricht visions spread their wings around As Mill he lay in dreamland bound. In fancy, as he turns the soil, In pursuit o' his daily toil, He sees the tuneful lark arise, Drinks in its sang as up it flies ; The cattle browse the verdant ground ; Wi' singing birds the woods resound : The silver Cree and Bladnoch meet, And murmur cadence low an' sweet. The guidwife's sleeping thochts o'ertake Her avocations when awake : She thinks she's at the washing-tub, An' does her best tae clean an' scrub : Anon the Winnyhill sae high She clim's tae get her claes tae dry ; Or, darning stockings, mending claes, She's eident aye in a' her ways. 234 3obn ZTamson's ffrfgbt Now Night, enthroned on ebon car, Allows nae noise her reign tae mar ; An' silence fell on all around, On either hand was heard nae sound. The sough o' Bladnoch's waters nigh Resembled but a passing sigh ; Nae moon shone oot wi' cheering licht, An' nocht but darkness met the sicht. E'en the policeman's steady tread Had ceased, for he had gane tae bed : The wind moaned low within the Square Amang the leafless trees sae bare : The toon's clock clearly noo an' then Proclaimed the 'oor tae waukrife men : The lonely hoolet's eldritch cry Announced the 'oor o' midnicht nigh. As perched upon a ruin grey He held his undisputed sway. On ridges o' the Kirkland steep The witches high their revels keep ; At times across the murky sky On broomsticks some gaed scourin' by, Till a' foregathered snug an' bien On dusky Cairnsmore's tap sae green, Tae practise their misdeeds unholy, Wi' which my page I wadna sully. The cause that gart them meet that nicht Had put the witches a' in fricht ; For since they stole awa' the bairn O' Babbie Cosh, the Bailies stern Had issued orders firm an' sure Tae try tae brak' the witches' po'er, 3obn Uamson's ffrisbt 235 An' offered toonslands mony a rood Tae him wha spilt their cursed blood An' let each carcase whaur it fa's Lie carrion for the corby-craws. The nicht was dark, an' dreich, an' dour, An' slowly passed each leaden 'oor ; 'Twas sic a nicht, as legends tell, Pale Wigtown burghers aft befell, When Provost Coutran's restless sprite Gave sternest men unearthly fright, What time through keyholes o' the door He blew red sparks upon the floor. Such nicht micht favour him of yore, Doomed to feel thirst for evermore, For forcing down 'neath Bladnoch's water Glenvernoch's lovely martyred daughter. Poor wretch ! he wandered far an' near, His water-pitcher forced to bear, With which he tried, but tried in vain, Some respite from his thirst to gain. Night seemed as if in widowhood, Wi* mantle black an' sable hood ; Her brow a sombre dulness mars, Unworn her coronet o' stars. Such was the time, such was the nicht, When douce John Tamson got the fricht. Hush ! say what means that rustlin' sound. Disturbing slumbers so profound ; For John's guidwife a movement hears Which sleep dispels an' stirs her fears. It seemed (an' 'twas a dreadful thing!) The flafnn' o' an eagle's wing, 3obn Uamson's Which like clock-work at times apace Fell richt athwart her sonsy face. " Alack ! what can it be ? " thocht she, " Is't Satan aff wi' me tae flee ? Nae voice I hear, an' still it thuds, An' yet it's something saft like duds." What could she do ? she daur not speak For fear the bird, wi' vengefu' beak, Micht lift her sheer an' bear away, An' leisurely devour his prey. Still flaffed the ghaist upon her face, Till at the last she tried tae brace Her courage up tae wauken John, Wha snored an' still kept dreaming on. Through frantic desperation mad She summoned a' the power she had Tae poke her liege lord's neighbouring side, An' itherways tae wake him tried. Still kept the ghaist his timely stroke, E'en though poor John frae slumber woke, Brave hero ! gave his head a scratch, An' said, " Wife, rise, an' strike a match ! " But John was roused at length to see The case was one of urgency : The monster noo took in mair ground, An' dealt his favours all around, Which made John's sunburnt face to smart An* forced him frae his bed tae start. He fumbled at the mantelpiece In hopes a matchbox soon tae seize, An' fast a licht he deftly struck, But still he could not bless his