Mf*:. si^mi ^■m THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES / *',V) WI'l/LIAM '0]LUMAM, POEMS AND SONGS, HUMOROUS AND SATIRICAL. BY ALEXANDER RODG E'R. GLASGOW: DAVID ROBERTSON. OLIVER & BOYD, EDINBURGH ; LONGMAN, ORME, BROWN, GREEN & LONGMANS, AND SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO., LONDON; AND WILLIAM CURRY, JUN., & CO,, DUBLIN. MDCCCX-^XViri. PlilNTED BY .roH.\ MEXNOSS & CO., GEEENOCK. PR. ^"2.33 DEDICATION. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY LORD BROUGHAM AND VAUX. My Lord, Flattered, and somewhat emboldened, by the very favourable reception which many of my Pieces have received from the Public, I have presumed to offer them in a collected form to your Lordship. I trust I may be permitted to express myself as an ardent ad- mirer of your Lordship's exertions in the cause of Liberty — the Diffusion of Knowledge — Reforms in our National Laws, in spirit and administration — and in behalf of the oppressed and injured Negro ; and to hope that the Master Mind of the Age will long continue to be devoted to the same glorious objects. I am, Your Lordship's most obedient Servant, ALEXANDER RODGER. 822397 PREFACE. In presenting this Edition of my Works to the Public, it is un- necessary for me to crave indulgence for errors and imperfections. My readers may not sympathize with me, nor are they required to do so, when I state that these Pieces were written during intervals of rest from the most laborious occupation. They must stand or fall by their own merits or demerits. I may be allowed to mention, that many of the Pieces in this Edition, though written previous to the publication of the first, were then withheld. They are now given to the Public at the suggestion of friends in whose taste and judgment I have the fullest confidence. The Political Pieces were generally written under the excite- ment of the occasion that gave them birth. The incidents to which they refer are now matters of history, upon which every man has a right to form his own opinion. IV Many of the Songs ami Minor Pieces are already known, hav- ing appeared from time to time in various publications, and had judgment prouounced upon them. ALEXANDER RODGER. Glasgow, 183». CONTENTS. My Country, -.......-i Bolivar, ---------- 8 A "Word of Advice, --.-.---15 The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre, - - - - . 29 Ode written for the Anniversary of the Birth of Charles James Fox, ------ ---34 Letter to the Editor of Greenock Advertiser, - - . 37 Colin Dulap, ..------.43 Jamie M'Nab, -.-----. 49 ShonM'Nab, - - 53 Highland Politicians, -----.. 60 Behave yoursel' before Folk, - ... - - 65 The Answer, ... ------- 69 "Wailings of Corruption, -------73 Shaving Banks, SI Ode written for the Anniversary of the Birth of Robert TannahiU, ^4 Songs from Fragments of Tannahill. Come hame to your Lingels, ----- 103 Meg o' the Glen, -- 105 The Lassie o' Merry Eighteen, , - - - - 106 Tlie Lassies a' leugh, ------- 107 Brave Lewie Roy, ------- 109 O, how can ye gang, Lassie, - - - - - 110 The Dairo's Anthem, 112 Bauldy Buchanan, _----.-. ijg Highlan' Sobriety, --. 122 A most Loyal Ode, -----... 124 A Loyal Lamentation, ----... 133 Magnificent Tom, ------.. 133 A Full-length Portrait, ------- ]4i Peter CorncHps, -._-. -.. 145 The Devil's Visit to the Islands of Japan, . - - 225 An Expostulatory Address to Death, ----- 236 Lines written in a certain Bridewell by a State Prisoner, 243 The Waefu' Lamentation of the Provost and Bailies of the Royal Burgh of Blythswood, ------ 248 I'll awa hame to my Mither, I will, - . . - 260 A King's Speech, --.---.. 264 Stanzas on Woman, --.-._. 268 As ae door steaks another closes, - . - . . 270 IX Robin Hogg's Delight, 273 The Drygate Brig, - - - 279 Verses sung at the Glasgow Typographical Festival, - 283 Petition to Managers at B Dyevvorks, - - - - 286 The Queen's Anthem, 289 'Sanct Mungo, - - - - 291 My Bonnie Wee Wifie, - 293 The Emerald Isle, 294 Sweet Bet of Aberdeen, 296 Jessy M'Lean, 298 Constancy, - 299 Lovely Maiden, .-------- 301 The Nailer's "Wife, 303 The Forsaken, ...------ 306 O Mither ! ony body, 307 June and January, -------- 310 Marry for Love and work for Siller, - - - - 312 My Gudeman, --------- 314 Come then, Eliza, dear, ------- 216 Mary Beaton, ._.------ 317 O, Peter M'Kay, - - ' 320 It's no that thou art bonny, ------- 321 A Mother's Dauty, 323 O, come wi' me, -------- 326 X O, dear is our Hame, ....... 328 Hout awa, Johnny lad, .--..-. 329 The Greek Chief to his Countrymen, - . _ . 331 Dinna Forget, 333 When youthfu' Love's delightfu' ties, ... - 335 Isabel!, - 336 Honest Men and Bonnie Lassies, ..... 339 O Kitty, when that form and face, ..... 341 Aiang Kelvin's Banks, -....._ 342 Baith sides o' the Picture, - ..... 344 "When Gloamin' spreads her mantle grey, ... 346 O, Nancy, 348 Lines on the Steamer Robert Burns, .... 350 Song, 'Twas Morn, 353 The Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the Bill, - - 355 Sir Benjamin Buffstrap, ...--.- 357 POEMS. MY COUNTRY. Mv Country, my Country ! — O there is a charm And spell, in that sound, which must every heart warm : Let us pant at the Line, let us freeze at the Pole, Pronounce but my Country— it thrills through my soul. And where lies the charm in that all-potent sound. That is felt and acknowledged where'er man is found ? And why is our Country — the land of our birth,— The sweetest — the loveliest spot upon earth ? Say ; is it in climate ? in soil ? or in sky ? In gay sunny landscapes that ravish the eye ? In rich golden harvests ? In mines of bright ore ? It may be in these — but there's still something more : 2 The deeds of our fathers, in times that are gone ; Their virtues, their prowess, the fields they have won ; Their struggles for freedom ; the toils they endured ; The rights and the blessings for us they procured : Our music, our language, our laws, our great men, Who have raised themselves high by the sword, or the pen ; Our productions of genius, the fame of our arms, Our youths' native courage, our maidens' soft charms : The dreams of our childhood, the scenes of our youth, Wlien life's stainless current rah placidly smooth ; Our friends, homes and altars ; our substance, though small, And one lovely object, the sweetener of all. From these, and ten thousand endearments beside — From these spring the chai"m, that makes Country our i)ride ; And what wanting these would a paradise be ? A waste — a dark cell — a lone rock in the sea. The adventurous emigrant, laimched on the main, ^VTio goes to behold not his Country again, "What painful reflections must rush through his mind, As he takes the last look of the shores left behind : — The long cherished spot where to manhood he grew, The friends whom he loved, the acquaintance he knew : Parents, children, or wife, left behind broken-hearted. The mutual sorrows that flowed when they parted ; A Country before him, all strange and unknown. Where no heart in unison beats with his own — Such tlioughts through his mind that sad moment will rush, While big swelling drops from his straining eyes gush. But the merchant or warrior, absent afar From his Country, engaged in her commerce or war. Returning, at last, what a flood of delight Fills his soul, when his Country first breaks on his sight ! How cheering the hope, that he shortly will meet, The warm grasp of friendship, or love still more sweet ! And while his heart bounds toward home's hallowed spot. Even Watch, the old house-dog, is then not forgot. But, Oh ! it is only the man who is free, That can boast, " I've a Country that smiles upon me ;" The captive and slave who in wretchedness moan, Alas ! they can scarce call their Country their own. 4 The Laplander, coursing his deserts of snow, Possessing his rein-deer, his sledge and his bow ; On Lapland though warm summer suns rarely beam. No Country on earth is like Lapland — to him. Though scanty his fare, yet, content with his lot, The terrors of slavery trouble him not ; He boimds free as air o'er his own native snows, Secure in his poverty, fearing no foes. But the ill-fated Negro, from home rudely torn, And o'er the Atlantic a poor captive borne ; How frantic the grief of his untutored mind, "While sharp galling fetters his manly limbs bind : Pent up in a dungeon, deprived of fresh air — The victim of sorrow, disease, and despair — Behold the poor negro-man, panting for breath, And gasping, and struggling, and praying for death : Now see him, poor wretch ! to the slave market brought, Like the ox of the stall, to be sold — to be bought, Ik Condemned to hard toil, by the cruel whip flayed ; Oh, God ! was't for this, that the negro was made ? A captive — a slave, on a far foreign coast, Where now is his Country ? — To him it is lost ; A sad recollection is all he has left Of home's sweet endearments, from him wholly reft. But the time may arrive yet, when he, even he ! Will bm-st his vile fetters, and rank with the free ; How glorious to see him then, treading the sod. Erect — independent — the image of God. O, Haytians ! how noble a cause have you won ; You now have a Country, who lately had none ; The trammels that bound you, in shivers you've broke ; And scorned now alike, are the tyi'ant and yoke. The children of Judah in warfai-e o'ercome, And borne away captive afar from their home. By Babylon's rivers how loud was their moan. While they wept their lost Country, laid waste and o'erthrown. Their Zion consumed, and their temple defiled, Of all its rich ornaments robbed and despoiled ; Its vessels, for God's holy service ordained. By lips, all unholy and impious, profaned. B 2 No wonder, then, Jiidah's sad children deplored The havoc and rage of the conqueror's sword ; For while, mocked and insulted, in bondage they lay, What Temple — what Zion — what Country had they ? Not so, the brave Greeks, when obliged to retreat From their Athens destroyed, and retire to their fleet, Oh, say, when their city was one smoking heap. Say where was their Athens ? — 'Twas then on the deep. Yes, they had a Coimtry, for still they were free ; To no foreign conqueror bent they the knee ; Their fields might be wasted, their homes wrapt in flame, Their fleet and their freedom were Country to them. O, glorious example, by patriots of old,— Would to God that their sons were but now half so bold ! One gleam of the steel only waved by such hands, Were sufficient to wither the whole Moslem bands. Then freedom again would smile lovely on Greece, And rapine, and murder, and tyranny cease ; And Athens and Sparta we yet might behold, Out-rivalling Athens and Sparta of old. And the Hellenists— lords of their own native soil — Would reap unmolested the fruits of their toil ; And their Country, no longer by slavery debased, Would present one vast Temple to Liberty raised ! Then since it is freedom, and freedom alone, That halloweth Country and makes it our own ; May she march with the sun, like the sun may she blaze, Till the whole earth be gilded and warmed by her rays. Acciu*st be the villain, and shunned by mankind, Who would fetter the body, or trammel the mind ; May his name be detested, himself from earth driven. Who thus would rob man of the best gift of heaven ! But honoured and blest be the patriot chief. Who fearlessly struggles for mankind's relief; In his Country's affections, long, long may he bloom. And his memory shed an eternal perfume ! And O, my dear Country ! wherever I be, My first — my last prayer shall ascend still for thee. That thou mayest flourish, as lasting as time, Unblighted by slavery, unsullied by crime. BOLIVAR. [The following verses were written, on reading in the Glasgow Chronicle, September, 1816, a Proclamation of General Bolivar ; by which all the slaves in the Carracas, Venezuela, and Ciimana, were declared free citizens, on condition of their taking up arms in defence of the Republic. The number thus emancipated was estimated at Seventy Thousand.] Who can read without emotion. Such a piece of glorious news ? Who that feels the least devotion. Can a tear of joy refuse ? Hail ! thou friend of man — thou Saviour Of the much- wronged sable race, Boi/ivAK ! — thy name for ever, History's brighest page shall grace. Forward, while thy Comi try's pressing Towards Liberty complete. Thou diffusest wide the blessing, Making all partake of it. Seventy Thousand fellow creatures, Differing only in their hue, Freed from slavery's galling felters ; — What a God-like deed to do ! Every badge of slavery broken. Banished now all hopeless grief, See a band of freemen flocking Round the standard of their chief. See ! — no more, the slave, the coward, But the MAN, imdaunted — bold. Striving, panting, pressing forward 'Mong the brave to be enrolled. Who'd not envy thee thy feelings. While thou viewest them thronging nigh ; All their foi-mer bitter wailings, Changed to shouts of frantic joy ? Every eye with gladness beaming, Every act their bliss bespeaks, Tears of joy profusely streaming Down their honest sable cheeks. 10 Fiends, confounded at the action, Shrink within themselves aghast ; Despots, raving with distraction, View their power declining fast. Good men hail it as a prelude Of that blissful happy time. When fair Freedom, so much valued, Shall extend from clime to clime ; Angels, while they view the measure, Give their harps a livelier tone ; God himself looks down with pleasure On a deed so like his own ! Spirits of immortal Wallace, Bruce, Tell, Dokia, Washington, And ye noble Six of Calais, Sterling patriots every one ; Hampden, Sydney, Palmeh, Gerald, Skirving, Margarot, and Muir, Names dear to a groaning world. Honoured martyrs — patriots pure. II Doth that sacred flame of freedom, Fire your breast immortal still. Which, vfhile mortal, struggling— bleeding. You so potently did feel ? Doth it give an augmentation To your bliss supreme, to see An enslaved, insulted nation. Bravely struggling to be free ? Then descend, and kindly hover Round your kindred spirit here. Cheer him, prompt him to recover All that mankind hold most dear ; On his peaceful couch while lying. With a calm untroubled breast. All the sweets of sleep enjoying, Sweets, that tyrants never taste ; Paint, in every glowing colour. On his fancy warm and bright, All your deeds of virtuous valour. All the patriot to excite. 12 Following every bright example, You have set so gloriously, May he cease not, till he trample Under foot, fell Tyranny. Fired already with your story. Brave disinterested few, Lo ! he treads a path of glory. Mad ambition never knew. Persevere, thou Friend of Freedom ! In the cause thou hast begun. Freemen hail thee 7iow to lead them, Till the glorious prize be won. Till the servile cringing homage Paid to rank be vanished quite ; Till the great Creator's image Shall enjoy his every right. W , thine actions glorious Now may hide them in the grave ; True indeed, thou wert victorious. But victorious — to enslave. 13 Here's one action far surpassing All the victories thou hast won : What has been their end ? — replacing Dotard Bourbon on a throne. While the system thou defendest Down shall crumble into dust. And the despots thou befriendest Shall be execrated — curst ! Bolivar's shall stand unshaken. Solid, permanent, sublime. Grateful feelings to awaken. Till the latest knell of time. Yes ! thou spoiler of oppression, Thine shall yield thee deathless fame, While the butchers of creation Shall but reap eternal shame. When those empty glittering baubles, Crowns and sceptres, shine no more. And when kingly childish squabbles Cease to drench the earth with gore — c A 14 Then, with all its charms unfolded. Will appear thy glorious plan, Formed by truth — by Justice moulded. Then, indeed, shall man — be man. 15 A WORD OF ADVICE To the disaffected " Sooty Rabble," ' on their meeting to petition for a Reform in Parliament, in the year 1816 ; by James Block, Esq., Place-hunter. Vile " Sooty Rabble !" what d'ye mean, By raising a' this dreadfu' din ? — Do ye no' ken what horrid sin Ye are committing. By hauding up yoiu* chafts sae thin At sic a meeting : Fine times, indeed ! when squalid spectres, Like you, maun now tiu-n State directors. And meet here to deliver lectures On Parliaments, And, like sae mony bullying Hectors, Cry " To your tents." 16 What deevil brings you here ava," To set up your confounding jaw ? — Sheer off; — or faith we'll learn you a' Anither way yet ; Ye have nae business wi' the law, But to obey it. Base outcast riddlings o' creation. How daur ye speak o' Reformation ? Or spurt your vile disapprobation At men o' worth, Wha represent the happiest nation Upon the yirth ? Whaur could we find sic talents bright ? "VVhaur meet wi' conduct sae upright As theirs? — whilk beams as dear's the light That shines at noon ; And yet ye'U cry there's naething right, For a' they've done. It Ye'll rave and rant 'bout rotten boroughs, Fell fruitfu' source o' a' your sorrows, "Whilk, like the lean, starved, kye o' Pharaoh's, The fat devour, And after a' are just as poor as They were before. But be they poor, or be they rich. Their chartered rights ye daurna touch, Their sacredness has aye been such, And shall be still, That whar's the base unhallowed wretch Daur do them ill? Ye'll cry for equal rights to all, Without regard to great or small, For annual Parliaments ye'll bawl ; But what are ye ? A blank — a mere political Non-entity. c2 18 Frae what grand era do ye date Your first existence in the State, That ye maun rave at sic a rate, And storm about it 'i We ne'er heard tell o't till of late, And therefore doubt it< But you — ye silly credulous pack, Ye maun believe ilk knavish quack, "Wha does possess that cursed knack O' specious wheezing, Whilk ye gulp down for gospel fact, Just 'cause 'tis pleasing. Now will ye blether out your nonsense, 'Bout titled paupers and their pensions. And wonder how they hae the conscience To fleece ye sae ; These things are past your comprehensions. Like mony mae. 19 Ye'll hae the face, too, to debate, And argue 'bout the nation's debt, As if ye meant to liquidate Hk plack that's awn, If so ; — then nae mair idle prate, But pay't aflf han'. If not ; — say ye nae mair about it, We great folks couldna do without it ;' By it, we've a' got spurred and bootet, And (mind your sides) By it we'll soon hae saddles suited To your grim hides. And L — d, we'll ride you till you sweat, And hay and strae we'll mak you eat. Upon your vera hands and feet We'll gar you rin ; The lash, too,— ye shall smartly dree't On your bare skin. 20 Ye'll growl at our most righteous war, And what it was engaged in for ; Silence, ye stupid brutes, nor daur To yell and bray sae, Do ye no ken 'twas to restore Legitimacy ? Behold how Heaven thus wisely brings About sae mony glorious things ; — See Pope and Prelates, Priests and Kings, Restored again. While ilka ane now rules and rings Owre what's his ain. JBehold a base licentious Press, Ay prone just limits to transgress, Pretending ever to redress The people's wrangs. Now, curb'd at last, the power confess Of lawyers' fangs. 21 See how the Church doth proudly raise Her head, in these her glorious days ; Mark how she smites her deadly faes,' The Hug'nots vile, Frying them a' like bugs or flaes 'Mang tar and oiL See how the Inquisition grand Diffuses, wi' unsparing hand. Its various blessings o'er a land That swarms wi' priests ; Dispelling, with the flaming brand. Heretic mists. Behold the Queen (Quean?) of Babylon placed Upon her scarlet-coloured beast, As drunk as Bacchus at a feast, Wi' blood o' saunts, While round her mony a rosy priest Roars, reels, and rants. 22 When ye've reviewed these blessings o'er, Whilk we've sae lang been fechting for, Then say, ye wretches, if ye daur. To speak it but ! Was it a just — a needfu' war. Or was it not ? Vile Pagans ! doom'd thi'ough life to drudge, And howk amang yoiu' native sludge, \Mia is't gies you a right to judge O' siccan matters ; That ye maun grumble, grunt and grudge, At us, your betters ? As hands and feet at first were made. To serve their sovereign lord, the head. So you, ye low-born slavish breed. For a' your fuss. By righteous heaven were decreed To toil for us. 23 Yes, ye were made, ye di-udges vile, To drive the shuttle, plow the soil. To wield the hammer, grasp the file. The plane, the saw, That we might live exempt frae toil, Abune you a'. Ye'll bawl aloud how hard ye're taxed, How sair ye're hungered, pinched and vexed. How oftentimes ye're sair perplexed To get a diet. It's a' a flimsy weak pretext To breed a riot. A growling disaffected crew, There's aye a something wrang wi' you, Nae matter whether toom or fou, Ye'll carp at us ; Gude troth, ye're no half hauden to. And that's your loss. 24 When fouth o' meat and drink ye gat, Scarce kenning then what ye'd be at, Jeshuran-like, ye waxed fat, And fell a-kicking ; But now, ye're weel paid in for that, Wi' scanty picking. And when we deigned to scrimp your food, Mind, wretches, it was for your good,^ In order to correct your blood. And keep it cool, And bring you to a proper mood To bear our rule. Sae dinna girn, and growl, and fret, At siclike usage as ye get, Do not uur Clergy tell you flat, It's for your sins. That ye are gettin't now, sae het. Out owre the shins ? 25 Yes, for your sins an angry God Thus heavily applies the rod ; And daur the offspring o' the clod. The child o' dust, Thus impiously arraign abroad His dealing just? " No, no," I think I hear you cry, " That heavy charge we a' deny, " It's naething but a downright lie," And siclike stuff ; But, baud your tongues, nor daur reply, You've said enough. Base herd ! whase ignorance surpasses The dull stupidity of asses, Think ye the privileged classes Care aught about ye ? If ony mair ye daur to fash us, By George, we'll shoot ye. D 26 It's only makin' matters waur To argue here wi' sic a core, "What need we cast our pearls before A drove o' swine, Wha'd tak and tramp them in the glaur, And rive us syne ? "We've walth o' sodgers in the town, To keep sic ragamuffins down. And gin ye dinna settle soon, By a' that's good ! "We'll gar the common sewers rin brown ** "Wi' your base blood. Tak', therefore, this kind admonition, Recant, repent, be a' submission ; And as a proof that your contrition Is frae the heart, In Gude'sname rive that curst petition Before ye part. 27 Then to your hovels ilka ane, Ye tattered tribes o' skin and bane, There — thank your stars ye're let alane, In peace to starve ; Sic mild forbearance, I maintain. Ye scarce deserve. NOTES. ' "Sooty Rabble," "Dusty Population," "Scowling Multi- tude," &c., were favourite epithets of the great Dr. C rs, when speaking of the industrious classes. * "What Deevil brings you here ava?" It must be distinctly- stated here, that the pious Place-hunter does not use this exclama- tion in the same sense as profane swearers do ; — no ; he puts it by way of interrogation, as he is perfectly certain that such a rab- ble could only meet at the instigation of some infernal agent. 3 " "VVe great folks," &c. No wonder Mr Block ranks himself among the great, seeing he was brought up in Herriot's Hospital, and was subsequently employed for some time, as hoots, in an ob- scure inn, somewhere near " Auld Reekie." 28 * " Mark how she smites her deadly faes." This alhides to what took place at Nismes after the restoration of the Bourbons, where the French Protestants suffered severely from the High Church party. * " And when we deign to scrimp your food." By passing the late corn bill, at which time Kirkman Finlay cut a very conspicuous figure in more places than one. ^ " AYe'll gar the common sewers rin brown," &c. The reader may here suppose that the word " brown'' is introduced merely for the sake of rhyme, without paying any regard to sense. This is by no means the case. A pure Aristocrat firmly believes that the blood of the " Sooty Kabble" is neither so pure, sc rich, nor so red as his own ; hence his aversion to, and detestation of the working classes. 29 THE MUCKING O' GEORDIE'S BYRE. Written in 1819. There lives an auld farmer ca'd Geordie, A wee bittock south o' the Tweed, O' three bits o' farms he's ca'd lordie, Three snug little mailin's indeed : It's now about three score o' winters Since he did the mailin's acquire, Weel stockit wi' routers and grunters, A stackyard, a barn, an' a byre. A farm, too, he had owre the water, At least, he aye thocht it his ain ; But he lost it, poor gowk, (deil mak' matter,) And how — I will try to explain : He milket the cattle sae sairly. That, troth, they began soon to tire, At last they turned tail on him fairly, An' gat for themsel's a new Byre. i>2 30 But though he thus lost a guid mailin', The loss o't ne'er made him mair wise, For he was possessed o' this failin', He'd ne'er tak' a wholesome advice. He keepit a pack, too, about him, Wha aft to such heights wad aspire. As to do what they liket without him, And mak' their ain use of the Byre. An' aye the maist part o' their labours Was lickin' the cream o' ilk farm, An' makin' him quarrel wi' his neighbours, Whilk bred the poor cattle great harm ; For in droves they were ca'd aff and slaughtered, To keep up the strife and the ire. The rest were half fed an' half watered. And ne'er gat a clean muckit Byre. At last the poor body grew silly, Or rather, gaed wrang in the head. So they made his auld son — a queer billie — Half factor, half laird in his stead ; 31 But he grew sae drucken and crazy, He dosed for hale days by the fire, Or boozed wi' some fat-hippit hizzey, An' ne'er wair'd a thocht on the Byre. He keepit the pack, too, about him. That gulled his auld father before, So up in a closet they shut him. And ane Mouthy guarded the door ; And nane o' his herd could get near him, To breathe a complaint — or desire, For Mouthy took care ay to scare them. For fear they wad hint at the Byre. By somethmg that's ca'd " social order," The grunters were ringed in the snout. An' squeezed was ilk rowter's toom udder. Till ilk drap o' milk was wrung out ; An' sair were they scrimpit o' fodder. To let Geordie's pack get their hire, Wha loot his affairs a' gang thro'ther. By keeping sae dirty a Byre. 32 The pleiigh it stood still in the furrow, The beasts were unable to draw, An' covered wi' rust was the harrow, The flail it lay broken in twa ; The hedges wi' weeds were up-chokit, The cart-wheels were laired in the mire, An' waur than a' that, ne'er was muckit The cattle's last refuge — the Byre. The brutes that sae lang had been patient, Began then to rowt an' to roar, For now they could see what occasioned Their being sae lean an' sae poor. But mark the upshot o' their rowting ! The butchers, wi' gullies sae dire. Fell on them wi' slashing an' cutting. To mak' them content wi' their Byre. But now they're far louder than ever. They bellow wi' might an' wi' main. An' threaten to gore an' to skiver The first that daur fash them again : 33 In droves too, they gather thegither, An' closely united conspire, To break baith the stake an' the tether, Before that they want a clean Byre. They see how they used to be bilket, AVhen loosely they ran o'er the bent. But now they declare they'll be milket Nae langer, without their consent. An' though they respect Factor GeorJie, An' likewise his auld doited Sire, They vow they'll tak' measures ere New'rday, For mucking ilk sta' in the Byre. 34 CHARLES JAMES FOX. COMPOSED FOE, AND SUNG AT THE ANNIVBESAKY OF HIS BIRTH, 24tli January, 1827. Air,—" Over the Water to Charlie." Ye've heard o' " the Pilot that weathered the storm >" But where is the vessel he saved ? Like a log on the deep, lies her auld shattered form, That for ages the tempest had braved : The rats are devouring her now scanty stores. Her timbers are worm-eaten sairly, Her hands, discontented, desert her by scores, For lang they've been victualled but sparely. Her Captain, poor chiel, hardly kens what to do. To fit her again for tight sailing. For so heartless and weak are her once sturdy crew. That their efforts seem quite unavailing : 35 But O ! had her captain been captain langsyne, She ne'er wad liae suffered sae sairly ; For then, for his steersman, he sure wad hae ta'en That true " heart of oak"— honest Charlie. He weel ken'd the shallows, the breakers, and rocks. That such vessels founder and split on ; Then sure they were daft, not to tak' Charlie Fox For pilot, yet mak' Willie Pitt one : For he, through the tempest, drove recklessly on, Tho' warned o' the danger by Charlie, Till rigging and masts overboard were a' blown. Which crushed her best hands most severely. Then what can be done to preserve her afloat, When she scarce can hoist one of her flags, now ? For what are her jury masts?— next thing to nought : Her sails ? — bits of auld rotten rags, now : And the billows of ruin her hull so o'erwhelm, That they threaten to swallow her fairly ; Alas ! that e'er Willie was placed at the helm, That should hae been guided by Charlie. 36 For he was the lad that coiild hand, reef, and steer ; His compass could box to a hair, too — Had skill of the weather, be't cloudy or clear, Could tell when for squalls to prepare, too ; And though he could swig off his can of good flip. He stDl did his duty most rarely, So that each jolly seaman, on board of the ship. Respected and loved gallant Charlie. Then here's to the memory of generous Fox, For nane to our hearts should be dearer ; And may the auld ship yet survive her late shocks, Be repaired, and have tight lads to steer her ; And here's to the Captain that bears the command — May he keep by his post late and early ; ,\nd may the Britannia still henceforth be manned With brave honest fellows, like Charlie. 37 A LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE GREENOCK ADVERTISER, Kequiring him to give a reason for the wonderful appearance of the " Aurora Borealis," on Saturday night, the 13th October, ia33. Dear Mr Editor, — I beg you'll deign. In your next Thursday's paper, to explain What was the reason of the streamers' light Shining so brilliantly, the other night Emitting all around such glorious rays, As made the heavens seem almost in a blaze : And from the Pole, up to the Milky Way, Turned night into a soft imperfect day. Now floating, one wide sea of living light ; Now one vast sheet of pure transparent white. Moving along majestically grand ; Now wildly darting out, on every hand. Into ten thousand bright fantastic forms Quick as the lightnings amid tropic storms, Or mimicking the flash of falchions bright, When armies meet in wild tumultuous fight ; E 38 jf ow — but I here must stop ; — my feeble quill Cannot describe what's indescribable. — But, Mr Editor, I beg you'll say AVhat was the reason of this grand display. Say, could it be, as some wise folks suppose. The light reflected from the Polar snows. When, by some wild commotion in the air, They're rudely whirled and drifted, here and there. And, as they fly, assume each varied form. As moved by the monarch of the storm ? Or was it, as some others think, the light, Thrown up by countless shoals of fish at night. Which hold their gambols in the northern deep, When other sober fish are gone to sleep ? And that on this particular night the whales. With joy and gladness glancing in their scales, Had met in mjTiads in the northern sea, To hold a high and joyous Jubilee, In honour of their being freed once more From wicked whalers who infest their shore, Dealing destruction with their dread harpoons, But who had left them now for eight long moons : And while around their iceberg tables they. In mirth and feasting, passed the time away— 39 Drinking most loyal, patriotic toasts. And cursing ships that visited their coasts, And passing compliments from side to side In all the pompousness of whalish pride : (For whales, like men, we're told can meet and dine, And drink each other's healths in generous — hrine ;) Or, while they gambol through the mazy dance — Retreating now — now making an advance — Reeling and wheeling with their partners fair — Now setting here, now nimbly darting there. And giving now and then a graceful snort. By way of keeping up their gentle sport. Say, while such scenes as these were going on, Was't the reflection of their scales that shone Upon the sky, and made so bright a glow? If this was not the case, pray tell us so. Or, was it, as some folks are pleased to say. That Captain Ross, the time he was away. Was busily employed, with his brave crew. In gathering and barrelling up the dew That falls about the Pole each summer night. And is possessed of qualities so bright, And lasting, too, that when the summer's done. It serves the people there instead of sun : 40 And that the worthy Captain wisely thought. If such a freight to Britain could be brought. It soon might supersede the use of gas, And be a benefit to every class : That full of this idea, he, brave fellow, ,Got safely shipped on board the Isabella Two barrels of this pare ethereal stuff, Thinking that quantity would be enough To make a trial ; and, if it succeeded. More could be had whenever it was needed r But that, alas! on nearing Orkney's coast. The Isabella being tempest-tost. Her rolling and her pitching (sad relation) Produced among the dew a fermentation, So strong and rapid, that, before the crew Had time to think, the hoops asunder ffew — Out burst the dew with such a thundering sound, 'Twas heard for twenty thousand leagues around ; Up flew the light in two vast blazing streams. Outstripping far the sun's most potent beams ; And as they rose they wide and wider spread, Till all the sky was glowing overhead. Now tell us, Mr Editor, (for you Must know the truth,) if this strange tale be true. 41 And if it was the cause of that great lights Which was beheld on that particalar night ? But there is yet another reason given For this great light which shone that night from heaven ; And it is said 'twas Bishop S ■wlio gave it : However, as I heard it you shall have it ; But recollect, I vouch not for its truth, And will not be amenable, forsooth. — Well, — it is said the Reverend Pastor told The pious bleaters of his numerous fold. The Sunday morning after it took place. That this light was a miracle of Grace, Sent to convince an unbelieving world, Which for its sins to Tophet should be hurled, But chiefly to convince this wicked land. That the " Beloved," departed " Ferdinand," Was one of those few favourites of Heaven To whom the glorious privilege was given Of an apotheosis grand — sublime. Such as had scarcely been since Peter's time : That this was a decree of Holy Church, Who never left her true sons in the lurch, £ 2 42 But still rewarded them for their good deeds, — Especially for counting well their beads, And paying homage to the holy saints In heaven, now free from all unholy taints : That Ferdinand, the time he was below, Did still a holy zeal for these things show ; So much so that the Church had now decreed The highest seat in heaven as his meed : That being freed last night from Purgatory, The well "Beloved," on his way to glory, Arriving safely at St. Peter's porch — That holy Rock, on whom is built the Church, Saluted him with a most gracious smile, And kindly shook him by the hand the while. Telling him his embroideries and flowers Would be his passport to the heavenly bowers : That Ferdinand then showed the petticoat, Which he, on earth, had for the Virgin wrought. And brought it here with him to be presented To her, upon the day he should be sainted, — (For sainting, if the Canons speak aright, Is just the dubbing one a heavenly knight,) Hoping he'd be acknowledged then by her. Her well beloved, chief embroiderer : 43 That the Apostle took it in his hand, Praised it, and blessed the pious Ferdinand ; And while upon the petticoat he breathed, The holy breath so twined, and curled, and wreathed About the flowers, that, losing earth's pale hue. They bright and brighter every moment grew, Till catching all the glow of heaven's rich dyes, They shed so rich a radiance o'er the skies, As ne'er was matched since the creation's birth, When fresh and lovely was this new born earth. Ere it was blasted by the crimes of men. When all was peace and purity — and when The morning stars together sang on high. And shouted all the sons of God for joy. Now he (the Bishop) would make bold to say. That this was a most merciful display Of Heaven's long-suffering with the sons of men, To bring them back to the right way again. Into the heart of this our holy fold, From which their wicked fathers strayed of old ; He therefore hoped that all would warning take. And of this gracious dispensation make A right improvement and a proper use, And never more to slander or traduce 44 The blessed memory of him, now gone And left an earthly for a heavenly throne ; For truly the departed King of Spain A bright example was for all who yet should reign. Now, Mr Editor, as this display Was noted in the Journals of the day, As the most glorious ever seen by men. Who scarce can hope to see the like again ; Pray tell us, for we must depend on you, Which of these reasons is most likely to be true ?" October 17th, 1833. 45 COLIN DULAP. We're muckle obliged to you, Colin Dulap, We're muckle obliged to you, Colin Dulap ; Ye're truly a worthy auld patriot chap. To enlighten your country sae, Colin Dulap. Ye patronize lear, and ye propagate light. To guide erring man in the way that is right ; Ne'er under a bushel your candle you clap, But let it lowe openly, Colin Dulap. A burning and shining light close by the Clyde, Illuming the country around, far and wide ; Ye bleeze like a beacon upon a hill tap — A general benefit, Colin Dulap. Frank Jeffrey, and Chalmers, and Brougham, and so forth, Diffuse their cheap tracts to enlighten the earth ; Mony thanks to the chiels for this praiseworthy stap ; Mony mae thanks to you, honest Colin Dulap. 46 Your light unto me has been better than theirs, — For ay when in Glasgow at markets or fairs, And daundering hame rather light i' the tap, Ye're a lamp to my feet, worthy Colin Dulap. The burns and the bog-holes, the dubs and the dykes. The howes and the humplocks, the sheughs and the sykes. And ilk thing against whilk my head I might rap, Ye help me to shun them a', Colin Dulap. Even Spunkie himsel' is nae bogle to me, "When out through the moss I march homeward wi' glee ; Wi' my cud in my nieve — in my noddle a drap. Cheered onward by thee, my guide, Colin Dulap. We pay for the sun and we pay for the moon. We pay for ilk starnie that blinks frae aboon ; But your kindly light never costs us a rap, 'Tis as free as the light to us, Colin Dulap, The sun I'd like weel, gin the sun wad bide still, But then ilka night he slides down 'yont the hill. Like a plump ruddy carle gaun to tak his bit nap ; You never forsake us sae, Colin Dulap. 47 Na, waur ! — ilk winter he's afF and awa', Like our fine bloods to Italy, shunning the snaw, Scarce deigning a blink owre a hoary hill tap, But you're ever wi' us, kind Colin Dulap. The moon does fu' weel when the moon's in the lift. But, O ! the loose limmer tak's mony a shift, Whiles here, and whiles there, and whiles under a hap : But your's is the steady light, Colin Dulap. Na, mair ! like true friendship, the mirker the night, The mair you let out your vast volume o' light ; When sackcloth and sadness the heavens enwrap, 'Tis then you're maist kind to us, Colin Dulap. The day and the night unto you are the same, For still ye spread out your braid sheet o' red flame ; When this weary world soundly tak's its bit nap. You sleep not— you slumber not, Colin Dulap. The folks about Glasgow may brag o' their gas. That just, like a' glaring things, pleases the mass ; Gin they're pleased wi't themsel's, I'll ne'er snarl nor snap. Quite contented wi' you, fnendly Colin Dulap. 48 Aye, aften I'm muckle behadden to you, While wauchlin' alang between sober and fou, Wi' a stoiter to this side, to that side a stap, Ye shaw me the gate ay, guid Colin Dulap. Gin neighbouring farmers felt gratefu' like me. They'd club a' thegither a present to gie, O' a massy punch-bowl, wi' a braw mounted cap, To the man that befriends them ay, Colin Dulap. I ken for mysel', that a gift I intend, To ane that sae aften has proved my gude friend— O' a braw braid blue bonnet, vrC strawberry tap. To be worn ay on New'rdays, by Colin Dulap. I canna weel reckon how lang ye ha'e shin'd, But I'm sure it's as lang as my mither has mind ; And in a' that lang while there has ne'er been a gap In your body o' light, canty Colin Dulap. O lang may ye shine to enlighten us here, And when you depart for some new unknown sphere. That to shine on mair glorious may still be your hap. Is the prayer o' your weelwisher, Colin Dulap. 49 JAMIE M'NAB.' Gae find me a match for blythe Jamie M'Nab ; Aye, find me a match for blythe Jamie M'Nab ; The best piece o{ stuff cut frae Nature's ain wab. Is that Prince o' gude fallows— blythe Jamie M'Nab. In her kindliest mood Madam Nature liad been, When first on this warld Jamie opened his een ; For he ne'er gied a whimper, nor utter'd a sab, But hame he cam' laughin'— blythe Jamie M'Nab. In process o' time Jamie grew up apace, And still play'd the smile on his rosnd honest face, Except when a tear, like a pure hinny-blad. Was shed o'er the wretched by Jamie M'Nab. And Jamie is still just the best o' gude chiels— Wi' the cheerfu' he laughs, wi' the waefu' he feels ; And the very last shilling that's left in his fab. He'll share wi' the needfu'— blythe Jamie M'Nab. p 50 Blythe Jamie M'Nab is sae furthy and free, "While he's cracking wi' you, while he's joking wi' me. That I ne'er wad wish better than twa hours' confab Owre a horn o' gude yill wi' blythe Jamie M'Nab. Blythe Jamie M'Nab is nae thin airy ghaist. For he measures an ell-and-twa-thirds round the waist ; Yet a wittier wag never trod on a slab, Tlian that kind-hearted billie— blythe Jamie M'Nab. Yes, Jamie has bulk, yet it damps not his glee ; But his flashes o' fancy come fervid and free, As bright frae his brain, as if lively " Queen Mab" Held nightly communings wi' Jamie M'Nab. He tells sic queer stories, and rum funny jokes. And mak's sic remarks upon a' public folks. That Time rattles by like a beau in a cab, "While sitting and list'ning to Jamie M'Nab. 1 carena for Tory — I carena for "Whig — I mindna your Radical raver a fig ; But gie me the man that is staunch as a stab For the rights o' his caste, like blythe Jamie M'Nab. 51 Amang the soft sex, too, he shows a fine taste, By admiring what's handsome, and lovely, and chaste ; But the lewd tawdry trollop, the tawpie, and drab. Can never find favour wi' Jamie M'Nab. Some folks, when they meet you, are wonderfu' fair. And wad hug you as keen as an auld Norway bear ; The next time they see you, they're sour as a crab— - That's never the gate wi' blythe Jamie M'Nab. No ! — Jamie is ever the same open wight, Aye easy, aye pleasant, frae morning till night; While ilk man, frae my Lord, down to plain simple Hab, Gets the same salutation frae Jamie M'Nab. Had mankind at large but the tithe o' his worth, "We then might expect a pure heaven on earth ; Nae rogues then would fash us wi' grip and wi' grab. But a' wad be neebours — like Jamie M'Nab. Lang, lang hae blythe Jamie and Samuel * the sage. Together sped on to the ripeness of age ; But "live by the way" — (we must needs pick and dab) — Is the motto of Samuel and Jamie M'Nab. 52 And on may they speed as they've hitherto done, And lang rin the course they have hitherto run ; Wi' a pound in their pouch and a watch in their fab, Sage Samuel the soncy— blythe Jamie M'Nab. Yes — lang may the soncy gudeman o' the Herald, Wi' Jamie M'Nab, wauchle on through this warld; And when, on life's e'ening, cauld death steeks his gab. May he mount up on high— wi' blythe Jamie M'Nab. NOTES. ' Connected with the Glasgow Herald Newspaper, and well en- titled to the high praise awarded to him. • Samuel Hunter, Esq., late Editor of the Glasgow Herald. 63 SHON M'NAB. Tune—" For a' that an' n' tliat.''' Xainsel pe Maister Shon M'Nab, Pe auld's ta forty-five, man, And mony troll affairs she's seen, Since she was bom alive, man ; She's seen the warl' turn upside down, Ta shentleman turn poor man, And him was ance ta beggar loon. Get knocker 'pon him's door, man. She's seen ta stane bow't owre ta purn^ And syne be ca'd fa prig, man ; She's seen ta whig ta tory turn, Ta tory turn ta whig, man ; But a' ta troll things she pe seen, "Wad teuk twa days to tell, man. So, gin you likes, she'll told you shust Ta story 'bout hersel, man : — r2 54 Nainsel was first to herd ta kyes, 'Pon Morven's ponnie praes, man, Whar tousand pleasant days she'll spent, Pe pu' ta nits and slaes, man ; An' ten she'll pe ta herring-poat. An' syne she'll pe fish-cod, man, Ta place tey'U call Newfoimdhims-land, Pe far peyont ta proad, man. But, och-hon-ee! one misty night Nainsel will lost her way, man. Her poat was trown'd, hersel got fright. She'll mind till dying day, man. So fait ! she'll pe fish-cod no more. But back to Morven cam', man. An' tere she turn ta whisky still, Pe prew ta wee trap tram, man. But foul pefa' ta ganger loon, Pe put her in ta shell, man, Whar she wad stood for mony a tay, Shust 'cause she no got bail, man : 55 But out she'll got— nae matters hoc, And came to Glasgow town, man, "Whar tousand wonders mhor she'll saw, As she went up and down, man. Ta first thing she pe wonder at, As she cam down ta street, man, Was man's pe traw ta cart himsel, Shust 'pon him's nain twa feet, man ; Och on ! och on ! her nainsel thought. As she wad stood and glower, man, Puir man ! if they mak you ta horse — Should gang 'pon a' your/oMr, man. And when she turned ta comer round, Ta black man tere she see, man, Pe grand ta music in ta kist, And sell him for pawpee, man ; And aye she'll grand, and grund, and grund. And turn her mill about, man, Pe strange ! she will put nothing in, Yet aye teuk music out, man. 56 And when she'll saw ta people's walk In crowds alang ta street, man, She'll wonder whar tey a' got spoons To sup teir pick o' meat, man ; For in ta place whar she was porn, And tat right far awa, man, Ta teil a spoon in a' ta house, But only ane or twa, man. She glower to see ta Mattams, too, Wi' plack clout 'pon teir face, man, Tey surely tid some graceless teed, Pe in sic black disgrace, man ; Or else what for tey'll hing ta clout Owre prow, and cheek, and chin, man. If no for shame to show teir face. For some ungodly sin, man ? Pe strange to see ta wee bit kirn, Pe jaw the waters out, man. And ne'er rin dry, though she wad rin A' tay like mountain spout, man ; 57 Pe stranger far to see ta lamps, Like spunkies in a raw, man, A' pruntin' pright for want o' oil, And teil a wick ava, man. Ta Glasgow folk be unco folk, Hae tealings wi' ta teil, man, — Wi' fire tey grund ta tait o' woo, "Wi' fire tey card ta meal, man ; Wi' fire tey spin, wi' fire tey weave, Wi' fire do ilka turn, man ; Na, some o' tern will eat ta fire, And no him's pelly purn, man. Wi' fire tey mak' ta coach pe rin, Upon ta railman's raw,' man, Nainsel will saw him teuk ta road. An' teil a horse to traw, man ; Anither coach to Paisley rin, Tey'll call him Lauchie's motion, But oich ! she was plawn a' to bits, By rascal rogue M'Splosion. 58 W'i' tire te;y niak' ta vessels rin Upon ta river Clyde, man, She saw't hersel, as sure's a gun. As she stood on ta side, man ; But gin you'll no pelieve her word. Gang to ta Proomielaw, man. You'll saw ta ship wi' twa mill-wheels, Pe grund ta water sma', man. Oich ! sic a town as Glasgow town, She never see pefore, man, Ta houses tere pe mile and mair, Wi' names 'pon ilka toor, man. An' in teir muckle windows tere. She'll saw't, sure's teath, for sale, man, Praw shentleman's pe want ta head, An' leddies want ta tail, man. She wonders what ta peoples do Wi' a' ta praw tings tere, man, Gie her ta prose, ta kilt, an' hose. For tem she wadna care, man. 59 x4.nd aye gie her ta pickle sneesh, And wee drap parley pree, man, For a' taipraws in Glasgow town She no gie paw-prown-pee, man, 60 HIGHLAND POLITICIANS. Come, Tougall, tell me what you'll thocht Apout this Bill Reform, man, Tal's preeding sic a muckle steer. An' like to raise ta storm, man ; For noo ta peoples meet in troves, On both sides o' ta Tweed, man, An' spoket speechums loud an' lang, An' very pauld inteed, man. 'Teed, Tonald, lad, she'll no pe ken, For she's nae politish, man, But for their speechums loud an' lang, She wadna gie tat sneesh, man ; For gin she'll thocht ta thing was richt, She wad her beetock traw, man. An' feught like tamn — till ance ta Bill Was made coot Gospel law, man. 61 Hoot toot, man Tougall ! tat micht do When Shordie Twa did ring, man, An' her fore-faiters trew ta tirk, Ta mak teir Chairlie king, man ; But tirks, an' pistols, an' claymores, Pe no for me nor you, man ; Tey'll a' pe out o' fashions gane Since pluity Waterloo, man. Last nicht she'll went to pay her rent, Ta laird gie her ta tram, man. An' tell her tat this Bill Reform Was shust a nonsense tamn, man ! Pe no for honest man's, she'll say, Pe meddle 'flairs o' State, man, But leave those matters to him's Ckace, Him's Cloby, an' ta great man. She'll talk 'pout Revelations, too, Pe pad an' wicked thing, man, Wad teuk awa ta 'stinctions a', Frae peggar down to king, man. G 62 Nae doubt?, nae doubts, her nainsel said, But yet tare's something worse, man ; Ta Revolutions tat will teuk Ta puir man's cow nor horse, man. An' ten she'll wish ta Ministers Pe kicket frae teir place, man : Och hon, och hon ! her nainsel said, Tat wad pe wofu' case, n)an ; For gi-n ta Ministers pe fa'. Precentors neist maun gang, man — Syne wha wad in ta Punker stood. An' lilt ta godly sang, man ? Och ! ten ta laird flee in a rage. An' sinful" diel* me ca', man— Me tell him no pe understood "What him will spoke ava, man ; Ta sinfu' diel !— na, na, she'll say, She'll no pelang tat clan, man, Hersel's a true an' trusty Grant, As coot as 'nitter man, man. €S But Tougall, lad ! my 'pinion is, An' tat she'll freely gie, man, Ta laird pe fear tat this Reform Will patter you an' me, man : For like some ither lairds, she still "Wad ride upon our pack, man ; But fait ! she'll maybe saw ta tay Pe tell him 'nitfer crack, man. For Shames tafeeter\ say this Bill "Will mak' ta rents pe fa', man ; Pe mak' ta sneesh an' whisky cheap, Ta ganger chase awa, man ; An' ne'er let lairds nor factors more Pe do ta poor man's harm, man, Nor purn him's house apoon him's head, An' trive him aff ta farm, man. Weel, Tonald ! gin I'll thochtit that, Reformer I will turn, man. For wi' their 'pressions an' their scorns, My very pluit will purn, man : 64 Ocli, shust to hae ta tay about, Wi' some tat I will ken, man : Tey'll pi-unt my house to please ta laird. Cot ! let them try't again, man ! NOTES. * Infidel. t James the Weaver. 65 BEHAVE TOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK. AlB — " Good morrow to your night cap.'''' Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk, And dinna be sae rude to me, As kiss me sae before folk. It wadna gie me meikle pain. Gin we were seen and heard by nane. To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane ; But, guidsake ! no before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk ; "Whate'er you do, when out o' view, Be cautious ay before folk. Consider, lad, how folk will crack. And what a great affair they'll mak' O' naething but a simple smack. That's gi'en or ta'en before folk. G 2 66 Behave yoursel' b :fore folk, Behave yoursel' before folk ; Nor gi'e the tongue o' auld or young Occasion to come o'er folk. It's no through hatred o' a kiss, That I sae plainly tell you this ; But, losh ! I tak' it sair amiss To be sae teazed before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave joursel' before folk ; When we're our lane ye may tik' ane, But fient a ane before folk. I'm sure wi' you I've been as free As ony modest lass should be ; But yet, it doesna do to see Sic freedom used before folk. Beiiave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk ; I'll ne'er submit again to it — So mind you that — before folk. 67 Ye tell me that my face is fair ; It may be sae — T dinna care — But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair As ye ha'e done before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk ; Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks. But aye be douce before folk. Ye tell me tliat my lips are sweet, Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit ; At ony rate, its hardly meet To pree their sweets before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk ; Gin that's the case, there's time and place. But surely no before folk. But, gin you really do insist That I should suffer to be kiss'd, Gae, get a license frae the priest. And mak' me yours before folk. 68 Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk ; And when we're ane, baith flesh and bane. Ye may tak' ten — before folk. 6i» THE ANSWER. Can I behave, can I behave, Can I behave before folk, "When, wily elf, your sleeky self Gars me gang gyte before folk ? In a' you do, in a' ye say, Ye've sic a pawkie coaxing way. That my poor wits ye lead astray. An' ding me doilt before folk ! Can I behave, can I behave, Can I behave before folk, While ye ensnare, can I forbear To kiss you, though before folk ? Can I behold that dimpling cheek, Whar love 'raang sunny smiles might beek. Yet, howlet-like, my e'elids steek. An' shun sic light, before folk? 70 Can I behave, can I behave, Can I behave before folk. When ilka smile becomes a wile, Enticing me — before folk ? That lip, like Eve's forbidden fruit. Sweet, plump, an' ripe, sae tempts me to't, That I maun pree't. though I should rue't, Aye twenty times — before folk ! Can I behave, can I behave. Can I behave before folk. When temptingly it offers me So rich a treat — before folk ? That gowden hair sae sunny bright ; That shapely neck o' snawy white ; That tongue, even when it tries to flyte. Provokes me till't before folk i Can I behave, can I behave. Can I behave before folk. When ilka charm, young, fresh, an' warm, Cries, " kiss me now" — before folk ? 71 An' oh ! that pawkie, rowin e'e, Sae roguishly it blinks on me, I canna, for my saul, let be, Frae kissing you before folk ! Can I behave, can I behave, Can I behave before folk. When ilka glint conveys a hint To tak' a smack— before folk ? Ye own, that were we baith our lane, Ye wadna grudge to grant me ane ; Weel, gin there be nae harm in't then, What harm is in't before folk ? Can I behave, can I behave. Can I behave before folk, J^ly hypocrite ! an anchorite Could scarce desist — before folk ! But after a' that has been said, Since ye are willing to be wed. We'll hae a " blythesome bridal" made, When ye'U be mine before folk ! Then I'll behave, then I'll behave, Then I'll behave before folk ; For whereas then, ye'll aft get " ten," It winna be before folk ! THE WAILINGS OF CORRUPTION, Occasioned by the recent Defeat and Detection of her Spies and Informers, with a prediction of her Downfall. "Wkitten in 1817. What howlings are these from that huge lofty dwelling, As if some fell sorc'ress were struggling with death ? 'Tis beldam corruption lies cursing and yelling. And tainting the air with her putrified breath. She curses the fate of her Spies and Informers, She wails o'er their efforts so fruitlessly made, When they prowled thro' the land for the blood of Reformers, Seduced the unwary — then basely betrayed. To slake her dire thirst she on blood fondly reckoned. When forth she commissioned them warm in the cause But now from her dream of delusion awakened. She howls as if hell had rent open its jaws. 74 For, lo ! 'midst their zeal for their worthy employers, (Who know how to estimate talents aright,) While grasping at victory, these fiend-like destroyers Have fairly been baffled and dragged forth to light. When crushed 'neath a burden of galling taxation, Brought on by a profligate blood-thirsty set, The peaceable sufTrers, throughout the whole nation. To pray for redress, in their villages met ; 'Twas then that corruption, half frantic with terror, Bethought her of aid from her blood-himting Spies, And straightway prepared, to excite dread and horror, A pair of green bags — crammed with horrible lies ! She called on her Reynolds, so famous for murder. Her Oliver, Castles, and Richmond most dear. And, dubbing them knights of the Spies' noble order, Bestowed the insignia they henceforth should wear. (The insignia consists of a cross-beamed gibbet. From which a hemp ribbon hangs gracefully down, With a noose at the end, whence they yet may exhibit Their chivalrous feats to amuse a whole town.) 75 Then to prove how they'd shine in their several high stations, Their talents she scanned with a scrutiuous eye. And found each possessed of the qual'fications Essential in forming a full finished Spy. The heart of a tiger — the eye of an eagle — The ears of a watch-dog — a bawd's brazen face — The tongue of a syren — the snout of a beagle, Keen-scented, for tracing their game in the chase. " Go forward, my champion, be zealous and prosper," Said the old bloated hag, with a self-soothing grin, " Note down every word — catch at every close whisper, And learn what these mad innovators would mean. " If they wish for redress in a peaceable manner. If timely reform be the whole of their aim ; Then unfurl to their fancy rebellion's black banner, And with revolution their bosoms inflame. " Let equalization be still your chief subject, And converts to Spence's wild principles make ; Nor stick at base lies to attain our grand object, For who would not lie when his all is at stake ': v 76 " And when for revolt you have ripened the wretches. And made every heart with keen ardour to beat ; (.), then ! if there's virtue or power in these clutches, I'll make them repent of their furious heat. " Go forward, my sons, take my blessing and prosper. Your zeal shall insure you a long life of ease ; Note down every word, seize on every close whisper. And go every length in seduction you please." They bowed — they departed — and forth went a prowling For victims, to glut the insatiate maws Of her and her offspring, whose terrible growling Breathed death to the wretch who fell under their paws. Hence nothing was heard of but plots and sedition. High-treason, rebellion, and blasphemy wild ; Because that the people had dared to petition In plain honest language, firm, manly, and mild. The laws were suspended— the prisons were glutted — Indictments preferred— and juries inclosed ; But mark !— by her own wicked efforts outwitted, Corruption at once is defeated— exposed. Her suborning of wretches she fed and supported, To make them state facts, as she wished them to do ; And every vile shift unto which she resorted, All, all ! is ripped up and laid open to view. And now it turns out that her creatures had hatched Each damnable plot, to attain her own ends ; Hence, quick from her clutches her victims are snatched. And safely restored to their freedom and friends. 'Tis that makes her howl like a hag at departing, 'Tis that makes her offspring re-echo her cries ; She foresees that her doom, though delayed, is most certain. She knows she must fall never more to arise. Although for a time she may seem to recover. Although a faint glimmering may gleam on her still, 'Twill be as the dream of a heart-broken lover. Who only awakens more keenly to feel. For when lulled to repose 'midst her numberless engines Of fraud and oppression, of terror and power. The morn of her doom shall awake her with vengeance. And plague, chasing plague, shall assail her that hour. H 2 78 And as she insulted, afflicted, tormented. The good and the upright who hated her ways, So much shall her portion of woe be augmented, When Justice in terrible splendour shall blaze. Her chief— her most guilty partakers in plunder, "Who in her own lap have been pampered and fed. They, too, shall partake of her fate, when the thunder Of just retribution shall break on her head. But how are these judgments at last to assail her ? And what shall occasion her terrible fall ? In the hour of her need, her resources will fail her. Then down she must tumble, bereft of her all. And over her head has a load been suspended, More huge and enormous than Atlas e'er bore. Which will fall with a crash, as she wallows extended In misery's gulph — to engulph her the more. While thus she lies sunk in the depths of affliction. The kings of the earth shall with terror shrink back. When they see her devoted to lasting destruction, An awful example of infamy black. 79 As fares an old strumpet, grown hoary in whoredom, When every enticement her dupes cannot keep, Who each stands aloof since the beauties that lured him, Have faded, and only left wrinkles more deep : So fare shall Corruption, when all those forsake her, Who sue for her favours, by which they may live ; For who, when her sorrows so thick overtake her. Will choose to remain when she has not to give ? A few fleeting years — and unfriended, neglected, Bereft of her lovers — her riches all gone, She'll lie a vile outcast, forlorn and dejected, And brood o'er the days that for ever are flown. And none will be foimd then to comfort or soothe her, Not even her own creatures she fostered so well ; But each passer-by shall detest her and loathe her, Till down, down! she sink to her own native hell. Now ye who around her have wantonly revelled, And basked in the beams of her prosperous day, When you see your sole prop to perdition thus levelled. Ah ! how your proud hearts will be struck with dismay. 60 Unpitied — detested— and loathing existence, You'll hide your base heads in some dark lonely nook, Or, roaming like beggars, implore a subsistence From those on whom once you would scarce deign a look. But ye who have felt her dire lash of displeasure, All ye who for suffering humanity sigh. When ye see her receiving, of wrath, her full measure, Kejoice, for your long-wished-for day dravveth nigh. Though now your best motives are misrepresented. Though now your best actions are held up as wrong, Y et still persevere in your efforts undaunted, And ample success shall reward you ere long. For Truth must prevail over falsehood and error. In spite of the Devil, Corruption, and Spies, Who down to their dens shall be driven in terror. While man to his scale in creation will rise. 81 SHAVING BANKS; OK, SIATTHEW'S CALL TO THE WORTHLESS, TO COME AND BE SHAVED O' THEIE SILLEH. Being the substance of a speech delivered by Matthew, (not tlie Evangelist,) at a Public Meeting held in the , on the day of , 1818, on the utiUty of " Shaving Banks." Ho ! ye poor worthless, thriftless trash ; Worthless, because ye haena cash — Thriftless, because ye try to dash Like your superiors ; Come hither, till I lay the lash To your posteriors. Sae lost are ye to a' reflection — To wisdom, prudence, circumspection — That naething but some smart correction I see will do ; And naething else than pure affection Mak's me fa' to. 82 And now, ye thochtless, wairdless sinners, O' tippling weavers, cotton-spinuers. Smiths, nailers, founders, braziers, tinners, "What right hae ye To sit down to your flesh-meat dinners — Your toast and tea ? What right hae ye to sit an' drink Till ance your e'en begin to blink, Keeping your families on the brink O' yawning ruin ? Stop, sirs ! — I charge ye, stop an' think What ye are doin'. What right hae ye to wear braw claes, And strut about on holidays Alang Clyde side, up Cathkin braes. Or through the Green, As thochtless as the brutes that graze Before your e'en ? 