luck. 3obn Uamson's ffrisbt 237 Ghaists seem unfit tae stan' the glare O' licht that's brocht on them tae bear, For John had only time tae see The ghaist regain its liberty. Oh ! for auld Pindar's classic fire, When Grecian games awoke his lyre, That I micht fitly sing the race That in the darkness noo took place ! Nae sooner did the honest John Perceive the ghaist was skin an' bone, Than in pursuit, like swiftest beagle, He tried to catch the quondam eagle. Swift as the fleet an' courying grew John Tamson did the ghaist pursue, An' though his sark was a' his deeding, The ghaist was a' that he was heeding. The pity was that such a race In darkest midnicht should tak' place, For sure I am such nimble flicht Was worth a crood's admiring sicht. In truth it must ha'e been quite gran' Tae see oor hero, decent man ! Speed like an arrow up the street, Wi' nichtcap, sark, an 7 clean bare feet. In vain he tried tae overtake The thing that late had made him quake ; It swiftly ran for life or death, An' seemed tae run John oot o' breath. As when the hare in barbarous chase Of hounds in an unequal race, When hard bestead, turns quickly round, An' frae an angle takes a bound ; 238 jobn Uamson's jfrigbt. So did the ghaist a corner take, But John his speed could hardly break ; Yet, wheeling round, he forward bent, An' tae the chase fresh vigour lent. Soon full success his labours crowned, An' when his arms he threw around His struggling an' his frichtened prey He found him made o' human clay. The foe, resembling a chameleon, Proved a belated Bacchanalian, Who, wandering hame frae late debauch, Had found John's door juist on the latch, An' in he daunered, till a chair, Where lay the claes that John did wear, His progress stopped, and snatching up The waistcoat straight began tae whup An* wallop at the sleepers' faces, Whose heavy breathing told the places Where Morpheus had them fast and sure Within his dull domain secure. 'Tis said that John, before he rose, By something snapping on his nose, Surmised that what his face did wipe, His waistcoat was that held his pipe. The ghaist was decently connected, An' John fu' readily respected Friens' tender feelings, an' forgave The cantrips o' the drunken knave. The moral o' these simple verses, Which humble bard juist noo rehearses, Is, keep yer doors secure at nicht, Tae save you frae the eagle fricht. ZTbe Classes* 239 THE CLASSES. f HERE'S grief ahead ; I'm wae tae think The chain that man tae man should link Is like tae snap in twa : The gathering clouds obscure the sky, The tug o' class wi' class draws nigh, An' what shall save us a' ? It gars my saddened soul tae shrink Beneath a dreadfu' wecht, Tae fear we're on the battle's brink, That heich an' laigh may fecht The shame o't, an' blame o't, , On selfishness maun fa' ; The cure o't, I'm sure o't, Is love 'mang yin an' a'. The poor seem grudging tae the rich Their prood an' elevated pitch, An' fain would like a scramble : The rich too oft the poor neglect, An' cold indifference affect, An' dissipate an' gamble. Mair than wad feed (they must confess) Their hungry fellow-men, On costly equipage an' dress They most profusely spen' ; An' hampered an' pampered, Their human sympathy gone ; Their bearing declaring They leeve for self alone. 240 trbe Classes* Why should not a' in concert act, An' realise the glorious fact That we are brethren a' ? The wealthy may their means employ In easing want an' bringing joy When sorrow may befa' ; An' then the poor wi' honest toil, As weel befits their station, May help the owners o' the soil, An' mak' a prosperous nation ; Nought jarring or marring The blissful sweet accord, United an' righted The peasant an' the lord. A' Nature proves this plan the best, For high she rears the mountain's crest, An' low she sinks the vale. The towering atlas shields the plain, Where waves the yellow golden grain, Frae furious tempest's gale. The loadstone o' goodwill we want Tae draw a' classes nearer ; Nae revolutionary rant Will mak' the ootlook clearer. In Love then, we'll move then, Nor envy yin anither ; 'Tis so then, we'll show then Ilk yin's his neebour's brither. GORDON FRASEB, PIUXTEB, WIGTOWN. ^SS' YC1556'