83 "What right hae ye at e'en to lie On gude saft beds, baith warm and dry ? You — wha nae better are than kye ! Trouth, scarce sae gude- And yet ye'll daur wi' us to vie Ye hoggish brood ! What right, ye wretches, can ye hae To siccan gudely things as thae ? Boiled beans, burnt yill, horse rugs an' strae. Wad be mair fittin' — VVi' gude sharp shears, to stop you frae Your brat-begettin'. Sic goodly things alone are ours ; Brose thrice a-day is a' that's yours ; And that's enough to keep your powers In working play. As ye've to toil but sixteen hours Ilk lawfu' day. 84 And as for Sundays — troth, I think, Instead o' wasting precious clink On base bewitching sinfu' drink, 'Twad set you better To get but twice, that day, a skink O' meal and water. For when your hands hae nocht to do. Your teeth should be as idle too ; Gude troth, it ill sets folk like you. When earning naething, To sit and cram your bellies fou, Or wear braw claithing. Ye maun retrench, and live mair canny. And, while it's summer, gather honey ; That is, lay weekly by what money Ye're used to waste. To kep a strait that may come on ye "When looked for least. 85 Ye may be forced to beg when auld. Ye may be reft o' house and hald, And be obliged, 'mid winter's cauld, To sleep out-by ; The dark-brown clouds your curtain's fauld, Your roof the sky. Ye may become the beagle's butt, Ye may be up in prison shut, Ye may be on the parish put ; (Faith, quietly speaking, I'd rather see your thrapples cut, Your base blood reeking.) But to prevent these numerous ills, Now is the time to help yoursel's ; Leave aff your drinking sinfu' gills, And living high, And learn, although against your wills, To lay cash by. 86 And here's the method ye maun tak'. If siller ye wad try to mak', As ye hae ne'er yet learned the knack O' taking care o't, Hand into us ilk orra plack That ye can spare o't. And we'll tak' care o't sure enough, For we're the lads can guide the stuff; We winna wair*!, like you, on snuff, Or tea or liquor. Then quick and lay't into our loof. We'll liaud it sicker. For we've established Shaving Banks, For shaving o' the lower ranks, For which we claim the gratefu' thanks, Withouten flattery, Of you, wha are but useless blanks In life's great lottery 87 (And L — d, we'll shave you if we can. By auld George Rose's shaving plan, Whilk shortly will succeed frae "Dan Unto Beersheba," In shaving ilka labouring man As clean's a sybo.) Then hear, ye cyphers o' the State, If ye'd get forward on your gate, Rise soon to work, and sit up late. And toil like niggers, Else, by my saul, ye'll never rate Amang the figures. An aye snib aff the ither groat Frae whisky stoup and porter pot. Ne'er letting liquor weet your throat, "While water's cheaper. And soon ye'll come to hae a note O' gude bank paper. 88 And when you've scrapit ane thegither. By bringing a your bawbees hither, Quick, work, and scrape, and get anitber ; Confound your blood ! "WTiat gars ye shake your heads and swither? 'Tis for your good. Your goods I mean, and chattels, too. If we durst tell our motive true ; But we'll keep that hid out o' view As lang's we can. Else ye might try, ye stubborn crew. To thwart our plan. Come, come, my lads, this is nae hoax. Here are our books — and here's our box. We'll put your siller in the stocks ; And when it's there. Confound you for a set o' blocks. Gin ye see't mair ; 89 What then ? — Ye tim'rous, backward set. The interest ye'U be sure to get, The stock will help to pay some debt John Bull is awn, Or creesh the sair-worn wheels o' State, To keep them gaun. For look ye, it is our intent To cleek you firm to Government ; Then, when your siller a' is lent To Van & Co.,' Ye'U stick, while ye can draw a cent. Come weal or woe. And doubtless ye'll soon see the day When ye'll be hugged by Cast-ill-ray, Sad-mouth himsel' will owre you pray, And grunt a blessing ; TJie Regent's muckle gouty tae Ye'll even get kissing. I 2 90 And that choice chip o' lucky Hunn,^ Wha in St. Stephen's plays buffoon, Will chat to please you — mak' a pun To shew his wit, And girn like ony auld baboon Cracking a nit. And a' the loyal in the land Will come and shake you by the hand, Wi' a' our treason-hatching band O' moral spies, Who serve us ay, upon demand, Wi' bags o' lies. That hopeful brood o' true hell game, Begot upon the bloated frame O' that auld venerable dame, Yclep'd Corruption, By holy Sid — frae you will claim The friendly grip soon. 91 And we shall leave nae scheme untried To get ye a' upon our side, For though your looks we scarce can bide When ye come near us. Yet we maun drap our distant pride When times grow serious. But we've anither plan forbye. Which we intend wi' you to try. And that is, if you e'er apply For parish aid. The fient a plack o' such supply Ye'U e'er be paid. And if ye daur to raise a fuss. Or meet the poor laws to discuss, Then a' your cash belongs to us. Which we will keep ; Be therefore ye as calm as puss. And never cheep. 92 Or if you do, then, by my faith. And that ye'll mir^d is nae mock aith. We'll hae the lads in blood-red claith Again brought in, Wi' a' their instruments o' death. To stop your din. Anither thing we hae in view. Though it maun ne'er be tald to you, We'll see how far taxation's screw Will thole a thraw yet, And hence impose some taxes new By dint o' law yet. For we're determined — do ye see, To keep you low as low can be. To gar you toil like brutes, that we Like gods may fare, And shave you o' the last bawbee That ye can spare. 93 Sic are our motives, sic our drift, For trying this bit loopy shift; And, thanks to gude, ye want the gift O' common sense, Else ye our hale design would sift. And keep your pence. NOTES. ' Vansittart, Chancellor of the Exchequer. " George Canning, the Parodist and Punster. 94 ODE, Written for the Anniversary of the Birth of ROBEET TaNNAHILL. "VVHiiiE certain parties in the State Meet yearly, to commemorate The birth of their great "heaven-born" head, Wha lang did Britain's councils lead ; And in the face of downright facts, Launch forth in praise of certain acts, As deeds of first-rate magnitude. Performed a' for the public good. By this rare pink o' politicians, This matchless Prince o' State Physicians ; "Whase greatest skill in bleeding lay, Bleeding the state into decay : For — studying the great Sangrado, — There's little doubt, but he got baud o' The secret o' that great man's art. At which he soon grew most expert ; 95 As his prescriptions, like his master's, Still ran on lancets mair than plasters : A proper mode, nae doubt, when nations, Like men, are fashed wi' inflammations ; But somewhat dangerous when the patient, From being rather scrimply rationed, Has little blood to spare — and when, (With all respect for learned men,) He has much less desire to look To the Physician, than the Cook. While thus they meet, and yearly dine, And o'er their flowing cups o' wine. By studied speech, or weel-timed toast, Declare it is their greatest boast, That they were friends o' that great Pilot Wha braved the storm by his rare skill o't, And brought the vessel fairly through. Though mutinous were half the crew. But then, these Pitt-adoring fellows " Remember to forget'' to tell us That, running foul o' some rude rock, He gied the vessel such a shock. As shattered a' her stately hull ; So that her owner, Mr Bull, 96 So terrible a loss sustaining, Has ever since been sair complaining : — In fact, tlus once brave, stout, plump fellow, With face, now of a sickly yellow, A constitution, sadly shattered, A frame wi' toil and sickness battered, Wearing away by constant wasting, Down to the grave seems fast a-hasting. But yet, he vows, if he be spared. He'll have her thoroughly repaired. Nor weary out his gallant crew By toiling mair than men can do ; For now it tak's them ceaseless pumping. To keep the crazy hulk from swamping : Na, troth, they tell us nought like that, They're no sae candid, weel I wat. But, getting a' quite pack thegither, They bandy compliments at ither Sae thick and fest, that mutual flatteries Are playing oflf like bomb-shell batteries ; Or rather to come lower down, For that's a simile too high flown, It's somewhat like a boyish yoking, At battledoor and shuttlecocking ; 9? For, soon as this ane gies his crack, The next ane's ready to pay back His fulsome compliments galore ; And thus is blarney's battledoor Applied to flattery's shuttlecock. Till ilk ane round gets stroke for stroke, Or, just as honest Scotch folk do, It's '« ye'U claw me and I'll claw you." A different task is ours indeed ; We meet to pay the grateful meed ; — The meed of just esteem sincere. To ane, whase memory we hold dear ; To ane, whase name demands respect, Although wi' nae court titles decked ; To ane, wha never learned the gate, Of fawning meanly on the great ; To ane wha never turned his coat, To mak' a sinfu' penny o't ; To ane, wha never speeled to favour, By turning mankind's chief enslaver ; To ane wha never did aspire To set and keep the warld on fire ; 9S To ane wha ne'er by mischief brewing Raised hitnsel' on his country's ruin ; But humbly glided on through life, Remote from party jars and strife, A quiet, inoffensive man, As ever life's short race-course ran ; A simple, honest child of nature still, In short, our ain dear minstrel — Tannahill. O Tannahill ! thou bard revered. Thy name shall ever be endeared To Scotia, thy loved land of song, "While her pure rivers glide along ; While her bleak rugged mountains high, Point their rude summits to the sky ; While yellow harvests on her plains Reward her children's toils and pains ; And while her sons and daughters leal The inborn glow of freedom feel. Her woods, her rocks, her hills and glens, Shall echo thy delightful strains. While " Jura's cliffs" are capt with snows ; While the " dark winding Carron flows ;" 99 While high " Ben Lomond" rears his head, To catch the sun's last radiance shed ; While sweet " Gleniffer's dewy dell" Blooms wi' " the craw-flower's early bell ;" While smiles " Glenkilloch's sunny brae,'' Made classic by thy tender lay ; While waves the " wood of Craigielee," Where " Mary's heart was won by thee," Thy name — thy artless minstrelsy, Sweet bard of nature, ne'er shall die ; But thou wilt be remembered still, Meek, unassuming Tannahill. What, though with Burns thou could'st not vie. In diving deep, or soaring high ; What though thy genius did not blaze Like his, to draw the public gaze ; Yet, thy sweet numbers, free from art. Like his, can touch — can melt the heart. The lav'rock may soar, till he's lost in the sky. Yet the modest wee Untie that sings frae the trcf. Although he aspire not to regions so high. His song is as sweet as the lav 'rock's to nie ; 100 And O thy wild warblings are sweet, Tannahill, "Whatever thy theme be, — love, grief or despair. The tones of thy lyre move our feelings at will, For nature, all powerful, predominates there. But, while the bard we eulogize. Shall we the man neglect to prize ? No ! perish every virtue first, And every vice usurp its place ; With every ill let man be curst. Ere we do aught so mean and base. Shall bloody warriors fill the rolls of fame, And niches in her lofty temple claim ? — Shall the unfeeling scourgers of mankind. To mercy deaf, to their own interest blind ; Shall the depopulators of the earth. Without one particle of real worth — Whose lives are one compounded mass of crime. Be handed down by fame to latest time, The admiration of each future age ? They ! whose vile names are blots on every page ? And shall the child of virtue ' be forgot. Because the inmate of a humble cot ? 101 Shall he whose heart was open, warm, sincere, AVho gave to want his mite — to woe his tear ; Whose friendship still, was steady, warm and sure. Whose love was tender, constant, ardent, pure ; Whose fine-toned feelings, generous and humane. Were hurt to give the meanest reptile pain ; Whose filial love for her who gave him birth, Has seldom found a parallel on earth ; Shall he, forgotten in oblivion lie ? Forbid it, every sacred Power on high ; Forbid it, every virtue here below. Shall such a precious gem lie buried ? No : Historians may neglect him, if they will. But age will tell to age, the worth of Tannahill. When mighty conquerors shall be forgot ; When, like themselves, their very names shall rot ; When even the story of their deeds is lost. Or only heard with horror and disgust ; When happy man, from tyranny set free. Shall wonder if such things could really be ; And bless his stars that he was not on earth When such destructive monsters " were brought forth. When the whole human family shall be one, In every clime below the circling sun, K 2 102 And every man shall live secure and free, Beneath his vine, beneath his own fig-tree ; No savage hordes his dwelling to invade, Nor plunderer daring to make him afraid ; When things are prized, not by their showy dress, But by the solid worth which they possess ; Even then, our loved, our much lamented bard, Those times shall venerate with deep regard ; His songs will charm, his virtues be revered, And to his name shall monuments be reared. NOTES. ' It is well authenticated that the rash act, which terminated the career of the unfortunate Tannahill, was committed in a fit of men- tal distraction, arising from a circumstance, which the peculiar sensibility of his mind could not brook. The many amiable quali- ties of his disposition, which we have here endeavoured to depict, have ever been confirmed by his intimates, as well as by all who were in the least degree acquainted with him, so as justly to entitle him to the epithet " cli^ild of vii'tue." ^ This may seem to many, perhaps, too harsh a term to apply to human beings ; but when we consider the atrocities and butcheries committed or sanctioned, by such characters as Nero, Caligula, and others, in what terms can we more properly designate such in- dividuals, than " destructive monsters ?" 103 SONGS FROM FRAGMENTS OF TANNAHILL. [The first Stanzas of the six following Songs are Fragments which were left by the much-lamented Robert Tannahill, and published in the " Harp of Renfrewshire." Thinking it a pity that even a " fragment" of so celebrated a Song-writer should be lost, for want of something like a proper finish, I, perhaps with too pre- sumptive a hand, have made the attempt of completing them to the best of my abilities. How far I have been successful, in en- tering into the spirit of the original, I must leave the candid reader to judge. The lines marked with inverted commas are by Mr Tannahill.] " COME HAME TO YOUR LINGELS." AiK — " Whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad." " Come hame to your lingels, ye ne'er-do-weel loon, " You're the king o' the dyvours, the talk o' the town, " Sae soon as the Munonday morning comes in " Your wearifu' daidling again maun begin. " Gudewife, ye're a skillet, your tongue's just a bell, " To the peace o' guid fallows it rings the death-knell ; " But clack, till ye deafen auld Barnaby's mill, " The souter shall ay hae his Munonday's yill." Come hame to your lap-stane, come hame to your last. It's a bonnie affair that your family maun fast. 104 "While you and your crew here a-guzzling maun sit, Ye daised drunken guid-for-nocht heir o' the pit ; Just leuk how I'm gaun without stocking or shoe, Your bairns a' in tatters, a.a' fatherless too. An' yet, quite content, like a sot ye'U sit still Till your kyte's like to crack wi' your Munonday's yiil. I tell ye, gudewife, gin ye haudna your clack, I'll lend you a reestle wi' this owre your back ; Maun we be abused an' affronted by you, Wi' siccan foul names as "loon," "dyvour," an' " crew?" Come hame to your lingels, this instant come hame, Or I'll redden your face, gin ye've yet ony shame ; For I'll bring a' the bairns, an' we'll just hae our fill, As weel as yoursel', o' your Munonday's yill. Gin that be the gate o't, sirs, come let us stir. What need we sit here to be pestered by her ? For she'll plague an' affront us as far as she can — Did ever a woman sae bother a man ? Frae yill-house to yill-house she'll after us rin, An' raise the hale town wi' her yelpin' an' din ; Come, ca' the gudewife, bid her bring in her bill, I see I maun quat takin' Munonday's yill. 105 " MEG O' THE GLEN." Air — " When she cam' ben she bobbit." " Meg o' the glen set aff to the fair, " Wi' ruffles an' ribbons, an' meikle prepare, " Her heart it was heavy, her head it was licht, " For a' the lang way for a wooer she sicht ; " She spak to the lads, but the lads slippet by ; " She spak to the lasses, the lasses were shy; " She thocht she micht do, but she didna weel ken, " For nane seem'd to care for poor Meg o' the glen. But wat ye what was't made the lads a' gae by ? An' wat ye what was't made the lasses sae shy ? Poor Meg o' the glen had nae tocher ava, And therefore could neither be bonnie nor braw. But an uncle, wha lang in the Indies had been, Forseeing death coming to close his auld een, Made his will, left her heiress o' thousand punds ten ; Now wha is mair thocht o' than Meg o' the glen ? 106 THE LASSIE O' MERRY EIGHTEEN." " My faither wad hae me to marry the miller ; " My mither wad hae me to marry the laird ; " But brawly I ken it's the love o' the siller " That brightens their fancy to ony regard ; " The miller is crookit, the miller is crabbit, " The laird, though he's wealthy, he's lyart and lean, " He's auld, an' he's cauld, an' he's blin', an' he's bald, " An' he's no for a lassie o' merry eighteen." But O there's a laddie wha tells me he loes me. An' him I loe dearly, aye, dearly as life, Tho' father an' mither should scold an' abuse me, Nae ither shall ever get me for a wife ; Although he can boast na o' land nor yet siller. He's worthy to match wi' a duchess or queen ; For his heart is sae warm, an' sae stately his form, An' then, like mysel', he's just merry eighteen. 107 "THE LASSES A' LEUGH." AiK— " Kissed yestreen." " The lasses a' leugh, and the carlin flate, " But Maggie was sitting fu' ourie and blate, " The auld silly gawkie, she couldna contain, " How brawly she was kissed yestreen ; " Kissed yestreen, kissed yestreen, " How brawly she was kissed yestreen ; " She blethered it round to her fae an' her freen, " How brawly she was kissed yestreen." She loosed the white napkin frae 'bout her dun neck. An' cried the big sorrow tak' lang Geordie Fleck, D'ye see what a scart I gat frae a preen. By his towsling an' kissing at me yestreen ; At me yestreen, at me yestreen, By his towsling and kissing at me yestreen ; I canna conceive what the fellow could mean. By kissing sae meikle at me yestreen. Then she pu'd up her sleeve an' shawed a blae mark, Quo' she, I gat that frae young Davy our dark, 108 But the creature had surely forgat himsel' clean, When he nipt me sae hard for a kiss yestreen ; For a kiss yestreen, for a kiss yestreen, When he nipt me sae hard for a kiss yestreen ; I wonder what keepit my nails frae his een, When he nipt me sae hard for a kiss yestreen. Then she held up her cheek, an' cried, foul fa' the laird, Just leuk what I gat wi' his black birsie beard. The vile filthy body 1 was e'er the like seen ? To rub me sae sair for a kiss yestreen ; For a kiss yestreen, for a kiss yestreen, To rub me sae sair for a kiss yestreen ; I'm sure that nae woman o' judgment need green To be rubbit, like me, for a kiss yestreen. Syne she tald what grand offers she aften had had, But wad she tak' a man ? — na, she wasna sae mad ; For the hale o' the sex she cared na a preen, An' she hated the way she was kissed yestreen ; Kissed yestreen, kissed yestreen, She hated the way she was kissed yestreen ; 'Twas a mercy that naithing mair serious had been, For it's dangerous whiles to be kissed at e'en. 109 BRAVE LEWIE ROY. An old GcbUc Air. " Braae Lewie Roy was the flower of our Highlandmen, " Tall as the oak on the lofty Benvoirlich, " Fleet as the light-bounding tenants of Fillin-glen, •' Dearer than life to his lovely nighean choidhearh.^ " Lone was his biding, the cave of his hiding, " When forced to retire with our gallant Prince Charlie, " Though manly and fearless, his bold heart was cheerless, " Away from the lady he ay loved so dearly." But woe on the blood-thirsty mandates of Cumberland ! Woe on the blood-thirsty gang that fulfilled them ! Poor Caledonia ! bleeding and plundered land. Where shall thy children now shelter and shield them ? Keen prowl the cravens, like merciless ravens, Their prey — the devoted adherents of Charlie ; Brave Lewie Roy is ta'en, cowardly hacked and slain — Ah ! his nighean choidheach will mourn for him sairly. ' Pronounced neen voluch — beautiful maid. no " O HOW CAN YOU GANG, LASSIE.'' AiK — " The bonniest lass in a' the warld.^' *' O HOW can you gang, lassie, how can you gang, '• O how can ye gang sae to grieve me ? " Wi' your beauty, and your art, ye hae broken my heart, " For I never, never dreamt ye could leave me." Ah ! wha wad hae thought that sae bonnie a face Could e'er wear a smile to deceive me ? Or that guile in that fair bosom could e'er find a place. And that ycu wad break your vows thus, and leave me ? O have you not mind, when our names you entwined. In a wreath round the purse you did weave me ? Or have you now forgot the once-=dear trysting spot Where so oft you pledged your faith ne'er to leave me i" But, changing as wind is your light fickle mind ; Your smiles, tokens, vows, all deceive me ; No more, then, I'll trust to such frail painted dust, Btit bewail mv fate till kind death relieve me. Ill Then gang, fickle fair, to your new-fangled jo. Yes, gang, and in wretchedness leave me ; But, alas ! should you be doomed to a wedlock of woe. Ah, how would your unhappiness grieve me ! For, Mary ! all faithless and false as thou art, Thy spell-binding glances, believe me. So closely are entwined round this fond foolish heart. That the grave alone of them can bereave me. 112 THE DAIRO'S ANTHEM. A moderate effusion of modern Japanese loyalty, as sung by all the loyal subjects of Japan on the day in which their beloved Regent, the great Prince of Whales and Leviathans, was crowned and consecrated Dairo of the three Islands of Japan, by the High Bonze of Canterburara. Translated from the Japanese, and adapted to an air once very popular in England. Pakt I. Fame, let thy trumpet sound. Tell all the worlds around, Great Dzheordzhe' is king ; Tell Rome, and France, and Spain, Tell Russia's vast domain, Tell German, Swede and Dane, Great Dzheordzhe is king. Sound it at Johnny Groat's, — Tell the grim Hottentots, Great Dzheordzhe is king ; Publish it far and near, Let Pole and Tartar hear. Howl through Siberia drear, Great Dzheordzhe is king. 113 Tell Turkey's turban'd sons, Moors, Dutchmen, Greeks and Huns, Great Dzheordzhe is king ; From Mount Blanc's cap of snow Shrilly thy trumpet blow, Warning the vales below, Great Dzheordzhe is king. Tell the red Chippewas, Tell the squat Esquimaux, Great Dzheordzhe is king ; Through icy Greenland blow, Let frozen Lapland know, Through her wide wastes of snow. Great Dzheordzhe is king. Sound where the Atlantic roars. Round Afric's sahle shores. Great Dzheordze is king ; Let the glad echoes then, Bound o'er the distant main, Till Cape Horn ring again, Great Dzheordze is king. 1.2 114 Tell the United States' King-hating reprobates, Great Dzheordzhe is king ; Through those rebellious lands, Once, beloved Ferdinand's, Blow, while thy trumpet stands, Great Dzheordzhe is king. Say to the dark Hindoo, Tell the brown Arab, too, Great Dzheordzhe is king ; Through all Japan proclaim His super-glorious name, Till China shout, O fame ! Great Dzheordzhe is king. Make all New Holland yell, Through wood, rock, swamp and dell, Great Dzheordzhe is king ; Sound it from Borneo, Round Patagonia, Tell California Great Dzheordzhe is king. 115 Raise, raise, thy notes more high, Peal through the crystal sky. Great Dzheordzhe is king ; From the bright blazing sun, Wide let the tidings run, Till Georgium Sidus own Great Dzheordzhe is king. Tell every twinkling star, Glimmering through space afar. Great Dzheordzhe is king ; Up through the milky way. Loud let thy trumpet bray, "Warning the isles of day Great Dzheordzhe is king. Down the Tartarian steep. Growl through each cavern deep. Great Dzheordzhe is king ; Howl out thy harshest lone. Till night on sable throne, Startled, with terror groan, Great Dzheordzhe is king. 116 Louder still be thy blast, Blow through creation vast, Great Dzheordzhe is king ; One more tremendous peal. Till Nature's limits reel. And farthest Chaos feel Great Dzheordzhe is king. Part II. Dzheordzhe reigns— let us submit To all that he thinks fit. Great Dzheordzhe is king ; To the yoke yield our necks, To the load bend our backs, Cheerfully pay each tax — Great Dzheordzhe is king. Who, upon earth or sea, Dare in the balance weigh Great Dzheordzhe, the king ? 117 Who makes the sacred throne Break when he sits thereon, He, weighing sixty stone, Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who can with Bacchus vie At draining hogsheads dry ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who, when he's fraught with wine, Nightly at Venus' shrine Kneeleth by " Right Divine ?" Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who by his potent word Can create duke or lord ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who rules the light of day. Making each solar ray Tribute to Cesar pay ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who by the pomp of war Can death's fell gates unbar ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. 118 Who can death's portals close, By making peace with foes, And ending warfare's woes ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who can do nothing wrong ? Who human life prolong ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who, by his Royal will, Can, with a grey goose quill. Graciously save — or kill ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who is the Church's Head, Mighty, and high, and dread ? Great Dzheordzhe, the king. Who makes the nations pay Tythes — that a tythe may pray . After one certain way ? Great Dzheordzhe the king. NOTE. ' 111 the Japanese tongue, the dzh, when combined, produce a sound nearly similar to the English g soft ; but it would be using too much freedom with Royalty to make any such alteration in the translation. 119 BAULDY BUCHANAX. O WHA hasna heard o' blythe Bauldy Buchanan ? A hale hearty carle o' some saxty years stan'in' ; Gae search the hale kintra, frae Lanark to Lunnon, Ye'll scarce find the match o' blythe Bauldy Buchanan. For Bauldy's sae cracky, an' Bauldy's sae canty — A frame o' threescore, wi' a spirit o' twenty — Wi' his auld farrant tales, an' his jokin', an' funnin', A rich an' rare treat is blythe Bauldy Buchanan. Blythe Bauldy Buchanan's a wonderfu' drinker O' knowledge— for he's a great reader an' thinker There's scarcely an author frae Bentham to Bunyan, But has been run dry by blythe Bauldy Buchanan. He kens a' the courses an' names o' the planets The secret manceuvres o' courts an' o' senates Can tell you what day Babel's tower was begun on ;- Sae deep read in heuks is blythe Bauldy Buchanan. 120 He can play on the bag-pipe, the flute, and the fiddle, Explain ony text, or expound ony riddle ; At deep calculation, at drawin', an' plannin', There's naebody equal to Bauldy Buchanan. He kens how the negroes are black, and thick-lippit — An' what mak's the Hottentot maids sae big hippit — How the women in Turkey sae muckle are run on ; — Sae versed in sic matters is Bauldy Buchanan. How the EngHsh like beer, an' the Scotch like their whisky — How Frenchmen are temperate, lively, and frisky — How the Turks are sae grave, an' the Greeks are sae cunnin'. Can a' be explained by blythe Bauldy Buchanan. An' niair than a' that, he can trace out the cause O' rain an' fair weather — o' frosts an' o' thaws — An' what keeps the earth in its orbit still runnin ;' — Sae wonderfu' learned is blythe Bauldy Buchanan. When round his fire-side neebours meet at the gloamin's, A n' hear him describe the auld Greeks an' the Romans — How they battled an' fought without musket or cannon — The folks glow'r wi' wonder at Bauldy Buchanan. 121 Or when he descends frae the grave to the witty. An' tells some queer story, or sings some droll ditty, Wi' his poetry, pleasantry, puzzlin', an' punnin'. Their sides are made sair wi' blythe Bauldy Buchanan. But o' a' the attractions that Bauldy possesses, His greatest attractions are twa bonnie lasses ; '3Iang a' the fine leddies frae Crail to Clackmannan, There's nane can match Bella an' Betty Buchanan. For O they're sae clever, sae frank, an' sae furthy, Sae bonnie, sae bloomin', sae wise, an' sae worthy, They keep the hale lads in the parish a-runnin' An' strivin' for Bella an' Bettv Buchanan. 122 HIGHLAN' SOBRIETY. AiK— " The Braes o' Glenorchy." Mv praw ponnie lads ! I will shust tell't you what, Whene'er you will down by ta stoup whiskee sat, In hearty coot freenships your whistles be wat, Shust teuk ta coot trams, but no fill yoursel's fou. For, oich ! she pe shamefu', pe sinfu' an' a', Pe mak' yoursel's trunk as pe baud py ta wa', Or down in ta tirty hole-gutter be fa', An wallow ta mire, like ta niuckle inuhk dhu.^ Me sure, gin you shust teuk ta troubles pe leuk, (Ta place I'm forgot) in ta coot Pible Peuk, She tell you, tat you ta wee trappies moucht teuk, For coot o' fa pody, but no pe got fou ; You moucht teukit ae glass, you moucht teukit twa. You moucht teukit sax for pe help him awa', But oich ! dinna teuk him, pe gar yoursel's fa,' For tat wad play t — mn an' hellnations wi' you. ' Black Sow. 123 Ta whiskees pe coot when ta pelly pe sore, Pe coot, when Shon Highlan'mau traws her claymore. For ten she'll perform ta crate wonders galiore, Sae lang's her coot heetock ' or skean ' stood true : Pe coot for ta peoples in a' kind o' station, When tey will pe use her in tue podderation, But when tey pe 'puse her wi' toxification, Far petters pe feucht wi' ta Deoul mhor dhu/ Ta whiskees preed shoy, and ta whiskees preed woe, Ta whiskees pe freen', an' ta whiskees pe foe, For as you pe treat him, he shust use you so, Hims coots and hims neevils must 'pend a' 'pon you : So now, my praw lads, 'tis coot 'vice I will gie. Whene'er Ut you'll met wi' ta Shon Parley-pree, Trunk aff your coot glasses— ay — ane, twa, nor tree. But oich ! teukit care, no pe piper pitch fou. Dirk. ' Knife. ' Great Black Devil. 124 A MOST LOYAL ODE, In celebration of Ten Thousand Pounds' worth (per annum) of Royal Filial Love.' Dedicated (without permission) to His Royal Highness Frederick Duke of York, Bishop of Osnaburg, &c., &c. AVkitten iu 1820. Awake, my Muse ! awake again, The theme demands a loftier strain Than e'er thou triedst before ; Come, plume thy wings, thy pipe make clear. And mount aloft, devoid of fear ; There sing, that all the world may hear, May wonder and adore ! 'Tis Royal Frederick claims thy song ; Then let thy notes be loud, and long. And sweet, and full, and clear ; But, O ! where wilt thou matter find To sing his Royal heart so kind — His filial feelings so refined — His ardour so sincere ? y 125 O, for a touch of Pindar's pen ! "With just one-half of Pindar's brain "Within this skull of mine ; How would I sing of Royal Dukes, Of Royal mitres, Royal crooks — Of Royal scullions, Royal cooks — Of Royal whiskers and perukes — Of Royal sprees divine ! How vain the wish ! — then be content To employ the one small talent lent By Heaven's exhaustless bank, In singing Royal Frederick's deeds — Frederick ! whose heart all hearts exceeds, As far as diamonds do glass beads. Or oak a soft fir plank. He condescends, (O, matchless love ! Or only matched by those who move In tight-laced dandy stays,) For poor ten thousand pounds per annum ! To take his father's keeping on him. To go and witness justice done him Just once — in thirty days ! M 2 126 Sure Royalty's no common thing, "When such a son, of such a king, Can stoop so very low, As fob the cash, throw sword aside, Take coach, and off to AVindsor ride, And there an hour or two preside. To see how matters go ! And there the Royal soup to taste — The Royal pudding, beef, and paste — The liquors hot and cool — To air each change of Royal clothes — Of Royal drugs to mix each doze — And wipe the Royal mouth and nose Like snivelin' child's at school. Such filial tenderness as this. The young stork of the wilderness Has never yet displayed ; For though upon his wings he bears His aged parent, worn with years. Yet what of that ?— it not appears That for his care he's paid. 127 But why compare a stupid stork To Royal Frederick, Duke of York ? The thing is most absurd ; The one's a warrior brave, confessed, As Dunkirk Course can well attest, "Where he at running proved the best — The other's but a bird 1 Great Frederick ! no offence, 1 hope — Thou art thy father's only prop In life's declining day ; For thou ! — thou only dost possess That pure disinterestedness Which prompts thee to relieve distress, Provided thou get — pay ! O, Johnny Bull ! thou'rt blest indeed. In having such a Royal breed To nourish and support ; No wonder thou art great and free — No wonder neighbours envy thee — "When they such bright examples see Of virtue, grace thy Court. 128 And yet thou'lt growl, thou bumpkin big ! And grunt like any half-starved pig ; Yea, like a galled jade, wince ; Great clodpole ! devil strike thee dumb. To growl about so small a sum, Which, not to take, would ill become " The honour of a Prince !" I grant thou'rt losing flesh and blood ; What then ? — the loss will do thee good, As pruning does a tree ; Ne'er grumble, therefore, to support The pomp and splendour of thy Court, But pay for every Royal sport. And Royal pleasure, for, in short. That task belongs to thee. The meagre wretch, who, for his sins, Is doomed to eat potatoe skins And munch on turnip peelings, May grunt, and growl, and cry he starves, But he gets just what he deserves; Then why should he hurt Royal nerves. Or shock fine Royal feelings ? 129 For Royal feelings have, of late, Become so very delicate, Have got so fine an edge. That nothing, sure, can wound them worse, Than that the Royal privy purse Should e'er be opened to disburse The expenses of a Royal nurse ; For see'st thou, Johnny ! that, of course, "Were downright sacrilege. Come, Southey ! what art thou about, Thou good-for-nothing, lazy lout ? What ? — art thou dumb or dead ? Here is a subject for thee now ; Come sing — or else, by Jove ! I vow I'll tear the laurels from thy brow, And wreathe them round my head. Why ! is it not a pretty thing. Thou must be paid, yet wilt not sing, Although the Court's own bard ? Whilst I, a poor, though loyal wight, Not only sing but also write. Yet ne'er receive one single mite ; — The case is very hard. 130 Well, thanks to Heaven, 'twill not be long Until thou have to give a song, Both long and loud enough, Not about hot and bloody battles. But Royal gossips' tittle-tattles, And Royal babies ! Royal prattles, With Royal gum-sticks, bells, and rattles. And such like Royal stuff.* But why not sing of Royal Fred . Tending with care his Royal Dad ? Which Johnny Bull must pay for ; What is the reason, I would ask, Thou'lt not perform this grateful task ? Thou who above all bards dost bask Beneath the Royal favour! No matter; — thou canst hold thy tongue, Yet shall not Fred, remain unsung, While I've a breath to spare ; And lo ! his Dwarf-ship ' shall proclaim, To gaping millions, Frederick's name. Who shall reverberate the same 131 From mouth to mouth, until his fame, His matchless deeds, and filial flame, Shall make a world to stare. Moral. Ho ! every base-born vulgar wretch. Who by a parent's bed may watch. While he is sick or dying ; Here's an example set for you, Be sure you're paid for what you do : Yes, paid, and that most amply, too ; If not ; — ^just leave him lying. NOTES. ' After the death of the late Queen Charlotte, (of blessed me- mory,) who had been appointed by Parliament nurse to her sick husband, with a salary of only £10,000 per annum, another nurse had to be ap[)ointed, and who so fit for the arduous task as the Right 132 Reverend Father in God, His Grace the Bishop of Osnaburg, His Royal Highness Duke of York, Commander in Chief, &c. ? His Right Reverend, Royal-High-Bishop-Duke-ship accepted the of- fice of wet and dry nurse to his Royal Father, for the same paltry sum which his Royal Mother had received ; but great must have been his piety and filial love, when, for so paltry a sum, he was obliged to attend his father's sick bed so often as once-a-month. Verily, we poor folks have no conception of the ways of Royalty. - Some of the Royal Princesses were getting Royal Husbands at this time, and surely it was noways unreasonable to expect such Royal results as those mentioned here. 'The Black Dwarf, a London periodical, printed and published by T. J. Wooler. 133 A LOYAL LAMENTATION. ' O DEAK ! what can the matter be ? Dear, dear ! what can the matter be ? Mercy upon us! O, what is the matter? we Can't get a son and an heir ! What will become of legitimate Royalty, Now that the Commons are tinged with disloyalty? Shame ! O, for shame ! not to grant the small moiety- Only ten thousand pounds bare. O dear, &c. "Whoever did hear of such monstrous ingratitude ? Men, who are basking in courtly beatitude, Not to grant means to beget us a pretty brood, Princely, and portly, and fair. O dear, &c. 134 Poor John * hoarsely mutters, " O blast such economy ! Suiely the rascals are now making fun o' me, Would they not willingly grind every bone o' me Were they themselves to get share ? O dear, &c, " One really would think that these blustering fellows Had lately been growing most savingly zealous ; But, faith ! I believe, when such stories they tell us, 'Tis merely a flourish of air." O dear, &c. Bereft of a king — Heavens ! what would become of us? Sorrowful times these would be for poor some of us ; tToodness ! we might be devoured every crumb of us, Wanting his shepherdly care. O dear, &c. The sun might refuse then in mercy to shine on us ; Clouds might not choose then in kindness to rain on us ; Vile foreign kings might come over to dine on us, Liking, as they do, such fare. O dear, &c. 135 Our rivers to run to the oeean might cease then ; Our flocks might deny us their millc and their fleece then; Our now fertile plains might produce no increase then, And ail become sterile and bare. O dear, &c. The song of our birds in the woods might be mute then ; No more might we hear either bagpipe or flute then ; A still sullen sadness might seize man and brute then, And all wear the gloom of despair. O dear, &c. Pale poverty's weeds might in wretchedness deck us then ; Cramps, rheumatisms, and cholics, might rack us then ; Every malignant disease might attack us then. Leading on death in the rear. O dear, &c. Our reason no longer might balance and guide us then ; Binning's ^ strong-holds might immure us and hide us then ; Old haggard beldams might nightly bestride us then, Spurring us swift through the air. O dear, &c. 136 To crown our disasters, our loads so delightsome. Which sit on our backs now so easy and lightsome, Might fall with a crash, so tremendously frightsome. That monarchs would tremble and stare. O dear, &c. Then, O that the loyal would raise a subscription. To purchase new stocks to engraft royal slips on ! Or the old sapless branches will be so frost-nipt soon. As not to be able to bear. O dear, &c. For a king must be got, if there is to be had one, It matters not whether a good or a bad one, A sober, a drunken, a wise, or a mad one. Provided he's Royalty's heir. And then we'll cease crying, O what can the matter be ? Dear saintly Sadmuzzle ! * what can the matter be ? Salt and gunpowder ! * och, what is the matter? we Can't get a son and an heir ! 137 NOTES. ' This " Loyal Lamentation" was occasioned by the following circumstance : — A certain Royal Duke, foreseeing the evils the country might be subjected to for want of an heir to the throne, very generously made an offer to Parliament to take a Royal Con- sort, and beget a Royal race, provided Parliament would give him an yearly grant of £20,000 of additional income, to enable him to maintain a wife, and beget kings. The Parliament, to their eter- nal disgrace, rejected the generous offer. His Royal Highness still wishing to render the country an essential service, notwith- standing the rebuff he met with, kindly offered to take the one- half of the sum, and be contented therewith; but mark the ingra- titude of the Commons ! — they rejected that offer also. So the poor Duke could not take a wife, and the country ran the risk of being brought to utter ruin for want of a king. "What a heavy responsibility the Commons incurred by their ungallant and unge- nerous conduct ! ' John Bull, of course. ' Lord Binning, at that time, was a great advocate for the erec- tion of madhouses in Scotland. * Lord Sidmouth. ' Castlereagh, the carotid artery cutter, who introduced the hu- mane practice of rubbing the backs of fiogged delinquents with salt and gunpowder ! n 2 138 MAGNIFICENT TOM. There are " rum chaps" ia London and " droll billies" here ; PoUockshaws is proverbial for "folks unco queer ;" But of all the " odd fellows" abroad or at home, There none of them equals Magnificent Tom ; For Tom, like a comet, eccentric and strange, 'Mongst the dull orbs of earth takes so devious a range, That there is not his match underneath heaven's dome. So erratic and rare is Magnificent Tom. Magnificent Tom, when the bee's in his head, Will sing, tell queer stories, or " tip off his bead ;" Preach, " tumble the wulcat," inquire where you're from. Shake hands and swear friendship — Magnificent Tom. Or changing the scene he'll the actor assume, Play the part of a hero — the part of a groom, From the " Bailie" he'll jump to old Cato of Rome, Keep you laughing or crying— Magnificent Tom. 139 Magnificent Tom has a temper so warm That, but touch him, his passion works over like barm ; And then, what a volley of sound, froth and foam, Is discharged from the mouth of Magnificent Tom. He cares not for friends then — ^he cares not for foes. Nor yet for himself when his wrath overflows ; But his words come as fiery as shells from a bomb, Dealing " doom" to all round him — Magnificent Tom. Magnificent Tom is so careless of pelf, That he lets every day just provide for itself ; " Why the world's but a cookshop, through which, while we roam, There's a cook feeds us all," quoth Magnificent Tom. " There's drink for us, too, in this shop to be had, Then let us, while here, take the good with the bad. For while bright glasses sparkle, or full tankards foam, We'll come in for our share," says Magnificent Tom. Magnificent Tom has his faults like us all. Yet he's never rejoiced at a neighbour's downfall : " Poor fellow, alas ! what a height he's come from ; Let us lift him again," cries Magnificent Tom. 140 Nor yet is he envious nor grieved, when he sees A neighbour's sails filled with prosperity's breeze : " Get forward, my boy, I am glad you've o'ercome The perils oflife," quoth Magnificent Tom. Magnificent Tom, though his cash be but scant. Will halve his last hoh with a chum that's in want, Nay, share with the vagrant his supper and home : " We should ne'er be unkind," says Magnificent Tom. ^Magnificent Tom, although reckless and rough. Has a heart where it should be, and made of right stuff ; Then let those who deride, (while their sleek hair they comb,) Take a lesson, sometimes, from Magnificent Tom. 141 A FULL-LENGTH PORTRAIT Of a Thing to be seen daily in the Trongate and Argjle Street, Glasgow. Written in 1831. Quoth Nature to Art, " My dear handmaid, come, view This Thing I've sketched out to be finished by you ; But how you're to do it, I really know not, For being too hurried, I've some things forgot. " What a pity that I should be ever in haste, As some wants may occur, or some parts be misplaced ! For in this very picture 'tis palpably plain. That even myself may make some things in vain ; And but for your help, I am sorry to say. This is one of these things I would fain throw away. It can't be a woman — it can't be a man. But take it, and make it whatever you can : — It has form, it has limbs, and a passable face. But the heart, you'll perceive, is put in the wrong place ; 142 And the brain, O the brain ! I have wholly omitted, While the tongue and the teeth are entirely misfitted ; For the tongue is a magpie's, the teeth are a monkey's, And the ears, bless my stars ! half resemble a donkey's ; Nay, start not, affrighted — but just take a view. And you'll see what I tell you is perfectly true. " Observe how the creature does chatter and grin. As it views in its glass its most beautiful skin ; Observe what grimaces — what gestures are there — "What a foolish parade — what a laughable air — And with what self-complacency this stupid elf Surveys, round and round, its self-deified self. I vow I'm ashamed of my handiwork here. Yet mend it I cannot, I very much fear ; Sure a more stupid picture was never designed ; But just take and colour it up to your mind ; And when your whole pains on the thing you bestow. If it can't be of use it may do for a show.'* Quoth Art, " I'll endeavour to give it a touch, But I fear at the best it will prove but a botch, 143 For what is defectively made at the first, In patching it up is sure to be curst. However, I'll study, while lending my aid. To gloss o'er the blunders you've hastily made ; But I beg that in future you'll take better care, As too many patchings now fall to my share." Then Art took the creature, and got it incased In a jerkin of whalebone to tighten its waist ; To make it look spruce, then her hand she employed In decking the outside of that which was void, While into the vacuum loosely she tumbled A head of mixed matter, together all jumbled — Set phrases, trite sentiments, common-place news. Some newly-coined oaths, fancy slang most profuse. Small scraps of stage ballads, a French word or two, "With a deal of " 'pon honours," and " ma'ams, how dy'e do.' All these mixed together, with nonsense great store, Now filled up the place that was empty before. To finish the rest of it, what does Art do? She dresses the thing in a smart cut surtout, 144 With vest and drill trousers of exquisite make, And makes it resemble half puppy, half rake ; Upon its slim legs, and its tender feet, puts A pair of silk stockings, and nonpareil boots — Gives it frills, a high collar, and stiffened cravat. And overtops all with a sugar-loaf hat — Puts into its delicate hand a small cane — Makes it sport a fine quizzing-glass hung from a chain- Instructs it to scrape, bow, and turn out its toes — Claps a pair of green spectacles on its sharp nose — Inserts in its muzzle a lighted cigar, To give it the air of a swaggering tar — Makes it study the gracefuUest way to take snuff — Gives its phiz a horn-sheathing to make it blush-proof- Bestows on it whiskers of African's hair, And sets it a strutting a la militaire : Thus she goes on re-touching, from bottom to top, Till the thing's wholly finished — an exquisite Fop. 146 PETER CORNCLIPS, A TALE. 'TwAs New'rday, aughteen twenty-four, I think about the breakfast hour, — At least, 'twas early in the day, — That Peter ConucLiPs took his way Frae auld St Mungo's town sae smeeky, To venerable gude Auld Reekie, To view the ferlies, and so forth, O' that famed Mistress o' the North ; "Which self-conceited Christian heathens Hae lately baptized Modern Athens. Her castle gray, her ancient palace. Her biggin's high, on hills— in valleys, Her spacious streets, her mound and bridges, Where citizens, as thick as midges, 14& A varied, motley, countless thrangj. Mix, move,, and bustle still alang. Her venerable auld St. Giles, The pride o' ancient Gothic piles. Surmounted by the imperial crown,. Which mony a stormy blast has seen. And yet has ne'er been tumbled down. As some imperial crowns hae been ,; For not a few hae kiss'd the ground Since honest auld St. Giles was crowned : But stop-^sic thoughts aye out o' season. Besides, they strongly smell o' treason, And that, ye ken, wiU never do. While royal Reekie's in our view. That seat a' ancient Scottish glory. Ere there was either Whip or Tori/ — But, leaving politics to those Wha gulp down kingdoms at a dose, AVe'U just, proceed, as heretofore, Auld Reekie's beauties to run o'er, — Her Arthur's Seat and Calton Hill, Where the charmed eye may rove at will, Alang the varied scenes around. As far as the horizon's bound. 147 Her Herriot's "Watk* and stately College, Famed seats o' solid useful knowledge, Whence many a genius has come forth. And shone the day-star o' the north. And her braw daughter, the New Town, Sae stately, straight and strapping grown, Wi' her fine crescents, streets and squares, And ither modern modish airs. That, search a' Europe through and through,, Her equal you will hardly view. Reader, perhaps, ye'll think it queer. That, at this season o' the year, A man should tak' a pleasure tramp, When roads are just a perfect swamp ; When days are short, nights lang and dreary. And Nature hangs her head fu' eerie, Blouraing the absence o' the sun. Which far to southern climes has run. Leaving her here to mak' her mane. To sigh, shed tears, and pine alane; • Herriot's Hospital. 148 Mourning her summer bloom decayed. Like some auld solitary maid, Lamenting o'er her fqn'owed brow, Torn up by time's relentless plough. And wailing o'er her roses fled, Her single state and lanely bed. — Reader, I say, yell think it queer. That ane should tak* a pleasure tramp At this dull season o' the year, Sae bleak, sae cheerless, cauld, and damp; But stop your strictures on my story. Till ance I've laid it a' before ye. Then ye may criticise your fill, I dinna care this half-worn quill. But these digressions I rin into, 1 fear, are rather near akin to Friend Tkistkam Shandy's turns and jinks. His outs and ins, his whirls and links, That mak' our memories tine the thread O' what we had begun to read ; Weel, to resume, as truth's imperative. Here goeth Peter Cornclips' naiTative : — 149 It wasna pleasure a'thegether. But partly business sent him thither ; For be it ken'd he there had frien's, Possessed o' very decent means ; Of course could boast some influence Wi' folks o' rank and consequence, Wha whiles hae places in Jheir grant, To gie for something else they want ; Maybe some lowly, cringing service, Voting, or ***** * * — Gude preserve us ! Now Peter took it in his head, That he might earn a bit o' bread, Much easier than he yet had done. If he could but prevail upon His frien's to mak' some intercession For him, wi' folks o' lofty station : Just to be plain, which aye is best. And set the matter quite at rest, Peter a snug bit birth did want. And hence the reason o' his jaunt. As forward on his way he set, He wi' an auld acquaintance met o2 -^.• 150 About Tolcross,* and, as 'twas New'rday, Forby a very cauld and dour day, t The two agreed that naething less Should part them than a hearty glass ; For aft had they thegither drank, Ere trade made difference in their rank ; But mony a day had o'er them pass'd. Since they had drank thegither last. For, in this land o' trade and stir, A thousand things ilk day occur. To mak' near neighbours change their stations. Their habits, hames and occupations, And move in new and separate spheres, So that they'll scarcely meet for years. Not that they quite forget ilk ither. But just, they chance not to forgether, As some new object, or pursuit, A different path to each chalks out. While some, devoid of means or aim. Plod on from year to year the same, And, like a tree fix'd to the spot, Just grow up, with?r, die, and rot ; A village three miles east of Glasgow, on the Edinburgh road. 151 And aft, while striving to raak' rich, Some wade, some jump hard fortune's ditch, And some, while jumping, tumble in. And out again can never win. But deep and deeper still they sink. The mair they strive to reach the brink, Till, fairly in the mud stuck fast. They struggle till they breathe their last. Thus, Commerce, frae her lottery box, Draws different lots to different folks— To some gives gall, feeds some wi' honei/ — The case wi' Peter and his cronie, For trade had his condition mended j While Peter, poor man, daily bended Beneath hard toil's impleasJlnt burden, Yet ne'er could save a single fardin'. A proof, that if you strip your coat, Ye'll never mak' a fortune o't ; But, get it ance kept on your back, 'Tis very like you'll something mak'. But, though the chiel' had risen thus, He didna mak' an unco fuss About his elevated state. Like thousands o' our mushroom (jieat. 152 "Wha, when they meet an auld acquaintance, Forget the face they brawly kent ance, And consequentially strut past, Wi' head ajee, and een up-cast : — No ; though this be the case wi' some, It ne'er was sae wi' Peter's chum — For, wheresoe'er auld frien's he met. He ne'er " remember'd to forget," But friendly-like, aye kept in min' Their social joys o' auld langsyne. "Weel, they into the Black Bull stappit, And for the best half-mutchkin rappit 'Twas brought ; and then, their gabs to please, The wife set down her bread and cheese. And, wi' a kind and takin' smile, Addressed them in her ain frank style, — " Come, sirs, fa' to, and no be blate ; Sic cheese ye'll no fin' ilka gate, It's saxteen month since it was caft, And that's its neebour in the laft, Baith gude Du'lap, — come, eat your fill : It's a bit dainty kebbock still. 133 AVhat think ye o' our aitmeal cakes ? Thae's ay the kind our Kirsty bakes, — As smart a kimmer as ye'll see, Although she were nae kin to me — .. But troth, I'll lose her soon I fear, Sae mony chiels come wooing here : Yet, wha she's for, or wha she'll get, She's keepin' that a secret yet ;--- It maks nae odds — I'll find it out Ere this day twalmonth comes about. Hout ! mak' nae ceremonies here, New'rday comes round but ance a-year." Weel pleased, the cronies heard her crack, (For she had ay an unco knack At pleasing customers,)— and then, 'Twas " Come, gudewife, fill this again." — Nae sooner said than it was done ; And then her gaucy curran'-bun Was neist produced, wi'— " Come, sirs, see, Here's something yet for you to pree : It's braw and rich— Hout, tak' a slice o't, Ne'er fash vour heads about the price o't. 154 1 gat it free* just as you see't ; And as I gat it sae I gie't. What are ye feared for ? — tak' a whansi : Ye'll maybe hae a bit to gang." Peter, whase heart wi' joy did loup, Cried, " Lucky ! fill again that stoup ; For siccan kindness, I declare, I never witnessed onywhere.'' Thus, did they crack, and eat, and drink, Till ance they baith began to wink ; The gudewife trottin' butt and ben, Filled up the stoup ay now and then. Drank baith their healths, and cracked her joke, While loud they laughed, and took their smoke. At last, as frae a dream awaking, Peter, his drumly twinklers raking, Gat up and cried, " I'm waur than wud ! I should been half-way on my road. Come, rise, for I maun tak' the gate ; And troth it will be braw and late * In the West of Scotland, a currant-bun is usually a New Year's gift from the baker to his principal customers. 153 Ere I get to my journey's end : — Was e'er sic stupid nonsense ken'd ! For Whitburn* I should reach ere night ; And I hae tint three hours o' light. Deil tak' that drink ! as I should ban ! It mak's an idiot o' a man." " "VVeel, just ae glass then," quo' his cronie ; " And here's my tap-coat, put it on ye, 'Twill keep you cozie, dry, and warm, Amidst this cauld and biting storm." Peter got on the meikle coat. Shook hands, and took the road like shot, But, had ye seen the body in't, Ye'd fairly thought he wad been tint ; The size o't very nearly drowned him, It wad hae buttoned three times round him ; For, made to fit its owner's carcase, Which, being a better meat than work case. Had grown till nearly hogshead thick : Peter's, a perfect walking stick ; A chanter, wanting bag and drones; A moving " vision of dry bones.'' • Jlalf-way between Glasgow anti Edinburgh. 156 Nae wonder, then, ye'd thought him tint, For ye could scarce hae seen him in't, Dell cares — he trudged through thick and thin, Nor e'er took time to look behin', But kept a quick, half-runnitig pace ; Whiles moralizing on his case, Whiles grumbling at the heavy road, And hapless feet, but poorly shod ; Whiles cursing that infernal whisky, Fell cause o' mony a luckless plisky ; Whiles thinking, if he wad succeed, He'd be a happy man indeed ; But doubting whiles, his mean Condition Might baulk him in his present mission : For great folks maistly Shower their gifts On them wha are nae favours needing, And leave the poor man to his shifts, As something scarcely worth the heeding. Peter kent this, but yet he thought A place was ay worth being sought ; Thus trudged he on, 'tWeen doubt and hope, And scarcely ever made a stop. Except, when to an inn he cam'. He had to halt to tak' a dram, 157. To keep his sinking spirits up, And help him forward on his trip. But waesucks ! night cam' on at last. And fiercely raged the furious blast ; And, what made waur his piteous case, The storm blew keenly in his face ; By turns, the rain, the sleet, the hail, Did Peter's feeble frame assail ; Clouds gathered round him, black as ink, He couldna see a single blink Of moon, or star, or candle light ; — Oh, but it was an awfu' night, For ony houseless, wandering wight ! He floundered on, he kent nae whar. Knee deep amang the mud and glaur; "Whiles owre some big whin-stane he stumbled. Whiles into some deep ditch he tumbled. Whiles like a goat owre hillocks leaping. Whiles like a crab on all-fours creeping. Whiles driven forward by the blast, And whiles knocked back again as fast. 158 The covering o' his " judgment-seat" Got so be-drenched wi' rain and sleet,. That the slouched rim o't, tempest-battered. Against his chafts incessant blattered. The big tap-coat a cmnbrance grew, For it got soaked with water through ; While Peter 'neath it graned and growled. Cursing the storm that heedless howled ; The half-worn shoon upon his feet Grew saft as dishclouts wi' the weet. And scarcely wad they bide thegither, Sae wide the steeks — sae frail the leather. Bewildered, and half-dead wi' fear, Nae kindly house for shelter near, Nae gleam to light him on his way, Peter at length began to pray. But, oh, the prayer he then did mutter Was such as raving madmen utter, A mixture of ejaculations, Blessings and horrid imprecations ! What else could he have uttered then ? — The drink still bizzing in his brain, 15^ 'Diat a' the ills he had come through Had not been able to subdue. Now, with a desperate courage flushed, Wi' a' his might he forward rushed. Through dub and naive sublimely dashing, Resembling just a steam-boat plashing ; Nor stopped he in his frantic rage, Till, souse, he pitched into a hedge ; And there he struggled like a fish Caught in the net's entangling mesh. How he got free 'twere hard to tell,—' But on the ither side he fell ; His hand let go his trusty staff, And, waur than a', his hat flew aff. Leaving his poor bewildered pate In a most lamentable state. Exposed to a' the furious blast That mercilessly on him lashed. Lang, lang he sought, but sought in vain, Nor staff nor hat could he regain, Which truly was a sad affair — For, wha e'er liked, wi' noddle bare, 160 To bide the battering o' a shower. Such as did then on Peter pour ? Except, indeed, the great Sam Johnson, Wha let a shower fa' his bare sconce on. For ae lang hour, by way of penance For some bad action he had done ance His ci-ime, if I can recollect, Was some gross piece of disrespect. Or stubborn disobedience rather, Which he, when young, had shown his father A very serious crime, nae doubt, Which youngsters tak' sma' thought about. But, when they ance come up to years. How vastly different it appears. 'Twas thus Sam Johnson viewed his crime. After a distant lapse o' time ; And hence his standing for an hour Bare-po wed beneath a heavy shower: — A stupid piece o' superstition. Or waur, a mockery o' contrition, As if a heavy shower o' rain. Washing the thatch- wark o' the brain, Could cleanse or cure the gangrened part, That festered foully at the heart. 161 But Peter felt nae sic compunction, While smarting 'neath this heavenly unction. Which fell in such a bitter torrent, As made it to his skull abhorrent ; But viewed his case in similar light As those who suffer for the right : Whether it was, his heart was hardened. Or that he deemed his sins were pardoned, I know not ; but, without remorse. At Fate he threw out mony a curse. For playing him so vile a plisky, — When really 'twas not Fate, but whisky, That had involved him in the scrape. From which he kentna how to 'scape :— Ergo, himsel' had a' the faut. By laying in owre meikle maut. Now, Peter's conduct in* this case Was just what every day tak's place ; At least, we very often see That ither folks, as well as he. When, through imprudence, or neglect Of being somewhat circumspect, p2 162 Some dire mischance upon them fa's, Ascribe it to some other cause, Trying, such is their sense of shame, To shift from off themselves the blame. Poor Peter, wi' his droukit pow, AVas so completely wildered now. That in this dismal swampy place He kentna whar to turn his face. But groped about, now here, now there. In darkness, terror, and despair, Like some dumfoundered, wandering ghaist. Lost 'mid the howling Stygian waste ; Or, if this simile winna do, As some may doubt o't being true. Like some great sumph, whase father's gains Are clearer than his ain dull brains ; Wha to the college straight is sent. And for some learned profession meant, Gropes, wades, and flounders through the classics, Dreaming the while o' gowns and cassocks, O' tithes or stipends, briefs or fees, D. D.'s, and ither learned degrees; 1G3 Tries Law — finds Law will never do ; Tries Physic next — sticks Physic too ; Then, pertinaciously grown stupit, Attempts to mount into a pu'pit. But finding the ascent too steep, The stance too high for him to keep ; — His balance lost, he staggers — reels. And backward, fairly coups the creels. Greets wi' a soss his mother earth, From which he ne'er should hae come forth. But where is Peter all this while 'i Cry some, with a sarcastic smile. Troth, it were hard for me to tell, When Peter didna ken himsel' ; However, if you wait, I'll try To find bim for you bye and bye : I think I left him in a bog. Quartered, of course, on Monsieur Frog, But nae mair relishing his quarters, Than horses do the whips o' carters ; He therefore made a hard exertion, To save himsel' frae fresh immersion, 164 And get his carcase extricated Frae lodgings he so truly hated. At last he to a planting got, And then began to bless his lot, For there he might some shelter find Frae the fell storm o' rain and wind ; But then the radn might overflow The place, it lay so very low, And should he stretch him on the ground. He ran the risk of being drowned ; "What shift remained ? for heavy sleep O'er his tired frame began to creep. And fain wad he his een hae closed ; But busy Fear here interposed. And whispered, if he shut an e'e. He very soon a corpse might be. — Necessity! resistless power ! How oft in the most trying hour, When feeble man, by thee opprest, Almost gives up the hard contest. That crushes him down to the earth, Dost Thou give bright Invention birth ; Though stern thou art, how much do we Poor helpless mortals owe to thee. 165 For mony grand discoveries made In every science, art and trade. Poor Peter, to his last shift driven, Beset alike by earth and heaven, An angry sky aboon him frowning, On earth below the risk o' drowning. If he but stretched him down to sleep, — Langer awake he could not keep, For, jaded nature worn out quite. Demanded quickly some respite : — What's to be done ?— a happy thought ! O gude be praised ! the meihle coat, The meikle coat !— weel, what of it? Ye' 11 shortly hear, but rest a bit. Plunging in water to the knees, Peter searched through amang the trees For ane, aneath which he might stand Securely, upon solid land. At length a stately pine he found, And then the big-coat buttoned round Both tree and him — and thus made fast, Poor Peter got a nap at last. 166 But busy Fancy now began To picture things ne'er seen by man ; In ither words — he dreamt a dream : — He thought that, coming to a stream. Swelled by the rains, by whirlwinds tossed. And that it must by him be crossed. The only brig a single plank, That lay across frae bank to bank ; Wiith trembling steps he ventured o'er, But ere he reached the farther shore. With horrid crash down broke the plank. And to the bottom Peter sank. The furious waves enclosed him round, He struggled long and hai-d for breath ; But no relief poor Peter found ; At last he closed his eyes in death. But, ah ! what scenes now met his view ! Scenes altogether strange and new ; For Fancy, as she wildly sported. Had him to the next world transported : By some resistless Power unseen. He rapidly through space was whirl'd ; Anil, looking back where he had been. Descried far off this nether world. 167 At first like a small taper blinking, And less and less each moment shrinking ; Till, by degrees, receding fast. The glimmering thing went out at last. Now, upwards as he cast his eyes. He saw new suns, new stars, new skies. Whose boundless glories filled him quite With inexpressible delight. Fain, fain would he have lingered there, Among those planets bright and fair, Those golden isles of heaven that lay. Scattered along the milky way. For as he drew those islands nigh, That gem the ocean of the sky, And there in living brilliance glow, A heavenly archipelago, Whose dazzling lustre far outshines The brightest gems of earthly mines ; He deemed they were the blest abodes Of beings of celestial birth. Or those who had thrown off the loads Of mortal clay they bore on earth ; And as he near and nearer drew, Still more expanded waxed the view, 168 ^, So that his eye, where'er it strayed, Ten thousand worlds at once surveyed ; For now upon his vision showered The glories of ten thousand spheres. Such as would wholly have o'erpowered Frail man in this dark world of tears, Whose weak and mortal eyes must shun The blaze of one far distant sun. And now he saw the happy race Blest tenants of that glorious place, With beauteous forms divinely fair. Arrayed in robes of purest white, JMoving majestic through the air, TJp-borne on golden sun-beams bright ; Or, walking in unclouded day, Along the emerald paved way ; Or bathing their celestial limbs In lieaven's pure translucent streams ; Or hymning forth their grateful songs. Fit only for celestial tongues ; While every face, and every eye, Beamed with the purest ecstacy. For now, all earthly greatness gone. They, pure ethereal beings, shone, 169 In all the vigour, bloom and joy, Of youthful immortality. No wrinkled forehead, stamped with care, No saddened countenance was there. No squalid cheek, no tearful eye. No breast that heaved the woe-fraught sigli. No guilt, no pain, no wretchedness. No, virtue struggling with distress. No frame bowed down with toil or age, No secret hate, no party rage, No servile slave, no haughty lord. No red depopulating sword ; Nothing to hurt, or to destroy. Was known in all those realms of joy ; But beauty, youth and innocence, Smiled sweetly on each countenance ; And love benign, and freedom bland. Made every gladdened heart expand ; And peace serene, and purest pleasure, And rapture without end or measure. Enlivened all those haunts of bliss. Those worlds of endless happiness. 170 Though longing greatly to alight. And dwell among those isles so bright, Tet still a conscious worthlessness Rose ap 'tween Peter and such bliss, Proclaiming he was no fit guest For those pure " Islands of the blest." So, by the Power unseen, urged on. He left those islands one by one. Far on his right, with deep regret, And soon each orb to him was set. Now, as he cast his eyes below, He thought he saw the shades of woe Far on his left, where a dark cloud Of sulphur did the place enshroud ; Pushed onward with resistless force, He stopped not in his downward course, But whirled along, o'erwhelmed with dread, Till light and giddy grew his head : Losing his recollection quite. He knew not further what befel, Till waked with horror and affright. Upon the black confines of hell : 171 He found himself bound to a stake, Upon the borders of a lake, From whose foul surface, noxious steams, And, here and there, sulphureous gleams Arose, and mounting to the air. With poison filled the atmosphere. No sun shone there, diffusing light, But all was dark and drear as night, Save where a flame, of livid hue, A pale and sickly glimmer threw Around this dreadful place, which light Was worse by far than tenfold night. No shrub nor blade of grass grew near, The weary wakeful eye to cheer, No music of the grove was there. But piercing yells of deep despair, And sickening groans, and rending sighs. And wailings loud, and deafening cries, And murmurs deep were heard around From many a heaving smould'ring mound, Where heaps of tortured wretches lay, Banished the blissful realms of day, And bound in everlasting chains, A prey to hell's acutest pains. 172 Beyond the lake was dimly seen. Through the blue flames tliat rolled between, A Being of tremendous size, Seated upon a fiery throne. Whose prideful brow, and wrathful eyes, Bespoke the mighty fallen One; Whose boundless pride made him rebel. And who, by madly mounting, — fell. Though dark despair sat on his face. Yet still his looks bore many a trace Of heavenly birth ; for even there Lingered the lost archangel's air ; The glory of whose former state Even hell could not obliterate. For, notwithstanding his offence. His loss of perfect innocence, Of heaven, of happiness, and all, He still looked noble in his fall. Around his throne a numerous crowd Of dark inferior beings bowed, Involved alike in his sad fate. Upon whose faces deadly hate And stern defiance were portrayed : For heaven had no impression made 173 Upon their stubborn hearts, which still Rejoiced to thwart th' Almighty will ; And, all malignant, they obeyed Their terrible chieftain's word or nod. Fulfilling each plan of mischief laid, Against the broken Image of God, The poor degraded human race. To drag them to that dismal place. Incessantly to undergo Their long, long quarantine of woe ! As Peter viewed khese awful scenes, A chilling fear ran through his veins. His knees together smote with dread. The hair stood bristling on his head. His teeth were chattering, lips were quivering. His frame all o'er -was seized with shivering, A cold, cold sweat bedewed his skin, "While hot the fever raged within. His burning tongue and parched mouth. Already felt the quenchless drouth, Which plagues the miserable race For ever in that dismal place. Q 2 174 While trembling he stood looking on, The awful chief upon the throne, With voice as loud as tenfold thunder, That seemed to rend all hell asunder, Cried, guards ! go fetch yon culprit here, Yon shriveled ghost, who shakes with fear, Go quick, and loose him from the stake. Then plunge him in the sulphury lake. And there baptize him in our name. O'er head and ears in liqiud flame ; For by such rites, 'tis our intent To mimic the Omnipotent : That done, present him here before us, He'll help to swell the infernal chorus. The guards no sooner orders got, Than quick they flew toward the spot Where Peter stood, and loosing him, In frantic horror with a scream He woke — when, lo ! — 'twas all a dream. A band of tinklers passing by, And hearing Peter's doleful cry, 175 Humanely thought it was their duty To help a creature in distress, For though their looks were grim and sooty, Their hearts felt not a whit the less. So, by the assistance of a light, They soon found out the hapless wight ; But oh ! how great was their surprise. They scarcely could believe their eyes, To see him buttoned to a tree, And vainly struggling to get free. They questioned him how he got there, His only answer was a stare Of hopeless grief, for though awake. His thoughts still ran upon the stake. The burning lake, and heaving mounds. The dreadful sights and dismal sounds, Which he had lately seen and heard ; For, when the swarthy band appeared. Their sable looks could ill dispel His fears of being still in hell. By soothing words and treatment kind, They calmed at length his troubled mind ; 176 Heard him his piteous tale relate. How he had wandered aff his gate ; How he had lost baith staff and hat, How he had neither lain, nor sat, But stood lashed to a tree that night ; And lastly, what an awfu' fright He got, by dreaming o' a dream, Which almost true, even yet did seem. The tinklers, pitying Peter's case, Had him conducted to a place Where he his weary frame might rest, Wi' cauld and hunger sair distrest ; An auld untenanted abode. That lay twa gim-shot aff the road, Weel sheltered by a clump o' trees, That sughed and whistled in the breeze : This auld deserted lanely biggin', Sair riddled baith in wa's and riggin'. The tinklers had, wi' nae sma' pains, Made proof against the winds and rains. And there, amid their vagrant trudgings, Ta'en up their temporary lodgings. 177 Thence aft in bands they issued out, And roamed the country round about, Mending auld kettles, pats and pans, Cheese toasters, heaters, jugs and cans, IMaking horn spoons, repairing bellows. Clasping or splicing auld umbrellas ; Cementing china, glueing fiddles. Or vamping up auld sieves and riddles ; And sometimes 'mid their various jobbing. If need required, a hen-roost robbing ; Or nabbing, sly, a pig or sheep, To help a holiday to keep. But, to gi'e fair play to the devil, If country folks to them were civil. And paid them freely for their wark. Or sheltered them when nights were dark. They paid a sort o' just regard To a' about their barn-yard, And wadna harm a single haet. Although their needs were e'er sae great. But stingy churls, that dared to differ Wi' them, were always sure to suffer In worldly substance, for their pains, By loss o' pigs, sheep, ducka or hens ; — 178 For tinklers didna care a button Whether 'twas poultry, pork or mutton, With which they did themselves supply Frae niggartTs hen-house, bught, or sty ; And never stuck to let their ass Feed on his hay, bis oats or grass ; Nor, in cauld weather, were they slack To help him down wi' his peat stack. Back to their haunt again returning, A' rules o' sober prudence spurning. They spent hale days and nights carousing, In feasting, fiddling, singing, boosing, Till, prest by want, they trudged again, To scour the country, hill and plain. 'Twas when a party coming back, Frae an excursion round the country, Wi' routh in ilk ane's haversack, To stow, for ance, their sair-run pantry— And drawing near their auld houff-door, Rejoicing o'er their ample store. And, in anticipation, tasting The joys, ance mair, o' fun and feasting : 179 'Twas at this very nick of time, When sadness would have been a crime, That Peter, wi' the dreadfu' scream. Awoke from out his fearfu' dream. A shriek so wild, so loud, so near, Chilled the hail hardy gang wi' fear, Who made a simultaneous pause. Listening wi' open ears and jaws. But soon recovering frae their fright, They quickly ran, procured a light. And to the wood their footsteps bent, Some dreadfu' mischief to prevent : — Where luckily they Peter found. Whom with amazement they unbound. And to their dwelling straight conveyed him, Stripped him, and in a warm bed laid him. And tried what means was in their power, The exhausted creature to restore ; Rejoicing that, as things then stood. They could afford rest, warmth and food, To their benumbed, benighted guest, Who needed food, and warmth, and rest. 180 Peter, recovering by degrees, Looks round, and with amazement sees A motley group, wi' queer like faces. Not overstocked wi' smiles and graces. Such as on ladies' faces play, And o'er their lovely features stray Like streamers bright in northern skies, Darting from cheeks, to lips — to eyes, "Where oft from 'neath each silken lid Young Love peeps out, half-seen, half-hid. Or sporting o'er the neck's soft white. Or round the sweetly dimpled chin. Or 'mong luxuriant ringlets bright, Fluttering about — now out — now in ; Like butterflies, 'mong beds of flowers. Or blooming honey-suckle bowers. Revelling on every luscious sweet, And sporting in the noon-day's heat : No, no ! — the faces Peter saw Had nae sic loveliness at a' ; But waggish winks and merry grins, Scarred cheeks, wide mouths, hard bristly chins, And shaggy brows, a' soiled and sweaty, Supplied the place o' f%ir and pretty. 181 Ifet, maugre these forbidding features, They seemed a set o' happy creatures, Exempt, for ance, frae care and sorrow. And quite regardless of to-morrow ; — Determined to enjoy their hour Of pleasure, while 'twas in their power, And therefore to begin aright The pleasure business o' the night, A hearty supper, piping het. Upon the board was quickly set ; Nor was there wanting nappy brown, Nor blue,* to synde the supper down. "When placed around the rustic table. Good-humoured, warm and hospitable, Remembering still the hapless stranger Whom they had lately saved from danger. They vowed they wadna taste a bit Till he, too, wad participate. So frae the bed they got him raised, And in the snuggest corner placed. While the auld Patriarch o' the gang, A rauchle carle, stark, stiff and Strang, * Alias, "Whisky. 182 Placed in the corner opposite, Wi' greasy locks o' black and white, A swarthy visage, gaunt and lean, A hooked proboscis, sharp gray e'en, A lengthy chin protruding out. As if in mockery o' the snout, A grizzly beard, lang, hard, and rough. An upper lip begrimed wi' snuff, A hoarse rough voice, and grave grimace. Mumbled owre something like a grace. Peter, whase brain was yet affected. His wits, at least, scarce quite collected. With eager looks the group surveying, While the auld carle the grace was saying. Wondered if what he saw was real. Or if it only was ideal; And, as his nose inhaled the steam Of ilka reeking savoury dish. Thinks he, if this be a' a dream. To wake again I ne'er would wish ; And then he mutters to himsel', " Faith ! this is no that ill a hell. And as for thae black deils around, I've met wi' waur aboon the ground." 183 But helpit by a gude horn spoon, Wi' knife and fork, he gathered soon His wandering scattered wits again. That for a while had slipt the reiri> And into wild disorder run Like the hot coursers o' the sun, That day when Phaeton, stuffed wi' pride, Presumed to undertake to guide The car of light — which, when he got, He made a pretty business o't. And thus, with man, 'tis still the case, When passion sits in reason's place, That a' things to confusion rin As weel without him as within. So that his every thought and act Is guided mair by whim than fact. But sage experience tells us a' That something solid in the maw Helps to dispel the fumes and vapours. That mak' the passions cut their capers At sic a wild unruly rate As ding the senses aff their gate. And set them jostling 'gainst ilk ither. Till ance they're a' confused thegither. 184 Such was the case wi' Peter here, Whase intellect was pretty clear In general, except when he Took rather meikle barley bree ; A practice which, I'm wae to say, Prevails owre meikle in our day, Amang the high as well as low, Which aften ends in want and woe ; — But then it helps the revetme — A good excuse for getting fou, Especially for loyal folks. Or those whase siller's i' the stocks. But I had maist forgotten Peter : Weel— as he was a right guid eater, Takin' a hearty belly-full, And eke o' swats a noble pull, He was sae far again brought round As ken he was aboon the ground ; And not in that sad place below, To where, 'tis said, the wicked go, But placed amang a set o' folks That relished weel his funny jokes : 185 For Peter had a chosen store Of tales, sly jokes, and such like lore ; And then the way he set them aff He'd mak' the very gravest laugh ; Forbye ye couldna tak' him wrang At smutty jest, or merry sang. These qualities which he possessed. Soon made him a most welcome guest Amang this merry careless core, "Wha gloried in a hearty splore, An' wadna gi'en a night o' fun For a' the grandeur 'nealh the sun. The supper being now discussed. The twa-pint bottle was produced, Which, circulating for a wee, Drew forth loud bursts o' mirlh and glee. And made the jest, the laugh, the sang. Be keepit up the hale night lang. Peter was ca'd on for a verse, At first, his voice was somewhat hearse, (And little wonder, when it's kent How he that night had partly spent,) But helpit to a wee drap blue. As he got on it clearer grew ; B 2 186 And then he gied them sic a lilt, And made sic funny gestures till't, That when he ended — an encore Was ca'd for by a general roar. "Which sang we here set down in print, Though, trowth, ye'll find but little in't. PETER'S SANG. AiK,— " The Cornclips." My mither men't my aflld breeks, An' wow ! but they were duddy, And sent me to get Mally shod At Robin Tamson's smiddy ; The smiddy stands beside the burn That wimples through the clachan, I never yet gae by the door. But aye I fa' a-laughin'. 187 For Robin was a walthy carle. An' had ae bonnie dochter, Tet ne'er wad let her tak' a man, The' mony lads had sought her ; And what think ye o' my exploit ?- The time omr mare was shoeing, I slippit up beside the lass, An' briskly fell a-wooing. An' aye she e'ed my auld breaks, The time that we sat craekin'. Quo' I, my lass, ne'er mind the clouts, I've new anes for the makin' ; But gin ye'll just come hame wi' me. An' lea' the carle, your father, Te'se get my breeks to keep in trim, Mysel', an' a' thegither. 'Deed, lad, quo' she, your offer's fair, I really think I'll tak' it, Sae, gang awa', get out the mare, We'll baith slip on the back o't ; 188 For gin I wait my father's time, I'll wait till I be fifty ; But na ; — I'll marry in my prime, An' mak' a wife most thrifty. "Wow ! Robin was an angry man. At tyning o' his dochter : Thro' a' the kintra-side he ran. An' far an' near he sought her ; But when he cam' to our fire-end. An' fand us baith thegither, Quo' I, gudeman, I've tae'n your bairn, An' ye may tak' my mither. Auld Robin girn'd an' sheuk his pow, Guid sooth ! quo' he, you're merry, But I'll just tak' ye at your word. An' end this hurry-burry ; So Robin an' our auld wife Agreed to creep thegither ; Now, I hae Robin Tamson's pet, An' Kobin has my mither. 189 Sae soon as Peter's sang was sung, Frae every neive, and throat, and tongue, There cam' sic vollies of applause. As almost shook the very wa's ; And even made the soot to come, In sable showers, down the lum. The glass again was sent about. And ilk aue had to drink it out, For, to his health, it was a bumper. That he might richer grow — and plumper, And aye be able to rehearse A merry tale, or sing a verse. A sturdy member o' his gang, "Was neist requested for a sang, Wha, after hemming twice or thrice, In order to mak' clear his voice. He pitched upon the proper key. And then began wi' life and glee Quite in the true bravura style. But wi' a pipe so strong and rough. That, though you had been off a mile, You might hae heard him weel enough. 190 THE TINKLER'S SONG. Am,—" Allan-'a-Dale." O who are so hearty, so happy and free, Or who for the proud care so little as we ? No tyrants control us, no slaves we command. Like free passage birds we traverse sea and land ; And still to the comfort of all we attend. By singing out, " caldrons or kettles to mend." Each climate— each soil, is to us still the same, No fixed local spot for our country we claim ; Yon lordly domain, with its castles and towers. We care not a pin for — the world, it is ours ; Superiors we know not — on none we depend, While our business is, caldrons or kettles to mend. The law says we're vagrants— the law tells a lie, The green earth's our dwelling, our roof the blue sky. 191 Then tho', through the earth, for employment we roam, How can we be vagrants, who ne'er are from home ? Our neighbours are mankind, whom oft we befriend. While trudging about, pots or kettles to mend. No rent, tythes, nor taxes, we're called on to pay. We take up our lodgings wherever we may. If people are kind, we show kindness to them, If people are churlish, why we are the same ; But those who are friendly, fare best in the end. While their pots, bellows, caldrons or kettles we mend. Not even the Parson, the Squire, nor my Lord, A daintier supper than we, can afford. For nature profusely each blessing doth grant, Then why should her children be ever in want ? — Let them share with each other whate'er she may send. Like us — while we've caldrons or kettles to mend. Then fill to the stranger a cup of the best. And when he is wearied conduct him to rest. 192 For the poor lonely wanderer, homeless and bare, Should ever the wanderers' sympathy share ; Now we've one consolation — whate'er be our end. While the world remains wicked — we daily do mend. The Tinkler's ditty being finished, The bottle, too, right sair diminished, Not in dimensions — but contents, Like purses after paying rents ; Anither jar was ordered out, To serve the company about, "VVha still were bent upon the splore, "While they could drink, or sing, or roar. But I had 'maist forgotten fairly. Something I should ha'e min't mair early. Namely, the group o' tiiikler esses, (I kenna whether wives or misses,) That still accompanied this gang Through a' their journeyings alang. 193 For each male veteran o' the squad A sort o' tack-to partner had, Forbye a bunch o' duddy brats, Brought up amang auld pans and pats, And through the country borne in creels, Or trotting at their mithers' heels, While they from place to place were straying. Poor love-sick lasses' fortunes spacing. But to portray aright this gang. Wad tak' my time up rather lang, The reader's, too, it wad be wasting. On subjects little interesting. However, I may here assert That each was just the counterpart — The second self — the rib — the Eve Of him to whom she then did cleave ; And was his like in a' respects With ae slight difference — the sex. But there was ane I must not pass, A truly interesting lass. The only daughter o' the man Wha seemed the Patriarch o' the clan ; s 194 And such a contrast to the rest Was she, as is the east to west, Or as to swarthy night is day, So lovely she — unlovely they. This little sprightly black-e'ed creature A deeper interest felt for Peter, And tended him since he cam' thither Far mair than a' the rest thegither ; And though her tongue was not so loud As ither tongues amang the crowd. Her eye a great deal more exprest Than a' the tongues of a' the rest ; For often had that eye been filled "With drops from Pity's urn distilled ; Oft on her cheek those drops had glistened. The while she sat and meekly listened To Peter's tragi-comic story ; — While round was heard " dear me— I'm sorry,'' " O what a pity,"—" well,"—" I vow," " But bless me ! how did you get through ?" And though he ne'er before had seen her. Her mild and affable demeanour, Her loveliness o' form and feature, Completely captivated Peter. 195 She was as lively as a lintie, 4 Her years might border upon twenty ; And though her dress was rather odd, ZNIade after some outlandish mode. As fair a form it covered o'er As ever silks or satins wore. And sure a lovelier tapered waist The arm of lover ne'er embraced. Her sweet complexion — light brunette, O'erhung with curls of darkest jet. At times was brightened by a smile That would a saint from heaven wile ; And then the expression of her eye Might charm a seraph from the sky. This lovely contrast to the rest So great a power o'er them possessed, That, with one disapproving frown. She'd make the boldest front look down. Not that they worshipped her through fear, (That passion was a stranger here,) But love, esteem and admiration. Still made them court her approbation, And hang upon her every look, "Which for an oracle they took. 196 And though the example she had seen Had not the very fairest been, She still remained as unstained water : — Such was the tinkler's lovely daughter. "With such a sylph, so fair, so winning. To fa' in love were nae great sinning ; At least our Peter thought sae then. And so, indeed, might wiser men. For he who could, unmoved, behold A being of such beauteous mould ; He, who could see the modest blush That would her neck and face o'erflush ; He, who could mark her eyes mild bean^ing. In pity's soft suffusion swimming ; That man, if such a man there be. Who could with cold indifference see Such beauty clothed in smiles or tears — A human form perhaps he wears. But nothing more — his heart, indeed. Must be of flint — his brain of lead ; Unblest through life, he ne'er can know The purest bliss of man below. But then, I wish to mak' it clear. That this same love I speak of here. 197 Is not that grovelling sensual passion That mak's such crowds to ruin dash on. But love of that exalted kind That is by Heaven itself refined. In such a place, at such a time. To be in love were nae great crime. Especially when a' united To mak' the opened heart delighted ; When, heated by the genial bowl, Each generous purpose of the soul, Enlarged, exalted, unconfined, Glowed with good-will to all mankind, And ere the liquor's potent spell Had changed the scene frae heaven to hell. I say, at such a place and time. To feel pure love was nae great crime. But now, the liquor operating Upon the auld, as weel as young, Each tinkler's heart wi' pride elating. And loosing every tinkler tongue. It showed a very different scene Frae ony thing that yet had been. For now they a' were getting glorious. Or rather boisteromly uproarious ; s 2 198 The humblest striving wi' the proudest, Wha wad talk maist, or roar the loudest. Here — ane was telling queer auld stories, There — twa were quarrelling, mad as furies ; Here — ane a smutty verse was bawling. And there — a female tongue was brawling ; Here— sat a chiel that puffed and smoked, Anither there — the table knocked ; Here — ane was boasting o' great feats, Anither there — was muttering threats ; Here— stood a chiel wi' clenched fist, Anither there — his doxy kissed ; And here — was heard the vacant laugh Of blockhead, bellowing like a calf. Amid this tumult, noise and gabble. Resembling much a scene at Babel, "Was heard the mingled strange hotch-potch Of English, Irish, Welsh and Scotch. As things proceeded at this rate, Nor likely soon to terminate, A single circumstance took place That quickly altered quite the case, And did so great a change produce As made the very drunkest douce. 199 The thing was neither mair nor less Than this : — a fellow seized a glass Brimfu' o' whisky, in his ire, And dashed the hale o't in the fire. The fire was brisk — up flew the low Quick as a kindled tap o' tow. Which, meeting wi' the soot aboon. Set a' the lum a bleezing soon. Like shot stars fell the clots o' soot. That, burning, flew the house about. While ilka ane, to save himsel' By speed o' foot, in rising, fell. And as the fire wi' fury burned. Seats, boards, and bottles were o'erturned. Which, midst the uproar and confusion. Dealt mony a black and sair contusion Amang the crew ; — who, daised and foundered, Owre ane anither sprawled and floundered ; While nought was heard but cursing, bawling. The screams o' wives, and gettlings squalling. Amidst this bustle and uproar Peter essayed to reach the door ; But stumbling o'er a heap o' strae That hidden in a corner lay. 200 And finding it baith saft and warm, He thought there might be little harm In lying there, to 'bide the event, And watch to hear how matters went ; For though he wasna fond o' fire, He didna like to risk the mire. And face the blast without the door, As he had done the night before. Meanwhile, recovering frae their fright, A few, that had escaped by flight, Returned again, and, fetching water, Soon put an end to a' the matter : In short, they got the fire put out : A lucky circumstance, nae doubt. For had the fire but put out them. They'd found the earth a right cauld hanie. Especially on sic a morning. For a' their vaunting, pride and scorning. Now, every thing again set right, And morning ushering in the light, The sobered party a' agreed. That they o' sleep stood maist in need. 201 They therefore a' retired to rest, Each wi' his mate he liket best, While poor forgotten Peter lay, Still snug and warm amang the strae . Nor very lang had he reposed. Till baith his e'en in sleep were closed. And then his busy working brain Fell speedily to work again. The tinkler's daughter, fair and kind. Had ne'er been absent frae his mind During the time he was awake ; Yet then he could no freedom take, To tell her she was fair and good, And talk of— love ? no ;— gratitude. But now, set free from a' restraint, Fancy again began to paint Bright scenes of youth, a' fresh and glowing, Love's sweets, and beauty's roses blowing. He dreamt, that, being young again. And walking o'er a spacious plain, O'erspread with summer's richest hue. And brightly gemmed with morning dew. And decked with flowers and trees in bloom. That lent the air a sweet perfume ; 202 While clear the rivulet purled alang, Sweet mingling wi' the blackbird's sang ; He thought that idly walking there, Inhaling morning's purest air. He saw the tinkler's lovely daughter Wading a brook of clearest water, With feet unshod, and ancles bare, Of finest shape, and hue most fair ; That crossing o'er the daisied green, With downcast eye and modest mien, Her feet still bare, her ancles wet, She saw him not until they met ; That then a blush of purest red Her lovely modest face o'erspread. Which, gazing on, he silence broke, And thus with tremulous voice he spoke : •' Dear lassie ! lovelier than the mornr Sweeter than blossoms on the thorn, Lang hae I had an anxious wish To meet thee in a place like this. And tell thee a' this bosom feels. Which every ardent sigh reveals. O list ! and hear this vow o' mine. If thou'lt thy vagrant life resign, d 203 Leave thy rude race, and come wi' me, My loving mate throngh life to be ; — If thou'lt consent — lo ! here, I vow, To love thee aye, as I do now." Then thus the maid, with face averted, "While from her eye the big tear started, And o'er her cheek ran trickling down. Which now was darkened with a frown : " What ! leave my sire, forsake my clan, To live with thee ? presumptuous man ! No ; rather let me perish first Than with a parent's hate be curst ; Become the apostate of my race. And bring on all my kin disgrace ! No, never ; — but if thou'lt resign Thy grovelling race with ours to join, I may consent to bless thine arms, But not on any other terms." Then Peter thus : " Tes, I agree, For what are all my kin to me ? To live upon thy cheering smiles ; With thee I'd trudge ten thousand miles. And with thy race contented share The hardest toil and humblest fare." 204 Then beamed her face with look so kind, While she her hand to him resigned, That Peter, while he fondly seized it Between his own, with rapture squeezed it. And then with both his arms embraced Most ardently her gentle waist. But, ah ! the ecstacy, too great For Peter's poor enfeebled state, Awoke him, panting, breathless, gasping. Just in the very act of clasping ; "When lo ! instead of that sweet lass, Peter embraced the tinkler's — Ass ! Wi' downright wonderment o'erpowered, He at the Cuddy gaped and glowred. Rubbed baith his e'en — then, muttering, stammered , " Gu — gu — gude L — d! I'm a' be-glamoured ; Did ever mortal get the slip sae. As I've got frae this tinkler gipsy ? Was ever ought sae mad provoking ? horrible ! O — shocking — shocking ! To think I hugged a bonnie lass, Then waukened hugging this auld ass. 1 wadna this were kent at hame For a' the goud that I could name. 205 I'm clean bewitched, I really think, Och hey ! — ^my head ! — a drink — a drink !" The tinklers hearing a' this clatter, Approached to learn what was the matter ; When lo ! they saw the ass and Peter, Baith snugly bedded 'mang the litter. But soon as he the group espied, He started up and wildly cried, *' Avaunt ! ye fiends, wi' your curst spells. That mak' poor mortals no themsel's. For, ay since I cam' here yestreen, Twur glamour has misled my e'en, And made me think, and say, and do. Things that I may for ever rue. Avaunt ! I say, ye hounds o' hell, Or loose me frae this horrid spell. O were I but mysel' ance mair ! Hech ! bring a drink — my head is sair." The tinklers seeing him sae mad, Recourse to their auld nostrum liad. Namely, a hearty lunch o' meat. Which soon as he began to eat, T 206 A' the blue devils by degrees Flew frae him like a swarm o' bees ; And left him quite himsel' again, Wi' good sound head and settled brain. Preparing now to tak' the road. He got his person made as snod As circumstances wad allow, Considering what he had come through. It being now about mid-day. He was escorted on his way. But he had ten lang miles o' trudging Ere he could reach his Whitburn lodging. For, poor man, he had wandered far South through the muirs beyond Benhar. Arrived, he got a good night's rest, Which his worn carcase weel refreshed ; Set off for Reekie,* reached it too, But mony a street and lane sought through. And mony a brae gaed up and down, Aft cursing sic a tiresome town, * Auld Eeekie, a common appellation o' the gude town o' Edinburgh,, where Peter's friend resided. 207 And mony a weary round about He had, ere he his friend found out. Xow let me tak' my breath awee. And just suppose twa things or three : Suppose a hearty welcome gi'en. To Peter by his gentle frien' ; Suppose him in the parlour seated, Fu' snug and warm and kindly treated ; Suppose his frien' an interest taking In his new plan o' bannock-baking, And every thing completely settled. Just to his mind as he had ettled ; Suppose him great as ony king, And ye will just suppose the thing. The very thing that ne'er took place, In hapless Peter Cornclips' case. But, on the ither hand, suppose That Peter to the front door goes. Surveys the place, then pulls the beil, Thinking the laird will come himsel', Wi' gladness beaming in his e'e, His poor, yet honest frien' to see ; 208 Suppose then, that a powdered flunky, Tricked out like ony showman's monkey. In antique party-coloured claes, And cheeping shoon as clear as slaes, Ruffles and lace, and sic like gear. As stage buffoons and flunkies wear ; Suppose that he comes to the door. Sees Peter weary, lean and poor. His meagre face wi' bruises scared. His upper garments a' be-glaured. Orders him aff", wi' saucy sneer. For beggar trash get nothing here, D — ns him and all his lousy race, Then slaps the big door in his face : And through the lobby strutting back. Wishing old Nick had all the pack, A lousy, lazy, dirty vermin, "With which the town, for shame ! — is swarming ; Suppose — ^but stop ; we've bad enough O' suppositions and sic stuff; . Try now, and wi' the Muse prevail. To gie a plain straight-forward tale. Without sae mony ins and outs. And langsome turns and round-abouts. 209 For wha can comprehend her meaning, When aye to right and left she's rinning ? True ; — on we'll jog then wi' our tale. In a straight-forward even course, Nor tack wi' every shifting gale. Like Hawser Trunnion on his horse. Weel then, as was supposed before. The flunky coming to the door, And seeing Peter's odd-like figure, At him began to sneer and snigger. To screw his mouth, and hem and cough, Then scold him to get quickly off, Wi' a' the vulgar insolence, And self-important consequence. With which such pampered slaves are puffed up, Wha on the best are fed and stuffed up. Peter began to tell his story, Which put the thing quite in a flurry ; "Be off," it cried, " I cannot hear you, I tell you, sir, I cannot bear yon. Off, off I say! I've heard enough, I'm not accustomed to such stuff." Then making a most graceful wheel Upon its pretty weel-turned heel, t2 210 Into the house the creature rushed, And in his face the great door pushed ; Leaving poor Peter so amazed, That nought he did, but gaped and gazed, Wi' sic a stupid vacant stare, That had ye seen the body there, Ye'd taen him for some ancient bust. For ages hid 'mang dirt and rust : Or warldly frien' o' Mistress Lot, Struck dead and fixed unto the spot ; Or timmer man, for setting up In front o' some tobacco shop r So set his mouth, so fixed his een. His living likeness ne'er was seen. At length, recovered frae his trance, Peter began to leave his stance, But near the spot he still did hover. Hoping he might his friend discover, And be enabled, face to face. To let him ken his waefu' case. But as his evil star, or fate, Misluck, or some such thing wad hae't, 211 (For Fate, like Death, tak's nae denial,) He had to bide a farther trial ; Not ane by fire, like godly martyrs, But ane by mire, like drunken carters, "Wha aften when their swats are in, Regardless o' a paiket skin. Fa' out and fight like folk gane wud. And row ilk ither in the mud. As 'twas within the Police bounds, * "Where stood the house o' Peter's frien', A sergeant passing on his rounds, On Peter fixed his corbie een ; For gentlemen o' his profession. Mixing amang the low and vicious. By their superior education. Become confoimdedly suspicious ; A fact which, to establish clear. Just let us view this red-neck * here, Wha judging Peter might belang To some rapacious thieving gang, * A red collar generally forms part of the ofTicial dress, in Scotland, of an Officer of Police. 212 And stationed there to act as spy, He, like grimalkin, keen and sly, Determined for a while to watch him, And try, if possible, to catch him. For twa lang hours did Peter wait, Lingering about the great man's gate ; But not a soul was to be seen Could tell him aught about his frien'. At last, his patience quite worn out. He thought he e'en might slip about By the back-door, and wait awee. Perchance he there might some ane see That wad mair kindness to him show Than did the powdered flunky beau. But maun I tell it? — here again Poor Peter sadly was mista'en ; For if he was ill-used before, He now was treated ten times waur. Not by a flunky, or sic like. But by a surly mastiff tyke, "Whilk, wi' a loud and angry growl. Seized Peter by the neck, poor soul ! 213 And in the gutter laid him sprawling, While loud for help he fell a-bawling ; But ay the louder he did roar The dog held faster than before ; And if a limb he dared to stir, He was admonished by a gurr Frae the fierce brute, to lie there quiet ; For to get free 'twas vain to try it. Now red-neck, thinking a' things snug, And that he might approach the dog, And bear frae him his prisoner aff By dint o' his official staff; Quite certain that a scarlet neck Wad frae the beast ensure respect ; So, in on Peter straight he ran, But, trowth, he had mista'en his man, Or rather, had mista'en his dog, For he was gript fast by the lug. And ere he could ca' out for aid, Was side by side wi' Peter laid. And now began a glorious splutter Among this trio in the gutter ; 214 . For, on three sides, three mutual foes Alike ilk ither did oppose. Not ane on twa, nor twa on ane, But a' the three against ilk ither. Like Midian's graceless host langsyne, When every man turned on his brother. The bipeds struggled, cuffed, and swore ; The quadruped growled, bit, and tore ; For though he couldna help the quarrel By cursing, yet he weel could snarl ; So that between the men and dog Ensued this pretty dialogue. " Let gae your grip, sir — what d'ye want ?" " Let CO my crip ?" (gurr) " No, I sha'nt. She's shust my prisoner."—" "What ! me?"—" Yes." " Your (gurr) your warrant." — " Look at this." " At that ! — if that be your authority. Here's ane disputes it wi' a — gurr at ye ;" *' Here ! catch him fast, tog," (bow, wow, gurr,) " Tamfound her for an uglee cur ! — She's pit my" — (bow, wow.) — " Sorrow cares ! You're cheap — (gurr) — mind your ain affairs." 215 " Tamn'd tieving rogue ! I knows your cuilt," " You know the !" — " Come, sir, no consult. But mind fat's tue unto my coat ;" (Gurr) " Snarling felp ! I'll cut your throat." " Your coat ! and you ! confound you baith ; Here's ane as big as three o't, faith." " Come ! crip him, sir:"—" Ye hangman's jackall— Vile sweep-street — nab-thief— dirty rake-hole." " Tiel tamn her pluit, man!" — (bow, wow, wow) — " "Weel, sergeant, lad ! wha's prisoner now ?" " Help ! murter ! — O my — plastit felp !'' (Bow wow, wow, wow) " ho ! poliesh, help ! Coot Cot ! tiel tamn !"— " aye— that's it now"— " Help ! poliesh, poliesh !"— (bow, wow, wow.) Alarmed by this unusual din, The whole inhabitants within Rushed out to learn what was the cause ; When lo ! the sturdy mastiff's paws Were firmly pressed on Peter's breast. While the ill-mannered surly beast. Regardless of the official coat, Held the poor sergeant by the throat ! 216 But ordered now, he loosed his grip. And yielding baith his prisoners up, Stood blythely by, his tail a- wagging. Not ostentatiously a-bragging. But, conscious o' his ain utility, Begging wi' a' a dog's humility, A kindly word, a stroke, or smile, The full reward for a' his toil : Like some auld veteran frae the wars, Disabled and deformed wi' scars, "Worn out by battles and by broils. Unhealthy climes, unceasing toils, Deprived, perhaps, o' baith his shanks, Thankfu' to get his sovereign's thanks. The landlord came among the rest. To whom the man of rule addressed A lang harangue, complaining sair O' Peter and the watch-dog there ; " Ta ane, no toubts, a cot tamn tief, Wasna her face tere 'ficient prief ? Ta other, an uncivil tog, Treating her as she'd treat ta rogue, 217 For which, py cot, she'd have her shot, Wishout telay upon ta spot, To teach her to pay more suspect In future to ta scarlet neck ; Ta tamn plack uglee pitch's ghost. She'd hang her at ta first lamp-post.'' An explanation now took place. For recognized was Peter's face, The honest watch-dog was caressed. The man of office was dismissed. But not without this admonition — "Beware on whom you fix suspicion. And fasten not your grappling hooks On all who may have blackguard looks." Peter at length an audience gained, The purpose o' his jaunt explained. With condescension great was heard. While his petition he preferred. And to enforce his argument. To mony a deep drawn sigh gied vent; V 218 Nay, by some folk 'tis even said, That tears by Peter then were shed ; But that is only a report — Of course, I winna answer for't, Bound, as I am, the truth to state, In every thing that I narrate. In good, plain, honest, hame-spun diction, Without embellishment or fiction. Now Peter, having tald his story, "Was answered by his friend, *' I'm sorry, Extremely sorry, I must own, To think that you have come to town, On such an errand as you've come, — Ho, John ! — Fetch up a glass of rum Or brandy, to this starving creature. Or would you fancy whisky, Peter?" " O Sir, just ony thing you please." "And, John, set down some bread and cheese r Or stop, bring rather some warm broth. For he is cold and hungry both ; Yes, fetch some comfortable dinner : — Peter, 1 think you're now much thinner 219 Than what you were last time we met ; — Come, John, be quick — and don't forget A bottle of your good old beer, To cheer the heart of Peter here. "Why, Peter, T am truly sorry. To say I can do nothing for ye ; For let me tell you, you're too lean. And your appearance rather mean. For filling such a situation, "Which, people of a higher station , Would be right glad of, I assure you ; And they should be preferred before you ; For those, you know, who cannot dig. Should never be allowed to beg. Besides, I'm told you've been imprudent. And often done the things you should'nt ; For, if you are belied not greatly. Your conduct has been so-so lately ; Now Sir ! you know, 'twould never do. For me to involve myself with you. While you possess a character That is not altogether fair. I therefore, would advise you, Peter To do the thing would fit you better. 220 And that is, to get quickly home, Nor more upon such errands come, But follow your ovra trade with diligence ; For, be assured, I get intelligence, When any of my poor relations Act counter to their humble stations. Now take your dinner, if you can. And I will send my gentleman. To help you to procure a bed, Somewhere about the Cowgate-head : And lest that you should money lack, To help you on your journey back, Here, take this crown, and so adieu, I've got no more to say to you ; I hope your walk home will be pleasant, Farewell — ^I'm just engaged at present." So saying, quickly he withdrew. Ending, at once, the interview, Leaving poor Peter in a state "Waur than when first he took the gate ; For back again he had to trudge, Deep wading through the mire and sludge, 221 And little else got for his pains, But blistered feet and wearied banes Reader, our tale concluded now, "We will, although we scarce know how. Proceed some moral to deduce From what we've said — which may produce Good fruits, and be of vast advantage. Both to our Sinnerage and Sauntage. (Critic, perhaps, thou'lt say we're coining New words, but no ; we're just combining. "We have our Peerage — very true, Then why not have our Sauntage too, And Sinnerage — if these two classes Wore badges or distinctive dresses ?) For our part, we see no more harm in Drawing a moral from a story. Than in the improving of a sermon By Guns at pulpit oratory ; Then, by your leave, we'll just proceed, Though gude kens how we may succeed. u2 2^ And, in the first place, we may learn, What bitter wages drinkers earn. When, heedless of the consequences, They sit and drink away their senses. Impair their faculties and health, Neglect their business, spend their wealth, Ruin their families, hurt their morals, And get themselves involved in quarrels ; Hence headaches, bruises, foolish whims, Unquiet sleep and frightful dreams, With many other nameless ills, That daily flow from whisky stills. And, secondly, we may observe. That if we have some end to serve. We ne'er should loiter on our way. Lest haply we be led astray Far from our mark, we know not whither, And lose our object altogether ; But use all diligence and speed, Which is the best way to succeed. 223 And, in the third place, we may see, Whatever our condition be, "We should upon ourselves depend, If that condition we would mend ; Nor trust to friends, nor rich relations. For bettering our situations. For this world's friendship's always best When it is least put to the test. And, fourthly, we may here perceive, That if we would the calling leave Which we've been bred to, and aspire To modes of living somewhat higher, The greatest care is necessary. Else, ten to one, but we miscarry. And meet the fate of Whang the miller, Wha lost his mill through greed o' siller. And, in the fifth place, to conclude, We may observe what solid good, In certain cases, may be got, By having on — a good Big-Coat. 224 Now, Reader, that thou raayest have grace To act in thine own proper place "With credit to thyself, and those Who nightly round thy fireside close, And that thou mayest not like an ass Through Peter's miry ordeal pass, Nor get thy good name soiled nor hurt By Calumny's besmearing squirt ; And whilst thou travellest life's rough way, That thou like him mayest never stray. Surrounded with affliction's gloom. By adverse storms of fate o'ercome, Plunging from hardship into hardship, Is the warm prayer of our Hardship. 225 THE DEVIL'S VISIT TO THE ISLANDS OF JAPAN. A TALE : Translated from the Japanese. From his brimstone throne, at the close of day, The devil went out to walk. To visit a " snug little Isle of the sea," And have with his friends some talk ; And over the hill, and over the dale. And over the plain he hies. And still as he walked he whisked his tail. As a cow whisks off the flies. Thus trudged he along without feeling fatigue , Till he came to a very great town,' Then he hid his horns 'neath a Judge's wig. And his tail 'neath a Bishop's gown. And on his cloven feet he puts A pair of dandy Wellington boots ; For, quoth Nick, my friends would be sadly hurt Unless I appeared in style at Court. 226 He went to visit a very great man,- Who very large whiskers wore : He found him beside his flowing can, While from mouth and from nose the red liquor ran, As he wallowed and snored on the floor. " Your servant," quoth Nick, " I'm so happy to find you From radical practices free, That I'll be most graciously pleased to assign you, So soon as friend Death to my care has consigned you, A place near myself which has long been designed you. For being so faithful (o me : — I'll give you to drink of the river of lava. Which flows from the foot of my throne, And you'll eat of the fruit of the upas of Java, A tree which has long been my own : And your bed shall be scented with vitriol strong, Mixed up with manganese ; And if you should graciously happen to long For an old wench or two, Then I've got enow, Such as old Madam Endor, — Xantippe the shrew, Agrippina, Medusa, old Jezebel too. Northern Kate, and Meg Merrilees : And your pot-mates shall be like yourself, meii of weight, Belshazzar, and Heliogabulus great." 227 A portly old lady" he visited next, He never saw any thing fairer nor fatter ; He ogled, and sighed, and looked sore perplexed. And wished himself man, For then he began To feel himself queerish, and half guessM the matter O L — d, cried Nick, what a luscious feast. How fitted to please the great man's taste. In Needle-thread Street* he met an old hag,* Bedecked and bedizened with many an old rag. Quoth Satan, my dear, we're relations, For thou art sure The old scarlet w — e John saw in his Revelations : For the kings of the earth thou hast made to drink Of the cup of thy fornications, Until thou hast made thy name to stink, In the noses of them who can reason and think. Through thy hcrrid abominations. I hear thou art getting a new sable dress," To cover thy hideous ugliness, And tliy wrinkled appearance to mend ; 228 But it rather looks ominous, I must confess, Of thine own approaching end. And O, what a terrible day will that be. For all who have had dealings with thee, When instead of finding themselves enriched, They will find they have only been duped and bewitched ; But the fools can have no just cause to complain ; They were well enough warned by C*bb*t and P**ne.' Confound these two rascals ! they've done me more ill. By that little damnable weapon — the quill, Than e'er has been done me elsewhere, By all the fat tribe of sleek Bonzes in black,' Who make it a rule every Sunday to thwack My poor tortured hide, — till the gaping mouthed pack Almost fancy they hear me receiving each smack, While I gnaw my hot chains in despair : But farewell, my dear Sister, — when aught happens thee, A very warm friend thou wilt have in me. From thence he went to a house of bad fame :' But when he looked round he blushed red with shame, I thought, quoth Satan, that hell was most foul, But this place is dirtier far, 'pon my soul ! 229 He sat him down in an empty chair, And heard some matters debated ; Quoth he, I'll learn some lessons here, How subjects ought to be treated. And tho' I'm king of the shades below, My sceptre I will for a while forego, And sojourn here seven years — or so, To learn how shackles are made : Like Peter the Great, who left Moscow To learn the carpenter trade. He heard " Derry Down" make a frothy speech," Concerning the features of his breech :" Quoth Nick, he has made it quite plain, From the manner in which he " prostrate stands," See-sawing his salt-and-gun-powder-stained hands. That his breech is the case of his brain ; Why, I'd not be surprised if that same stupid elf Would, on one of these days, turn his back on himself; Yet the fellow's rare talents command my esteem More than any one's talents I know, And so well has he used them that soon I'll make him My own Provost-Marshal below : X 230 For such skill he acquired 'iiiong the cropt-headed Pats,'* That he'll wield most expertly my thunder-holt cats. And make the damned felons run squeaking like rats, Througli my dark gloomy regions of woe. Old Cii'cular, '^ too, his black Majesty saw, "With his thumb-screws, gags, and chains. To his under-turnkeys dictating law, And inventing new tortures and pains. Quoth Nick, my dear boy, thou must go with me, For Cerberus '^ grows old and frail, And a famous assistant to him thou wilt be, With thy double face, and his heads three, Provided thy saintship and he can agree, » To guard my infernal jail : By the bye, thou'rt so like him, so hideous, and grim. That I really believe thou art brother to him. But his Devilship never got half so much fun As when he beheld a mountebank Hunn '^ Making sport of an old man's sorrows ; Quoth Nick, that stage gettling has pleased me so well. 231 That I ne'er felt such pleasure before — since man fell : By Jove I I will have him made Jester in hell, To quiz at the poor tortured wretches who yell. When with pain they're all howling in chorus. He looked, and he saw two bags of green Upon a huge table laid ; Crammed full of vile stories about some Queen, Who, 'twas said, had the wanton played. Quoth Nick, I know how these bags came there. For at filling of them I had my own share : Because I always take vast delight, Along with my darling sons of night, In making a character black that is fair. The Vice-whipper-General '° Satan espied. With the Sophister- General " close by his side. Telling stories so grossly obscene. That even old Nick with astonishment stared. For, fiend as he was, he had not been prepared To meet human nature so void of regard, For every thing decent, as e'er to have dared To utter such slanders as those he now heard. So wicked, so low, and so mean. 232 Wei], quoth Satan, for all the experience I've had, I never before thought that man was so bad ; But hold ! — let me look at the creatures again. AVhy, truly ! — they've only the semblance of men ; They are reptiles, I see, of the lowest description, That, hatched in the dunghill of putrid corruption, Are warmed into life by the Treasury's sun : For men ! — even devils could ne'er do as they've done. He saw " Non-Kicordo," '^ and Miss Columbier, With twenty such worthies, brought forward to swear To vile stories cooked '^ up at Milan : Quoth Nick, 'tis now time that my trade I give o'er, 'Tis not worth my while to be Devil any more ; For, lo ! I'm out-deviled by that brazen w e. And eke by that consummate villain. He saw how the Bonzes'" and Quos^' gladly listened To every improbable fib ; And how their chaste eyes most delightedly glistened. And how they yelled out like wild Indians unchristened. When any thing foul was about to be fastened On great Dairo Whiskerman's rib. 233 AVell, quoth Satan, my lads, you're a beautiful set To meddle with such ugly matter ; Pray now, how much wages may each of you get For this pretty business on which you are met ? For that you're well paid for't, my kingdom I'd bet, You make such a rumpus and clatter. However, I wish you success of your job ; May your labours succeed to your wishes ! Then, take my advice, never mind the rude mob. But each of you act by your conscience — your fob, Still minding the " loaves and the fishes." Then success to your bags, and success to your spies. Success to your perjury, bribery, and lies. To plots against people, and plots against Queens, And bickerings between your Outs and your Ins, Who, for aught I can see, are so curious a batch, That in all my dominions I have not your match. Carry on, my dear boys, you are all doing right. Your proceedings have given me a h*ll of delight, I'll home now, full fraught with the knowledge I've got, And through Sulphur- land trumpet your fame ; Yea, I'll bellow your praise till my furnace, so hot. Shall blaze with a tenfold flame. X 2 234 NOTES. Jedda, the Capital of Japan. ' Supposed to be one of the great Quos, or Nobles at Court ; or the Dairo himself. ^ A certain celebrated Quo-ess—" fat, and fair, and fifty." * A street in Jedda, where the Bank of Japan is situated. ' A nickname by which the Bank is personified. * A projected new Note, with a black ground, to prevent forgery. ' Two political writers, whose writings have made a great noise in Japan. ' Priests in Japan. ' A large building in Jedda, where a wholesale manufactory of chains, gags, and shackles is carried on, resembling, both in exte- rior and interior, St. Stephen's Chapel. '" Derry Down, otherwise Long-thong-Derry — a well-known Minister at the Court of Japan, celebrated for making disadvan- tageous treaties, frothy speeches, and blundering bulls ; also for planning foolish and destructive expeditions, but chiefly for apply- ing salt and gunpowder to the newly flogged backs of political de- linquents. 235 "His " fundamental features." '^ A particular sect, distinguished by their cropt hair, inhabiting Patland, one of the islands of Japan. " The head Jailor in Japan. '* In heathen mythology, a dog with three necks, which guarded the gates of hell. '^ A sort of a Merry-Andrew, employed in the chain manufac- tory in Jeddo, whose chief talent lay in turning the sufferings of humanity into ridicule. "* " Two great State Lawyers in Japan, who, in all their words and actions, shewed that they held the incontrovertible doctrine that might constitutes right. '^ A fellow who made it a rule to " forget to remember," and to " remember to forget." " Who has not Jieard of Cooke, who was so well rewarded for cooking up these dainty dishes of Milan scandal ? " 2' The Lords Spiritual and Temporal in Japan. 236 AN EXPOSTULATORY ADDRESS TO DEATH, ON THE DEMISE OF A GREAT LAW LORD. Thou ruthless tyrant, Death ! what dost thou mean ? A few weeks since thou snatched awa' our Queen ; And, greedy monster ! not content wi' that, Thou neist took Lucky Fleeming's auld blin' cat. Weal, twa sic bouks, on whilk to gorge and feast, Might weel hae sair'd thee for three months at least ; But na ; thou's just again at thy auld wark, And, ah ! thou's ever sure to hit thy mark ; For upright Ellenborough's gane, alas ! And that poor doited brute, Neil Daily's ass I Nae mair the ane upon the Bench will tell That " truth's a cursed libel," " false as hell ;" Nae mair the ither through the streets shall trudge, An innocent, insulted, patient drudge, For thou hast ca'd them frae this life o' care. This, to his rest — that, to the L — d knows where. 237 Stop, glutton ! slacken now thy spulzieing trade ; For since thy faithfu' ally, War, is dead, Thou's grown sae keen, that fient haet now thou passes, Not even Queens, nor Judges, cats, nor asses. On what great man wilt thou neist lay thy paw, To glut thy ever-craving horrid maw ? — Some gouty Prince, it's like, and then, of course, Thou'lt doubtless seize Pat Figgan's auld lame horse ; For now thou seems to hae made this a law. That like to like, even in the grave, should draw. Weel, tak' the poor auld brute, thou's welcome till him. Else Pat himsel' will soon be forced to kill him : A useless creature, no worth half his meat, For, like a certain Prince, his hardest wark's to eat. O, that our order-loving Parliament, Sae pure ! sae virtuous ! sae omnipotent ! Wad pass an act to get thee shipped awa' To that detested place — America ; That cursed spot — cursed wi' the want o' Kings, Queens, Princes, Dukes, Lords, Bishops, and sic things 1 There thou might'st gorge and revel till thou'dst burst, Upon a low-born race, wi' want o' taxes curst. 238 Or wad Lord Sidmouth clap thee up in prison, Condemn, hang, and behead thee for high-treason, He'd get the Boroughmongers' thanks at least, For ridding them o' sic a fearfu' pest ; For, truly, in this country ne'er was seen Sae rank a leveller — sic a Jacobin ; Even Spence's levelling system, and Tam Paine's, Compared wi' thine, are only toys for weans ; For when it enters thy capricious head. Thou never sticks to level wi' the dead, Without the least compunction, or remorse, A Queen, cat, Justice, jack-ass. Prince, or horse : It has been proven, too, thou levelling dog. Thou mak'st nae difference 'twixt a Bishop and a hog. But should the Parliament not interfere. And thou be still allowed to linger here ; Should Sidmouth and his keen-e'ed beagles fail, Wi' a' their arts, to catch thee by the tail ; Should gags and circulars, without effect. Thy tod-like depredations leave uncheckt. And thou still prowl about as heretofore. Like Satan, seeking whom thou may'st devour — 239 Then, hear my earnest prayer, O gruesome Death '. Tak' thou awa' as muckle vulgar breath As suits thy purpose ; but, O spare, I pray, Spare pious Sidmouth, and meek Castlereagh ! Spare Geordie Canning, too, that courtly fool, Wha turns our sufferings into ridicule ! O, think on their past services ! and spare Their useful lives that they may serve thee mair. Remember, how thy wark they carried on, To get an auld fat Hog placed on a throne ; Remember, too, how muckle, muckle mair They did, to get that Hog reseated there. Spare their coadjutors — their worthy spies, And for thy profit they'll new plans devise, Whereby a set o' needy starving wretches Will be consigned to thy unfeeling clutches. O spare thy favoured son — the muckle Duke ! Wha for thy sake the office undertook. Of being in thy kitchen second cook. And aft for thee made ready sic a feast. As even a devil wad been proud to taste. 240 For ilka dish made red the verdant grass, Blood was thy soup, and brimstone was thy sauce ; Nae doubt thou's grieved, that now he sometimes lingers The panting bosoms o' sweet opera singers, And that his mighty Dukeship condescends To sort their ither little odds and ends ; For siecan wark as that nae joy can gie To a gaunt fleshless skeleton like thee ; Yet thou must just allow him, gude sir Death, To rest himsel' a wee, and tak' his breath, And he'll begin again as keen and fell To his auld wark, as thou wad'st do thysel'. Thy worthy servants, spare — the Bank Directors, And likewise their infallible inspectors— That hetacombs o' victims yet may be On their high altar offered up to thee. Remember what a swinging sacrifice They lately offered thee, (amidst the cries And groans of an indignant rabble rude, Wha grudge thee even thy most common food,) When Sidmouth, in his holy vestments drest, Officiated as thy great High Priest. 241 O spare a' these ! if it be thy good will, That to the brim their measures they may fill. And mak' themsel's mair worthy thee, their head, By still supplying thee wi' heaps o' dead. And when they've a' performed their several parts, Deprive them not, then, o' their high deserts ; But let strict Justice their good deeds reward With a conspicuous post, a night-cap, and a cord. NOTE. ' The facts of the case are these : — Three men were tried and found guilty of passing forged notes upon the Bank of England, knowing them to be forged. They were condemned accordingly, and ordered for execution on the following Monday. In the inte- rim, however, some facts transpired affecting the character of the Bank witnesses, upon whose testimony the men were condemned ; a warm interest was therefore awakened in tlie public mind in behalf of the poor unhappy individuals under sentence of death. Accordingly, numerous petitions, most respectably signed, from the different wards of the City of London, were forwarded to the office of the Home Secretary, (Lord Sidmouth,) and addressed to the Prince-Regent, praying his Royal Highness to grant a respite 242 for a few days, till a proper inquiry should be made into the cha- racter of the witnesses. His Lordship, however, not being dis- posed to lay the petition before his Royal Master, very coolly re- turned for answer, " That as forgeries had been very frequent of late, he was determined to let the law take its course." — The law took its course — the men were executed — they were murdered. For it turned out afterwards that they were innocent. But the villains, upon whose testimony they were found guilty, were out of the country, and safe. Wliat a fine piece of work here ! Three men are condemned upon false evidence — an appeal is made to the Royal mercy in their behalf — an official steps in, shuts up the foun- tain of mercy, and, by his own ipse dixit, declares that the law must take its course. If this is not treason, what is it ? Shall a servant so far interfere with the Koyal prerogative of mercy — the brightest jewel of the Crown — as to say who shall, and who shall not, be objects of clemency ? But this affair has not been altogether without its use. Juries, since that time, have been more cautious in receiving evidence, and the Old Lady has had to content her- self with fewer victims than she did heretofore. 243 LINES WHITTEN IN A CERTAIN BRIDEWELE, BY A STATE PKISONEK, IN THE MONTH OF APRIL, 1820. Pent up within this horrid cell. How heaves my breast with anger's swell ! To think what I must suffer here. Cut off from friends and freedom dear ; Reft of the truest joys of life. The joys o' hame — my bairns, my wife ; Whilst they sit round a cheerless fire. And wistfully at her enquire What makes their father stay sae lang, And if there's ony thing gane wrang ? And while they watch her looks, and see The big tear gathering in her e'e, The sad contagion spreads around. Till not a tearless cheek is found — Till not a breast but heaves and throbs. Labouring with bitter sighs and sobs. 244 Such scenes, — and there are many such. The hardest human heart would touch — "Would make the Cherokee draw back His scalping knife and tomahawk, Nor torture mair his vanquished foe, But loose and let his prisoner go. Armed with his hatchet, club and bow ; Would make the cannibal, that's bent On eating human flesh, relent. And throw aside his bloody knife, And spare his wretched victim's life. But, ah ! such scenes can never thaw The icy hearts of men of law. For there meek-eyed humanity is dead. And fell Hyena-ty reigns in its stead. But what's the reason I'm confined ? Nae reason, troth, can be assigned, Unless it be, I chance to differ Frae them wha will that 1 should suffer. And that my views o' politics Accord not wi' some statesmen's tricks; 245 Whilst they, good sauls, wha keep me here. Are blest wi' een sae very clear, That they can see that a' is right That's done by them wha hae the might. And so they weel may see, in short, For some o' them are weel paid for't, Five hunder pounds or sax a-year. Should mak' a man see gay-an-clear. And view things in anither light Frae ony poor bard-working wight, Wha doesna get a brown bawbee. And therefore hasna een to see. Yet though a poor man wants the sight. To see things in their proper light. Though wi' a squinting vision, he Mast every thing obliquely see — Must view oppression and taxation As real evils to a nation — Must think state paupers and their brats A vermin o' destructive rats, y 2 246 Devouring up the public good, And robbing man o' half his food : — Though thus, the poor man views the matter, (What pity he can see nae better,) Is that enough for those in power, To gang at an untimely hour. And bind and drag him aff to prison, Under the horrid charge o' treason ? As I was used — nor only I, But scores o' mole-blind fools forby, Wha couldna see, they were sae poor, The beauties o' the scarlet w e ; Wha never bowed the knee in homage Unto the beast, nor yet his image — Wha never did his mark receive, Nor did his lying tales believe — Wha never chimed in wi' the custom O' praising up a rotten system, Wi' paper pictures a' patched round, To hide its parts that are unsound — Wha never could perceive the use O' starving men to feed a goose — Wha never could admit the fack, That black was white, or white was black, 247 But raised their voices loud and Strang, Against what they conceived was wrang. And therefore were they seized by dizzenis. And dragged to Bridewells and to prisons, And there shut up in cauld damp cells. Where not a single comfort dwells, But where the beds on which they lie Are scarcely fit for horse or kye, Where creeping and where jumping cattle Move thick as armies gaun to battle, And where coarse meat in dirty cogs — Meat fit for feeding ducks and hogs- Is served up by some thief-like sinner, Wi' hands wad mak' the deevil scunner. And spew his fire and brimstone dinner. But as for those wha sent us hither. 248 THE WAEFU' LAMENTATION OF THE PROVOST AND BAILIES OF THE KOYAL BURGH OF BLYTHSWOOD. Occasioned by the passing of the Reform Bill. 3. And when the people heard these things, they shouted aloud with a great shout, for their joy was very great. 4. But the chief ruler and the elders which sat in the gate gnashed their teeth and rent their garments ; yea, they lifted up their voices and wept bitterly, making a sore lamentation. 5. And the chief ruler cried grievously, saying, Alas ! alas ! for this great evil which hath now come upon us ; truly may we be called " Ichabod," for the glory is departed from us and from our house for ever. — Book of Jasher, Chap. ix. Wow, Sirs ! what's this come owre us a' ? Wae worth that vile Reforming Law, That's torn the vested rights awa' Frae ilka borough, An' left us Bailies nocht ava' But dool an' sorrow. 249 Alas ! that I should live to see't, The thocht o't 's like to gar me greet. An' gnash my teeth, an' stamp ray feet, Wi' grief an' anger, To think how many pickings sweet We'll pree nae langer. Gane are our bits o' canny jobs, By whilk we used to line our fobs. And creesh our loofs, and gust our gobs. An' dink us braw ; That curst Reform ! it comes an' robs Us o' them a'. Nae close electioneerings now — Thae times are a' gane by, I trow, When ye chose me, an' I chose you ; An' here sit we. As cowed as ony hummilt cow That treads the lee. 250 Hech! but we've got a fearfu' fa', We, wha were wont to gang sae braw, Whase word or nod was ay a law To a' about us ; The rabble now will owre us craw. An' rudely flout us. Whare now are a' our gowden dreams ? Our hole-an'-corner plots an' schemes ?- Gane, like the sun's departed beams, Ayont the hill — While ilka future prospect seems To lour wi' ill. Nae mair we'll dine now wi' his Grace, Nor to my Lord baud up our face, To bargain for some snug bit place For Jock the laddie ; Nor get our wife bedeckt wi' lace An' silks fu' gaudy. 251 An' there's your auld bit house an' mine. We thocht to get replaced short syne Wi' ashler wa's o' freestane fine, An' sclated riggins ; That's past — an' here we still maun pine In auld thack biggins. An' mair than that, I thocht to get A grand piano for our Kate, "Whare, leddy-like, she'd sit in state An' thrum her tune ;- The pirn- wheel now maun be her fate To birr an' croon. An' as for Jock, wi' a' his lear, He needna think on pu'pits mair, For notwithstanding a' my care. Expense an' pains, I fear he jimply has a share O' common brains- 252: But yet, for a' that, his bit lack Wad ne'er hae been a great drawback Unto his wearing o' the black, Provided still Things hadna a' been knocked to wrack By this curst Bill. For had we still possessed our vote, "We might hae made that muckle o't, As, through some Patron, to hae got Our Jock a kirk ; — That's gane — now he maun cast his coat, Poor chiel ! an' work. An' waes me ! since he wants the brains To handle chisels, files, and planes. There's naething for him now remains In this world wide. That I can see, but knapping stanes By some dyke side. 253 Nae mair will Blythswood meet us here, An' dine wi' us four times a year ; We'll be for nae mair use, I fear, To him, och hon ! An' therefore he will never speer The road we're on. Nor yet will Finlay Kirkland ca'. An' treat us in our ain Town Ha', Nor kiss our wives an' dochters a'. An' slip fu' sleek A bonnie yellow George or twa Into their cheek. O had we but ta'en care langsyne, An' made hay while the sun did shine ! But na — we boost (o dash sae fine Aboon our level ; An' wi' our dinners an' our wine. Feast, rant, an' revel. 254 Short-sighted mortals ! ne'er to ween But things wad be as they had been : "VVe little dreamt a blast sae keen For us was brewin', Whase breath wad bring our branches green To wrack and ruin. Aye, aye ! — the crowd may bawl " Reform !"- What wondrous gude it will perform ! To us it proves a ruthless storm — A devastation — A plague — a pest — a canker-worm — Annihilation ! May muckle trouble, dool, an' wae, Alight on Russell, Brou'am, and Grey, They've ta'en frae us our prop, our stay, Our chief support ; But bide a wee,— they yet will hae To answer for't. 256 Aye, that they will — an' wi' a vengeance !— For soon as comes a happy change ance. We'll mak' them chaunt, in Royal dungeons, " Sweet Libertie !" Or try if Robespierrean engines Can set them free. An' a' the rest wha wi' them fought. An' their unhallowed labours wrought. We'll hae them served, too, as they ought, Vile, graceless fallows ! To justice they shall a' be brought — An' that's the gallows. May ruin seize that wicked Press — The movin' cause o' our distress ; It has exposed ilk wee finesse, An' loopy job, An' shown us, in our nakedness. To a' the mob. 256 An' O, confound the Unions a' ! — Sae bauld an' crousely now they craw, They'd rule the King — they'd rule the law,- Ilk thing they'd rule : I fear they'll try to chase awa Our King, ere Yule. But Gude preserve him, honest man ! Frae that infernal, graceless clan ; I hope he'll yet do what he can In our behalf. An' try to mend, by ilka plan. Our broken staflF. An' Heaven shield our spotless Queen Frae ilka scoundrel Jacobin — Fpr she has kept her garments clean, 'Mid a' this stour. Nor filed her fingers wi't, T ween, Up to this hour. 257 May ilka blessin' light upon The glorious Duke o' 'Wellin'ton, An' may he do as he has done ; Gude bless his Grace ! He was our leading-star — our sun, When he kept place. May Heaven uphold Sir Robert Peel, An' Weatherall, that witty chiel — An' Croaker, too, wha fought sae weel, In our ain cause, An' a' the rest wha, true as steel, Maintained our laws. Gude save auld Airland's weeping Church, Now hurklin' low without the porch ; They've torn her mantle, an' her curch They've set on lowe, While wicked corbies crousely perch On her bare pow. z 2 258 An* gin they're no scaui'ed aff, I doubt, They'll pick her bare, clout after clout, Nor leave her ought to wrap about Her naked skin ; Na, vvaur, — they threaten to pick out Her vera een ! An' her gude Bishops still preserve, AVha daily in the temples serve, — Through want o' tithes may they ne'er starve. But aye hae plenty, — For muckle, muckle they deserve, They are sae tenty. They never stain their snaw-white bands By breaking ane o' the Commands, Nor e'er defile their haly hands Wi' dirt o' Mammon ; Then, O ! may those wha'd seize their lands Be strung like Haman ! 259 An' may red wrath an' indignation Be poured out on this graceless nation ! May ruin an' black desolation Sweep owre the land ! "While, safe entrenched in domination. We snugly stand I 260 I'LL AWA HAME TO MY MITHER, I WILL. ANE TAWPIE BALLAD, COMPOSIT BE MISS TIBBIE TOSHMYTAF, HEIEESS O' THAT ILK, IN THE PARISH o' DRUMLIESYKE. AiK — " Laird o' Cockpen." O ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, An' I'll awa hame to my mither, I will ; Gin' I tarry wi' you I may meet wi' some ill, Then I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. It's wearin' to gloamin', an' soon will be late, An' the thing might befa' me that happen'd to Kate, When she gaed to the tryste wi' Will Watt o' the milf ; Sae I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. Sae I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, Sae I'll awa hame to my mither, I will ; A mither's fireside is the safest place still ; Then I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. 261 My mither aft gies me a mither's advice, About modesty, virtue, an' ilka thing nice ; An' warns me to shun ilk appearance o' ill ; Then I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, O ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, Aye ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will ; She says, as I brew, I maun e'en drink sic yill ; "Weel— I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. She bids me beware o' the ways o' young men. As the half o' their tricks silly maids dinna ken. For they 'lure to betray — as the spider to kill ; Hech ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will : O ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. Yes ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will ; I'm young yet, an' simple, and hae little skill ; Sae I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. In this lanely place, I've my fears an' my doubts. For nane but oursel's can I see hereabouts. An' the ill-deedy deil in your head may put ill— Faigs ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. 262 Yes, I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, Troth, I'll awa hame to my mither, I will : What ! here wi' a man at the back o' a hill ? Na ! — I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. I'm tauld that the godly King Solomon said. That he kenn'd na the ways o' a man wi' a maid. Strange ways ! — that could baffle a man o' sic skill ; Saff 's ! I'll awa hame to my mither, 1 will. Hout ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, Na — I'll awa hame to my mither, I will : Sma' ferlie that lasses their wits aften spill ; Come ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. Ye flatter and fraise me, an' leuk unco fain. Pretending ye wish my affection to gain ; But I fear your ain ends ye jist want to fulfil ; Losh ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. 'Deed ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, Sure ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will : Some tongues try the tricks o' the auld serpent still ; Och ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. 263 Ye've heard o' my tocher in gear an' good brass, An' ye ken that ilk pound gies a charm to a lass ; But if pounds be my beauties, your love's unco chill ; Lad ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. Troth ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. Yes ! I'll awa hame to my mither, I will : For I'll ne'er let it gang by the scart o' a quill, But I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, But gin I were sure that ye liket mysel'. Where a blister might light it were easy to tell, Sae, I'll meet you neist Friday, at Mungo's maut kill ; Now, I'll awa hame to my mither, I will. Yes, I'll awa hame to my mither, I will, Now, I'll awa hame to my mither, I will : Be discreet, be sincere, an' ye're welcome back still. An' I'll yet be your ain a' thegither, I will. 264 A KING'S SPEECH. A COPV OF HIS MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY'S MOST GRACIOUS SPEECH, -WHICH AVAS MOST GRACIOUSLY DELIVERED TO BOTH HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, ON THE 24tH OF FEBRU- ARY, 1835. My Luds and Gintlemen : Since you ai'e met, ^ And all upon your benches snugly set ; I feel myself in duty bound to meet you, And with a gi'acious Royal smile to greet you. My Luds and Gintlemen, I should be sorry, To mention anything de-rogue-a- Tory To your high characters, since you are sent. My loving subjects, here, to represent. (Yet let me whisper to myself this truth, (Aside.) I do not like your presence here, forsooth ; For you so frankly smell of opposition I fear you'll drive my projects to perdition.) 265 I'm sure you'll feel with me the evils dire, "Which have resulted from the recent fire, "Which burned your Houses down about your ears, And filled all Cockney-land with sighs and tears ; While wicked scoffers jeered and loudly cried, Kow, now, these Houses will be purified ; For fire, which purged the city once before, Is still as potent as it was of yore. My Luds and Gintlemen — I'm proud to say, That all my allies for my welfare pray ; And are with me upon such friendly terms. As ne'er to dream of battles, blood, nor arms. My faithful Commons — for this once agree To drop your jars, and bring your " maut to me ;" I'm wanting money, and must have it quickly. For cares on cares are pressing on me thickly, I'm growing old, my Ady's growing bulky. And little Vicky's looking mighty sulky ; While cooks and chamber-maids cry out, " I vow. Our Missus looks — I really can't tell how (e)." My Luds and Gintlemen — I'm truly glad To state, that commerce, far from being bad, a2 266 Is really in a flourishing condition, In spite of Continental opposition ; No starving weavers now toil at the loom, But every face wears sweet contentment's bloom ; There's not a man in any branch of trade But what is well employed — and better paid. My Luds and Gintleraen — I'm grieved to state. How much I feel for the poor landlord's fate : Provisions now are sold so very cheap, They can't get in their rents in any shape, They're truly in a miserable plight, And, if not helped, will soon be starved outright ; Then give them fresh corn-bills to raise their grain. And make their lands yield four-fold rents again. My Luds and Gintlemen — the Church, the Church- O leave not that Old Lady in the lurch ; Remember she is frail, requiring crutches. And sore disfigured with foul blains and blotches. She needs your aid — O lend it while you may, Preserve her life that she for you may pray. Rally around her, be her prop and guard, For wicked infidels now push her hard, 267 Scrambling for mitre, surplice, sleeves and bands, For tithes, and teinds, and consecrated lands ; O keep these harpies from her sacred person Who'd leave her nought to set her holy on. Preserve each Bishop, Dean, and sleek soul-curer, Who with gunpowder can make sinners purer ; Preserve their revenues and benefices, Ne'er mind the flocks, but let them have the fleeces. The good old Lady, you'll observe, is sickly. And does not bear her troubles over meekly ; Then give some gentle medicines to soothe her. Some purgatives to make her skin look smoother. Give her warm baths, her tattered dress repair. Smooth down her wrinkles, decorate her hair. Whitewash her well — ^then will she yet shine forth The pride and glory of a gladdened earih — Fair as the moon, clear as the orb of day. And dreadful as an army at Rathcormac fray ! ' NOTE. ' Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners Song of Solomon. 268 STANZAS ON WOMAN. When proud man, for thirst of fame, Madly wades through blood and slaughter, "What his savage heart can tame ? — "Woman ! — Nature's fairest daughter. In this thorny vale of grief Where shall weary man repose him ? Where obtain such blest relief As on lovely woman's bosom ? When the infant is disfrest. What is then its sweetest soother ? — 'Tis the soft — the tender breast, Of its anxious, fondling mother. Where's the only heaven on earth, Where those buds celestial blossom — Truth, love, feeling, meekness, worth? Where ? — in virtuous woman's bosom. 269 What impels the patriot band On to actions more than human, To redeem their dear-loved land ? What but sweet, endearing woman '? Yes, her meek imploring tear With supernal fire endues them : Freedom ! then, how doubly dear. Breathed upon her panting bosom ! _' A 270 AS AE DOOR STEEKS ANITHER CLOSES, OK THE PKOVEEB KEVERSED. Methinks some auld Scotch proverb says " As ae door steeks anither opens ;" Though this may sometimes be the case. Its sad reverse much oftener happens. Let's therefore try the thing anew, (Though it should be as old as Moses,) And prove this axiom just and true, " As ae door steeks anither closes." The man whose trade moves to his mind. Is always sure of friends to help him. And ne'er is at a loss to find An open door — a hearty welcome j 271 But he, whose fortune's on the wane, Who tries — and tries — and tries, but loses. Soon finds just reason to complain, " As ae door steeks anither closes." The haughty minister of state, Who proudly basks in royal sunshine, While numbers daily on him wait, To catch a glimpse of borrowed moonshine ; Poor man ! for all his pomp and power. He sleeps not on a bed of roses. For should his lord but shut the door, Then every door against him closes. The artizan whose dauntless mind Revolts against his proud oppressor. Turned off — can no employment find. For being such a bold transgressor ; His suit is met in every place AVith jibes, and jeers, and turned-up noses ; Thus feels he this sad truth, alas ! " As ae door steeks anither closes." 272 The spendthrift wild, who wastes his wealth In rioting and dissipation, Ne'er dreams, poor fool ! of injured health, Pale want, or blasted reputation. Disease and poverty come on, His credit everywhere he loses, Even self-respect at last is gone, Door after door against him closes. The poor neglected virtuous man. Who long the storms of life has braved. Sinks down, at last, exhausted — wan — Of every earthly stay bereaved ; Yet still has he one prop that's sure. On which his harassed soul reposes. Though spurned from every earthly door. The door of Heaven never closes. 273 ROBIN HOGG'S DELIGHT.' AiK— " Toddlin' hame." Let votai-ies o' Bacchus o' wine mak' their boast. And drink till it mak's them as dead's a bed-post, A drap o' maut broe I would far rather pree, And a rosy-faced landlord's the Bacchus for me. Then I'll toddle butt, and I'll toddle ben, An' let them drink at wine wha nae better do ken. Your wine it may do for the bodies far .south, But a Scotsman likes something that biteth his mouth. And whisky's the thing that can do't to a T, Then Scotsmen and whisky will ever agree ; For wi' toddlin' butt, and wi' toddlin' ben, Sae lang we've been nurst on't we hardly can spean. 1*' 274 It's now thretty years since I first took the drap, To moisten my carcase and keep it in sap, An' tho' what I've drimk might hae slockened the sun, I fin' I'm as dry as when first I begun ; For wi' toddlin' butt, an' wi' toddlin' ben, I'm nae sooner slockened than drouthy again. Your douse folk aft ca' me a tipplin' auld sot, A worm to a still, — a sand bed — and what not, They cry that my hand wad ne'er bide frae my mouth. But oddsake ! they never consider my drouth ; Yet I'll toddle butt, and I'll toddle ben. An' laugh at their nonsense — wha nae better ken. Some hard grippin mortals wha deem themsel's wise, A glass o' good whisky affect to despise. Poor scurvy-souled wretches — they're no very blate, Besides, let me tell them, they're foes to the State ; For wi' toddlin' butt, an' wi' toddlin' ben. Gin folk wadna drink, how could Government fen' .■' 275 Yet wae on the tax that mak's whisky sae dear, An' wae on the ganger sae strict and severe : Had I but my will o't, I'd soon let you see, That whisky, like water, to a' should be free ; For I'd toddle butt, an' I'd toddle ben, An' I'd mak' it to rin like the burn after rain. What signifies New'rday ? — a mock at the best, That tempts but poor bodies, an' leaves them unblest. For a ance-a-year fuddle I'd scarce gie a strae. Unless that ilk year were as short as a day ; Then I'd toddle butt, an' I'd toddle ben, Wi' the hearty het pint, an' the canty black hen. I ne'er was inclined to lay by ony cash, ■\Veel kennin' it only wad breed me mair fash ; But aye when I had it, I let it gang free, An' wad toss for a gill wi' my hindmost bawbee ; For wi' toddlin' butt, an' wi' toddlin' ben, I ne'er kent the use o't, but only to spen'. 276 Had siller been made, in the kist to lock by, It ne'er wad been round, but as square as a die ; Whereas, by its shape, ilka body may see. It aye was designed it should circulate free ; Then we'll toddle butt, an' we'll toddle ben, An' aye when we get it, we'll part wi't again. I ance was persuaded to " put in the pin," ' But foul fa' the bit o't ava wad bide in. For whisky's a thing so bewitchingly stout. The first time I smelt it, the pin it lap out ; Then I toddled butt, an' I toddled ben. And I vowed I wad ne'er be advised sae again O leeze me on whisky ! it gies us new life, It mak's us aye cadgy to cuddle the wife. It kindles a spark in the breast o' the cauld, And it mak's the rank coward courageously bauld ; Then we'll toddle butt, and we'll toddle ben. An' we'll coup aff our glasses,—" here's to you again." 277 NOTES. ' Robin Hogg, an eccentric character, was well-known in Bridge- ton for many years. He had been bred a farmer, which occupation he followed for some time ; but, being unfortunate, he came to Glasgow, where he was obliged to betake himself to the driving of coals for a subsistence. Possessing a pretty good taste and reten- tive memory, he could recite, with tolerable grace, the very best pieces of the best English Poets ; and often, over his cups, in which his misfortunes led him at times to indulge too freely, would he astonish and delight his less refined brethren of the whip, with the finest passages from Milton, Shakespeare, Thomson, Pope or Dry- den. Passing off such pieces as his own, by way of joke, full often would he beguile the time away, and make his gaping auditors, (who, it may be supposed, did not understand a tithe of what he said,) declare, that he was "as deep as ony minister." Some- times, too, when he was " i' the vein," for want of other company, he would deliver to his horse, Anthony's Oration over Caesar's body, Ossian's Address to the Sun, &c., the tears hopping down his cheeks in the meantime, while the horse would prick up his ears, better pleased, no doubt, with these harangues than with the sound of the whip, which, however, in justice to Robin, was sel- dom if ever applied by him. One day I had the curiosity to fol- low him when he was in one of his rhyming fits, and heard him recite very feelingly to his beast, as they trudged side by side along the road, Thomson's beautiful Episode of Lavinia. Although a good deal addicted to dram-drinking, he still was " merciful to his beast," and would not cheat him out of his feed of oats, even for the sake of "anither gill." When rallied upon his love of the bottle, he would good-naturedly reply, " hout man ! ye aye cry about my drinkin', but ye never consider my drouth," and then 2 B 278 he would hum over two staves of the old song of " toddlin hame." He left Glasgow some years ago, and it is supposed he now '• sleeps •with his fathers ;" if so, peace to his ashes : if he had one failing, it was counterbalanced by many amiable virtues, and we may safely aver, that he has hot left his like upon the road, for gentleness and humanity. ~ When a person makes a vow against drinking for a certain time, he is said to " put in the pin." 279 THE DRYGATE BRIG. Last Monday night, at sax o'clock, To Mirran Gibb's I went, man, To snuff, an' crack, an' toom the cap. It was my hale intent, man : So down I sat an' pried the yill, Syne luggit out my sneeshin' mill. An' took a pinch wi' right good will, O' beggar's brown, (the best in town,) Then sent it roun' about the room. To gie ilk ane a scent, man. The sneeshin' mill, the cap gaed round. The joke, the crack an' a', man, 'Bout markets, trade and daily news, To wear the time awa', man ; Ye never saw a blither set, O' queer auld-fashion'd bodies met. 280 For fient a grain o' pride nor pet, Nor eating care gat footing there, But freendship rare, aye found sincere. An' hearts without a flaw, man. To cringing courtiers, kings may blaw. How rich they are an' great, man, But kings could match na us at a', Wi' a' their regal state, man ; For Mirran's swats, sae brisk and fell. An' Turner's snuff, sae sharp an' snell. Made ilk ane quite forget himsel'. Made young the auld, inflamed the cauld. And fired the saul wi' projects bauld. That daur'd the power o' fate, man. But what are a' sic mighty schemes, When ance the spell is broke, man ? A set o' maut-inspired whims. That end in perfect smoke, man. An' what like some disaster keen. Can chase the glamour frae our een, An' bring us to oursel's again ? As was the fate o' my auld pate. 281 When that night late, I took the gate, As crouse as ony cock, man. For, sad misluck ! without my hat, I doiting cam' awa', man, An' when I down the Drygate cam', The win' began to blaw, man. "When I cam' to the Drygate Brig, The win' blew aff my guid brown wig. That whirled like ony whirligig. As up it flew, out o' my view. While I stood glowrin', waefu' blue, Wi' wide extended jaw, man. When I began to grape for't syne, Thrang poutrin' wi' my staff, man, I coupet owre a meikle stane. An' skailed my pickle snuff, man ; My staff out o' my hand did jump. An' hit my snout a dreadfu' thump, Whilk raised a most confounded lump. But whar it flew, I never knew, let sair I rue this mark, sae blue. It leaks sae fleesome waff, man. 2 B 2 282 had you seen my waefu' plight, Your mirth had been but sma', man. An' yet, a queerer antic sight, I trow ye never saw, man. I've lived thir fifty years an' mair, But solemnly I hear declare, 1 ne'er before met loss sae sair ; My wig flew aff, I tint my staff, I skail'd my snuff, I peel'd my loof, An' brak my snout an' a', man. Now wad you profit by my loss ? Then tak' advice frae me, man. An' ne'er let common sense tak' wing. On fumes o' barley bree, man ; For drink can heeze a man sae high. As mak' his head 'maist touch the sky, But down he tumbles by-an'-by, Wi sic a thud, 'mang stanes an' mud. That aft it's guid, if dirt an' bluid. Be a' he has to dree, man. 283 VERSES, SUNG AT THE GLASGOW TYPOGRAPHICAL FESTIVAL, IN THE TONTINE HOTEL, GLASGOW, ON 6tH JANUARY, 1835. Air — " JVeel may the Boatie row." O, WEEL may the Press be plied, And bravely may it speed, And merry may the Press move on, That gie's us means to read. The Press ! the Press ! the glorious Press ! Of mild celestial ray ; Soon may it shed o'er a' the earth One universal day. For countless ages man was doomed To grope in mental night ; At last this Sun of Knowledge rose " God said let there be light." 284 The Press ! the Press ! the giant Press ! Tho' faint at first its ray, It yet shall shed o'er a' the earth One universal day. At first a speck like prophet's hand The infant Press appeared ; But soon it overspread the land, While darkling man it cheered ; The Press ! the Press ! the brilliant Press ! Now lights him on his way, And soon will shed o'er a' the earth One grand and glorious day. Though legal fogs its beams obscure, These yet dispersed shall be ; Then men shall breathe an air more pure, — Walk more erect, and free ; The Press ! the Press ! the glorious Press ! Of mild effulgent ray. Shall grow, until it shed on earth One universal day. 285 Then let us toast our splendid Press — The Press that gives us bread, A bumper for the powerful Press, The tyrant's woe and dread ; The Press ! the Press ! the Samson Press ! Extended be its sway, Till o'er the earth it sheds at last One everlasting day. 286 PETITION. UNTO G n AND A H , ZSQRS., MANAGEKS AT B DYE-WOEKS, THE PETITION OF A R , Humbly Sheweth, That, Tired of the Town, of the Saltmarket sick; With pledging plagued and pestered to the quick ; And driven distracted by a desperate squad, "Whose clamorous clack would clatter meek men mad : — Your humble suppliant, supplicating low, Ventures to vent, in wailings wild, his woe ; Trusting you'll listen to his groaning grief. And stretch a helping hand to his relief. O dark and dreary be that doleful day, When to this sink of sin seduced away, 287 He turned on blythesome B his back :— May that day in the Heavens be ever black, When he exchanged the haunts of hearty men, For a dark, dismal, dingy, dusty den ; Condemned to draw in draughts of putrid air, And pine amidst anxiety and care, While turning over Mammon's meanest coin, Bronzed o'er with blubber, herring scales and brine ; Obliged each day and hour to undergo The pain of hearing tales of want and woe, So finely framed, with so much feeling told. As would make misers give, nor grudge, their gold : Compelled to handle every dirty rag, Stript from the hide of every hateful hag, And doomed each finer feeling to degrade. By bullying every blackguard trull and jade, Who hither comes her tawdry trash to pop. That she may drink it at the next dram shop. That your said suppliant sadly suffers sore, From these said ills on ills, and many more. Which, but to name, or even to think of, must Make man's flesh creep with loathing and disgust. 288 Now, may it therefore please you, Sirs, to list To your Petitioner's sincere request, And take his case into consideration, To save him from this every day's damnation ; And into your employment take him back. And he'll take any job however black, Rather than stay in this detested place. Cut off from all communion with his race, (Or if it be the human race he sees, Good God, it must be, sure, the very lees.) He'll fire your furnaces, or weigh your coals, "Wheel barrows, riddle ashes, mend up holes, Beat cloth, strip shades ; in short, do any thing. And your Petitioner will ever — sing. A K 17th November, 1832. 289 THE QUEEN'S ANTHEM. God bless our lovjly Queen, With cloudless days serene ; God save our Queen. From perils, pangs and woes, Secret and open foes. Till her last evening close, God save our Queen. From flattery's poisoned streams ; From faction's fiendish schemes, God shield our Queen ; With men her throne surround, Firm, active, zealous, sound, Just, righteous, sage, profound ; I God save our Queen. Long may she live to prove, Her faithful subjects' love ; God bless our Queen. 2 c 290 Grant her an Alfred's zeal. Still for the Commonweal, Her people's wounds to heal ; — God save our Queen. Watch o'er her steps in youth ; In the straight paths of truth, Lead our young Queen ; And as years onward glide, Succour, protect and guide, Albion's hope — Albion's pride ;- God save our Queen. Free from war's sanguine stain, Bright be Victoria's reign ; — God guard our Queen. Safe from the traitor's wiles. Long may the Queen of Isles, Cheer millions with her smiles ; God save our Queen. 291 SANCT MUNGO.' Set to Music, and arranged as a Glee for three voices, by John TurnbuU, Esq., and published by J. Brown, Glasgow. Sanct Mungo wals ane famous sanct, And ane cantye carle wals hee, Hee drank o' ye Molendinar Burne, Quhan bettere hee culdna prie ; Zit quhan hee culd gette strongere cheere, Hee neuer wals wattere drye, Bot dranke o' ye streame o' ye wimpland wornie, * And loot ye bume rynne bye. Sanct Mungo wals ane merry sanct, And merrylye hee sang ; Quhaneuer hee liltit uppe hys sprynge, Ye very Firre Parke rang ; ' The Patron Saint of the Glasgow Cathedral ; and the Molen- dinar Burn, alluded to in the third line, is the Glasgow Lethe that separates the two great repositories of mortality — the church-yard of the Cathedral and the Necropolis. 292 Bot thoch hee weele culd lilt and synge, And mak' sweet melodje, Hee chauntit aye ye bauldest straynes, Quhan prymed wi' barlye-bree. Sanct Mungo wals ane godlye sanct, Farre-famed for godlye deedis, And grete delyte hee daylye took Inn countand owre hys beadis ; Zit T, Sanct Mungo's youngeste sonne. Can count als welle als hee ; Bot ye beadis quilk I like best to count Are ye beadis o' barlye-bree. Sanct Mungo wals ane jollie sanct : — Sa weele hee lykit gude zil, Thatte quhyles hee staynede hys quhyte vesture, AVi' dribblands o' ye still ; Bot I, hys maist unwordye sonne, Haue gane als farre als hee, For ance I tynd my garmeiite skirtis, Throuch lufe o' barlye-bree. 293 MY BONNIE WEE WIFIE. Mr bonnie wee wifie and I hae been wed For thretty lang years — yet our time has sae sped, That she still is as kind, couthy, canty and fain, As on that happy day when I made her my ain ; And a braw *' fruitfu' vine" my wee wifie has been, While aromid her our tendrils entwining are seen, And though some be nipt aff, yet she still smiles on me, Wi' the sweet blythsome blink o' her bonnie black e'e. My bonnie wee wifie, to cheer me at e'en. Has a canty bit ingle, a hearth white and clean — A weel redd-up housie, a snug elbow chair, And a lightsome bit supper o' clean halesome fare ; Around our fireside, sit the bairns wi' their beuks. On whom wi' a mither's affection she leuks — Then turns frae them smiling, to smile upon me, Wi' the kind blythsome blink o' her bonnie black e'e. 2 c 2 294 My bonnie wee wifie, when ills on us press, Sits patiently smiling amidst our distress ; Then wha that is blest wi' sae virtuous a mate, Should ever repine at the frownings o' fate? Let the tide o' my fortune advance or recede, I'll thankfully tak' what is wisely decreed, While my wifie is spared, still to smile upon me, Wi' the mild biythsome blink o' her bonnie black e'e- THE EMERALD ISLE. O LAND of the Shamrock and Harp 1. lovely Erin, Where warm hospitality still wears a smile ; May suns more benign, and may prospects more cheering, Arise soon to bless thee — sweet Emerald Isle ; Thou gem of the west, worth and beauty combining. Though dimmed be thy lustre— thy glory declining, Thou yet wilt astonish the world with thy shining. And make thyself loved and respected the while. 295 Though sad sounds thy Harp, though thy Shamrock be drooping. The bravest — the best of thy sons in exile ; Though thousands beneath heavy burdens be stooping, And full-pampered insolence triumphs Ihe while ; Thy Harp shall awake yet, to strains bold and cheering. Thy Shamrock be seen yet, its lowly head rearing— And comfort and joy make their homes yet endearing. To thy injured sons— lovely Emerald Isle. Like thine own Patron Saint, may a Patriot arise soon, To banish the vile yellow snake from thy soil. From clouds of black locusts to clear thy horizon, Which eat up the fruits of thy children's hard toil ; May freedom descending in all her mild glory. Her bright angel wings spread benignantly o'er thee, Thy ancient renown— thy lost rights to restore thee, And give thee new splendour — sweet Emerald Isle. 296 SWEET BET OF ABERDEEN. AiB— " The Rose of Allandale." How brightly beams the bonnie moon, Erae out the azure sky ; While ilka little star aboon Seems sparkling bright wi' joy. How calm the eve ! how blest the hour ! How soft the sylvan scene ! How fit to meet thee, lovely flower ! Sweet Bet of Aberdeen. Now, let us wander through the broom, And o'er the flowery lea ; While simmer wafts her rich perfume, Frae yonder hawthorn tree : » There, on yon mossy bank we'll rest, Where we've sae aften been, Clasp'd to each other's throbbing breast — Sweet Bet of Aberdeen ! 297 How sweet to view that face so meek, — That dark expressive eye,— To kiss that lovely blushing cheek,— Those lips of coral dye ! But O ! to hear thy seraph strains, Thy maiden sighs between, Makes rapture thrill through all my veins — Sweet Bet of Aberdeen ! O ! what to us is wealth or rank ? Or what is pomp or power ? More dear this velvet mossy bank, — This blest extatic hour ! I'd covet not the Monarch's throne. Nor diamond-studded Queen, "While blest wi' thee, and thee alone» Sweet Bet of Aberdeen. 298 JESSY M'LEAN. O HAKK ! an' I'll tell you o' Jessy M'Lean ; She promis'd shortsyne she would soon be my ain, So mind ye'll be ready to come on neist Friday, An' see me get buckled to Jessy M'Lean. Lang, lang hae I lo'ed her, and faithfully woo'd her, Yet ne'er has she treated my suit wi' disdain ; For sense an' good nature enliven ilk feature, And guileless the heart is o' Jessy M*Lean. Tho' nane o' your butterfly beauties sae vain, That flutter about, aye new lovers to gain ; Yet she has attractions to catch the aff'ections. And prudence, the heart that she wins, to retain. Her mild look so touching, her smile so bewitching, Her rich melting tones, sweet as seraphim's strain, Rush through my heart thrilling, and wake every feeling Of tender attachment for Jessy M'Lean. 299 When sitting beside her, my heart is aye fain, To think what a treasure will soon be my ain ; Nae fause gaudy glitter, to cheat, then embitter, But pure solid worth, without hollow or stain. And should a bit callan e'er bless our snug dwallin', Or ae bonnie lassie, (as heaven may ordain,) The sweet smiling creature, its mither ilk feature, Will knit me still closer to Jessy M'Lean. CONSTANCY. Ah no !— I cannot say " farewell," 'Twould pierce my bosom through. And to this heart 'twere death's dread knell To hear thee sigh—" adieu." Though soul and body both must part. Yet ne'er from thee I'll sever, For more to me than soul thou art, And O I I'll quit thee— never. 300 Whate'er through life may be thy fate, That fate with thee I'll share, If prosperous — be moderate. If adverse — meekly bear : This bosom shall thy pillow be In every change whatever, And tear for tear I'll shed with thee. But O ! forsake thee — never. One home — one hearth shall ours be still, And one our daily fare, One altar, too, where we may kneel, And breathe our humble prayer ; And one our praise that shall ascend To one all-bounteous Giver, And one our will, our aim, our end, For O ! we'll sunder — never. For when that solemn hour shall come That sees thee breathe thy last, That hour shall also fix my doom. And seal my eyelids fast ; 301 One grave shall hold us, side by side. One shroud our clay shall cover, And one our souls shall mount and glide Through realms of love — for ever. LOVELY MAIDEN. Lovely maiden, art thou sleeping? Wake, and fly with me, my love. While the moon is proudly sweeping Through the ether fields above ; While her mellow'd light is streaming Full on mountain, moor, and lake ! Dearest maiden, art thou dreaming ? 'Tis thy true love calls — awake ! All is hush'd around thy dwelling, Even the watch-dog's lull'd asleep ; Hark ! the clock the hour is knelling. Wilt thou then thy promise keep ? 2 D 302 Yes, I hear her softly coming, Now her window's gently rais'd, There she stands, an angel blooming — Come, my Mary ! haste thee, haste ! Fear not, love ! thy rigid father Soundly sleeps, bedrench'd with wine ; 'Tis thy true love holds the ladder. To his care thyself resign ! Now my arms enfold a treasure. Which for worlds I'd not forego ; Now our bosoms feel that pleasure. Faithful bosoms only know. Long have our true loves been thwarted By the stern decrees of pride. Which would doom us to be parted, And make thee another's bride. But, behold ! my steeds are ready. Soon they'll post us far away ; Thou wilt be Glen Alva's Lady Long before the dawn of day ! 303 THE NAILER'S WIFE. Aia— •• Willie Wastle." Theke lives a Nailer wast the raw, "Wi' brain o' peat, and skull o' putty ; He has a wife — gude saff us a' ! A randy royt ca'd Barmy Betty ! O sic a scauld is Betty ! Och hey ! how bauld is Betty ! Xantippe's sel', wi' snash sae snell, Was but a lamb compared wi' Betty. An' O but she's a gruesome quean, Wi' face like ony big bass fiddle, Twa flaming torches are her een, Her teeth could snap in bits— a griddle. O what a wight is Betty ! O sic a fright is Betty ! Wi' fiery een, an' furious mien. The queen o' terrors sure is Betty ! 364 Ye've seen upon a rainy night, Upon the dark brown clouds refleckit, Clyde Airn "Warks' grim an' sullen light — Then, that's her brow when frowns bedeck it. O what a brow has Betty ! O sic a cowe is Betty ! Her vera glow'r turns sweet to sour, Sae baleful is the power o' Betty. It had been good for you and me, Had mither Eve been sic a beauty, She soon wad garr'd auld Saunders flee Back to his dungeon dark an' sooty. O what a grin has Betty ! O how like Sin is Betty ! The auld " foul thief" wad seek relief. In his maist darksome den frae Betty. Whene'er you see a furious storm, Uprootin' trees, and lums down smashin'. Ye then may some idea form, Of what she's like when in a passion. ap5 O what a barmy Betty ! O sic a stormy Betty ! The wind an' rain may lash the plain, But a' in vain they strive wi' Betty. For then the weans she cuffs and kicks, In fau't or no, it mak's nae matter : While trenchers, bowls, and candlesticks. Flee through the house wi' hailstane blatter, O what a hag is Betty ! O sic a plague is Betty ! Dog, cat, an' mouse, a' flee the house, A-wondering what the deuce means Betty. Her tongue — but, to describe its power. Surpasses far baith speech and writing ; The Carron blast could never roar Like her, when she begins a-flyting. O what a tongue has Betty ! O siccan lungs has Betty ! The blast may tire, the flame expire, But nought can tire the tongue o' Betty. 2 D 2 THE FORSAKEN. O GIVE nje back that blissful time, When I so fondly gazed on thee, And loved — nor deemed my love a crime, Till now, too late, my fault I see. O give me back my innocence ! Alas ! that may not — cannot be, Too deep, too dark is my offence. For purity to dwell with me. Hast thou forgot the solemn vows. So oft exchanged by thee and me. While seated underneath the bonghs Of yonder venerable tree ? Those vows, indeed, may be forgot, Or only laughed at, now, by thee, But to thy mind theyHI yet be brought, When cold below the sod I'll be. 307 How could'st thou treat a maiden so. Who would have gladly died for thee 'i Think, think what I must undergo, Think of my load of infamy ; O could repentance wash my stain, What peaceful days I yet might see : But no ; — I ever must remain A victim of my love for thee. O MITHER ! ONY BODY. Air—" -S'tV Alex. McDonald's Reel." " O MiTHEE, ony body ! •' Ony body ! ony body ! " O mither, ony body ! *' But a creeshy weaver. " A weaver's just as good as nane, "A creature worn to skin an' bane, " I'd rather lie through life my lane, " Than cuddle wi' a weaver. 308 The lassie thocht to catch a laird ; But fient a ane about her cared ; For nane his love had e'er declared, Excepting, whiles — a weaver. Yet ne'er a weaver wad she tak'. But a' that cam', she sent them back, An' bann'd them for a useless pack. To come nae raair and deave her. Their sowan crocks — their trantlum gear- Their trash o' pirns she couldna bear ; An' aye the ither jibe and jeer She cuist at ilka weaver. But sair she rued her pridefu' scorn, E'er thretty nicks had marked her horn. For down she hurkled a' forlorn, In solitude to grieve her. She gaed to kirk, she gaed to fair. She spread her lure, she set her snare, But ne'er a nibble gat she there, Frae leading apes to save her. 309 At last, unto the barn she gaed, An' ilka e'ening duly pray'd, That some ane might come to her aid, An' frae her wants relieve her. An' thus the lassie's prayer ran — " O send thy servant some bit man, "Before her cheeks grow bleach'd an' wan, " Aa' a' her beauties leave her." A weaver lad wha ance had woo'd. But cam na speed do a' he could. Now thought her pride might be subdued, An' that he yet might have her. He watched when to the barn she gaed. An' while her bit request she made. In solemn tone, he slowly said — " Lass— will ye tak' a weaver ?" " Thy will be done — I'm now content, " Just ony body ere I want, " I'll e'en be thankfu' gin thou grant " That I may get a weaver." 310 The weaver, he cam' yont neist day, And sought her hand— she ne'er said " nay," But thocht it time to mak' her hay, So jumpit at the weaver. Now, ye whase beauty's on the wane, Just try the barn, at e'en, your lane ; " Sma' fish are better far than nane, " Ye'll maybe catch a weaver." JUNE AND JANUARY. AiK — "Willie was a Wanton Wag." FRosTY-bearded warlock body, "Wife to you I'll never be ; Rather wad I wed the wuddie. Or a runkled maiden die ; Gang your wa's and seek some ither— Ane that's weary o' her life. For ye're liker Death's half-brither, Than a man that wants a wife. 311 What care I for a' your grandeur, Gear and lands, and houses braw ? Sapless rung ! the witch o' Endor Scarce wad taen you wi' them a' ! Troth, ye might hae hain'd your siller, That ye've spent on fripperies vain ; Dotard fool ! to think a tailor E'er could mak' you young again ! When you gat your dandy stays on, Was't to mak' you trig an' sma' ; Or for fear that ye might gyzen, And in staves asunder fa' ? Ye wad tak' me to your bosom, Buy me braws an' ilk thing nice ! Gude preserve's ! I'd soon be frozen, Clasp'd by sic a sherd o' ice ! Hoot ! haud aff— ye're quite ridic'lous, Wi' your pow as white as snaw. An' your drumstick shanks sae feckless, Aping youth o' twenty-twa; 312 Wlia could thole your senseless boasting, Squeaking voice, an' ghaistlike grin V Doited driveller ! cease your boasting, Else gie ower your fulsome din. Wha could sit an' hear a story, 'Bout a bosom's burning pains, Frae an auld " Memento mori," Sand-glass, skull, an' twa cross banes ? But for fear my scorn should cool ye, Hark ! I'll tell you what I'll do, When December's vyed to July, There's my Jit, I'll then tak' you. MARRY FOR LOVE AND WORK FOR SILLER. When I and my Jenny thegither were tied, We had but sma' share o' the world between us ; Yet lo'ed ither weel, and had youth on our side. And strength nd guid health were abundantly gi'en us ; 313 I warsled and toiled through the fair and the foul, And she was right carefu' o' what I brought till her, For aye we had mind o' the canny auld rule, Just "marry for love, and work for siller.'' Our bairns they cam' thick— we were thankfu' for that, For the bit and the brattie cam' aye alang wi' them ; Our pan we exchanged for a guid muckle pat. And somehow or ither, we aye had to gi'e them. Our laddies grew up, and they wrought wi' mysel'. Ilk ane gat as buirdly and stout as a miller ; Our lasses they keepit us trig aye, and hale, And now we can count a bit trifle o' siller. But I and my Jenny are baith wearin' down, And our lads and our lasses hae a' gotten married ; Yet see, we can rank wi' the best i' the town. Though our noddles we never too paughtily carried. And mark me — I've now got a braw cockit hat, And in our civic building am reckon'd a pillar ; Is na that a bit honour for ane to get at, yfha married for love, and wha wrought for siller ? 2£ 314 MY GUDEMAN. AiK— " Loch-Erroch Side." Mv gudeman says aye to me, Says aye to me, says aye to me ; My guderoan says aye to me, Come cuddle in my bosie ! ' Though wearin' auld, he's blyther still Than raony a swankie youthfu' chiel, And a' his aim's to see me weel. And keep me snug and cozie. For though my cheeks, where roses grew, Hae tint their lively glowing hue. My Johnnie's just as kind and true As if I still were rosy. Our weel-won gear he never drank, He never lived aboon his rank. Yet wi' a neebour blythe and frank. He could be as jocose aye. The first four lines form the chorus of a very old Song. 315 We hae a hame, gude halesome cheer. Contentment, peace, a conscience clear, And rosy bairns to us mair dear Than treasures o' Potosi : Their minds are formed in virtue's school, Their fau'ts are check'd wi' temper cool. For my gudeman mak's this his rule, To keep frae hasty blows aye. It ne'er was siller gart us wed. Youth, health, and love, were a' we had, Possess'd o' these, we toil'd fu' glad, To shun want's bitter throes aye ; We've had our cares, we've had our toils. We've had her bits o' troubles whiles, Yet, what o' that ? my Johnnie's smiles Shed joy o'er a' our woes aye. Wi' mutual aid we've trudged throush life, A kind gudeman, a cheerfu' wife ; And on we'll jog, unvexed by strife. Towards our journey's close, aye ! 316 And when we're stretch'd upon our bier, Oh may our souls, sae faithfu' here, Together spring to yonder sphere, "Where love's pure river flows aye. COME THEN, ELIZA DEAR. Dearest Eliza, say, wilt thou resign All thy companions gay, and become mine, "Wilt thou, through woe and weal, Be my loved partner still. Share with me every ill. Nor e'er repine ? Wilt thou, O lovely fair! when I'm distress'd, All my afflictions share, soothe them to rest ? Wilt thou, when comforts fail. When woe and want assail, With sympathizing wail. Cling to this breast ? 317 Yes, yes, O dearest youth ! here I resign. All else I prize on earth, thy fate to join ; Gladly I'll share thy woes, Soothe thee to calm repose, While heaven on me bestows Such love as thine. Come then, Eliza dear, come to this breast, Thou alone reignest here, kindest and best ; If wealth and rural peace. If love that ne'er shall cease. Can give thee ought like bliss. Thou shalt be bless'd. MARY BEATON. Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Could I but gain her for my ain, I'd be the blythest man in Britain. 2 E 2 318 I've woo'd and sued this mony a day, Ilk tender vow o' love repeatin'. But still she smiles, and answers " nay," While I, puir wight ! am near the greetin'. Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! If smiles frae her can wound sae sair, How sair were frowns frae Mary Beaton ! The lee-lang night I sich and grane. An' toss an' tumble till I'm sweatin', For wink o' sleep can I get nane. For thinkin' still on Mary Beaton. Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton J Poor troubled ghaist ! I get nae rest ; And what's my trouble ? Mary Beaton. When ither youngsters blythe an' gay, Set affto join some merry meetin'. By some dyke-side I lanely stray, A-musing still on Mary Beaton. 319 Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! A' mirth an' fun, I hate an' shun, An' a' for sake o' Mary Beaton. I ance could laugh an' sing wi' glee, And grudg'd the hours sae short and fleetin', But now ilk day's a moon to me, Sae sair I lang for Mary Beaton. Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Till ance she's mine, I'll waste an' pine, For now I'm past baith sleep an' eatin'. Her fairy form sae light an' fair, Her gracefu' manner sae invitin', Alas ! will kill me wi' despair. Unless I soon get Mary Beaton. Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Bonnie blooming Mary Beaton ! Wad she but bless me wi' a " yes," Oh how that " yea" my lot wad sweeten ! 320 O PETER M'KAY. ANE SOBER ADVICE TO ANE DRUCKEN SOUTER IN PBRTH. Air — *' Come under my Plaidie." O Peter M'Kay ! O Peter M'Kay ! Gin ye'd do like the brutes only drink when ye're dry, Ye might gather cash yet, grow gaucy and gash yet. And carry your noddle Perth-Provost-pow-high ; But poor drucken deevil, ye're wed to the evil Sae closely, that naething can sever the tie ; Wi' boring, and boosing, and snoring, and snoozing, Ye emulate him that inhabits the sty. O Peter M'Kay ! O Peter M'Kay ! I'm tauld that ye drink ilka browster wife dry ; — When down ye get sitting, ye ne'er think o' flitting, While cogie or caup can a dribble supply ; — That, waur than a jaw-box, your monstrous maw soaks Whate'er is poured in til't, while " give" is the cry ; And when a' is drunk up, ye bundle your trunk up. And bid, like the sloth, the bare timmer good-bye. 321 O Peter M'Kay ! O Peter M'Kay ! Gang hame to your awls, and your Hngels apply, Ca' in self-respect, man, to keep you correct, man ; The task may be irksome — at ony rate try ; But gin ye keep drinking, and dozing, and blinking, Be-clouding your reason, God's light from on high. Then Peter, depend on't, ye'll soon make an end on't. And close your career 'neath a cauld wint'ry sky. IT'S NO THAT THOU'RT BONNIE. It's no that thou'rt bonnie, it's no that thou'rt braw. It's no that thy skin has the whiteness o' snaw. It's no that thy form is perfection itsel'. That mak's my heart feel what my tongue canna tell ; But oh 1 it's the soul beeming out frae thine e'e. That mak's thee sae dear and sae lovely to me. 322 It's pleasant to look on that mild blushing face, Sae sweetly adorn'd wi' ilk feminine grace, It's joyous to gaze on these tresses sae bright, O'ershading a forehead sae smooth and sae white ; But to dwell on the glances that dart frae thine e'e, O Jeanie ! it's evendown rapture to me. That form may be wasted by lingering decay, The bloom of that cheek may be wither'd away, Those gay gowden ringlets that yield such delight, By the cauld breath o' time may be changed into white ; But the soul's fervid flashes that brighten thine e'e, Are the offspring o' heaven, and never can die. Let me plough the rough ocean, nor e'er touch the shore. Let me freeze on the coast of the bleak Labradore, Let me pant 'neath the glare of a vertical sun, Where no trees spread their branches, nor streams ever run ; Even there, my dear Jeanie, still happy I'd be. If bless'd wi' the light o' thy heavenly e'e. 323 A MOTHER'S DAUTY. AiK " Ml/ mither's aye glowrin' owre me." My mither wad hae me weel married. My mither wad hae me weel married ; Na, she tries a' she can To get me a gudeman, But as yet a' her plans hae miscarried. To balls and to concerts she hies me, And meikle braw finery buys me ; But the men are sae shy, They just glow'r and gang by, There's nane has the sense yet to prize me. To ilka tea-party she tak's me. And the theme o' her table-talk mak's me ; But the folks leuk sae queer. When she cries " Lizzy ! dear," That their conduct moat grievously racks mc. 324 She haurls me aff to the coast there, Expecting to mak' me the toast there ; But somehow or ither, A lass wi' her mither, Discovers her time is but lost there. At the kirk, too, I'm made to attend her, Not wholly heari-homage to render. But in rich *' silken sheen," Just to see and be seen, And to dazzle the gowks wi' my splendour ; But for a' my sweet smirks and my glances, There's never a wooer advances To oxter me hame, Wi' my dainty auld dame ; Alas, now, how kittle my chance is ! I'm sore I'm as good as my cousin, Wha reckons her joes by the dizen ; That besiege her in thrangs, Ilka gate that she gangs, A' swarmin' like bumbees a-bizzin'. 323 And for beauty, pray what's a' her share o't ? Like me she could thole a hue mair o't ; For it's granted by a', Though she dresses right braw, She has wonderfu' little to spare o't. But I trow I maun try a new plan yet, And depend on mysel' for a man yet ; For my cousin Kate vows, That some mithers are cowes. That wad scaur the best chiel that e'er ran yet. And gin I hae the luck to get married, Gin I hae the luck to get married, Wi' a husband to guide, (Let my cousin deride,) I'll be proud that my point has been carried. 2 F 326 O COME WI' ME. O COME wi' me, O come wi' me, O come wi' me, my Mary, And I'll mak' thee the brawest bride In bonny Inverary. A silken gown o' purple hue, A bonnet o' the azure blue. And best o* a', a heart that's true, I'll gie to thee, my Mary. Then come wi' me, O come wi' me. Then come wi' me, my Mary, And shine, the loveliest o' the fair. In bonny Inverary. Nae mair thou'lt need to tend the sheep, Upon the mountain's side sae steep, But in these faithfu' arms thou'lt sleep, And dream o' love, my Mary. 327 Now come wi' me, O come wi' me, Now come wi' me, my Mary, And thou shalt be the happiest wife, In bonny Inverary. How mony lads will tell a tale. That o'er soft woman may prevail. And leave her lorn at last, to wail Their want o' faith, my Mary ? But come wi' me, O come wi' me. But come wi' me, my Mary, And prove the warmest, truest love, In bonny Inverary. The great Argyle, wi' a' his land. His lineage, rank and titles grand, Mair wealth than we cap ne'er command, The wealth o' love, my Mary. Then come wi' me, O come wi' me, Then come wi' me, my Mary, And live a life o' love and bliss In bonny Inverary. 328 O DEAR IS OUR HAME. O DEAR is our hame by yon bonnie burn-side, Where the blue-bells and primroses blaw, Where the sweet scented hawthorn, in maidenly pride, Spreads a robe that outrivals the snaw ; And the wide spreading tree, where my Edwin met me, Sae aft in the gloamin' wi' love-lighted e'e ; While I sighing confest, as I leaned on his breast. That I lo'ed him the dearest of a'. O dear is our hame by yon bonnie burn-side. Where the blue-bells and primroses blaw. Where the sweet scented hawthorn, in maidenly pride. Spreads a robe that outi'ivals the snaw. How dear yet to me are those scenes of our youth. Where the moments so joyously flew. When my Edwin was constancy, faithfulness, truth, As still he is faithful and true. 329 How blest is our lot, in that calm happy spot, With our bonnie wee lammies around our snug cot, Full of innocent glee, running careless and free, From pastime to pastime still new. How dear yet to me are those scenes of our youth, "Where the moments so joyously flew ; When my Edwin was constancy, faithfulness, truth, Aa still he is faithful and true. "HOUT AWA', JOHNNIE, LAD!" HouT awa', Johnnie, lad ! what maks ye flatter me ? Why wi' your praises sae meikle bespatter me ? Why sae incessantly deave and be-clatter me. Teasing me mair than a body can bide ? Can I believe, when ye " angel" and " goddess" me, That ye're in earnest to mak' me your bride ? Say, can a woman o' sense or yet modesty. Listen to talk frae the truth sae far wide ? 2 F 2 330 Few are the flatterer's claims to sincerity, Loud though he boast o' his honour and verity ; Truth frae his lips is a wonderfu' rarity, Words by his actions are sadly belied ! Woman he deems but a toy to be sported wi', Dawted or spurned at, as caprice may guide ; Blooming a while to be dallied and courted wi'. Then to be flung like auld lumber aside ! True love has seldom the gift o' loquacity. Lips to express it, aft want the capacity : Wha, then, can trust in a wooer's veracity, Whase butter'd words o'er his tongue saftly slide ? What are love's tell-tales, that give it sweet utterance. Wherein the maiden may safely confide ? What — but the glances, the sighs and heart flutterings. Of the loved youth who takes truth for his guide ? Yet though I've spoken wi' seeming severity, Made observations wi' prudish asperity, I'd be the last ane to geek, or to sneer at ye. Kenning how little is made by fause pride. 331 Could we but then understand ane anither, then Soon wad my bosom the matter decide ; Leaving my worthy auld faither and mither, then Hey, Johnnie, lad ! I'd become your ain bride. THE GREEK CHIEF TO HIS COUNTRYMEN. ATHENIAN AIK. The mild evening blushes afar in the west, Among the green bushes each bird finds its nest. Unlike troubled mortals, The love-mated turtles, Among their green myrtles. Sink calmly to rest. But where shall the wanderer his weary head lay, When wide roams the plunderer insatiate on prey. 332 Our sweet homes devouring, Our life's blood out-pouring, And red ruin showering, On all in his way ? O rouse from your torpor ! my countrymen all ; Too long the usurper has held us in thrall — Our fire-levell'd dwellings, Our childrao's loud waitings, Our wives' injured feelings. Most powerfully call. Too long has the Crescent triumphantly shone. While we, all quiescent, have tamely looked on ; 'Twas not so of old, when Our sires brave and bold then, Their foemen laid cold then, At famed Marathon. O, for the three hundred free Spartans so brave, Would they, too, be plundered by slaves of a slave ? 333 No ! rather than bear it, "With tame servile spirit, The Turk should inherit The Persian's grave ! Then rouse, ye degraded ! and onward with me ; Your laurels are faded, what worse can you be ? The chains that enthral you, No more let them gall you. But burst them. Then — shall you Be happy and free. "DINNA FORGET." Am — " When Adam at first was created." Come, put on thy finger this ring, love ; And, when thou art far o'er the sea. Perhaps to thy mind it will bring, love. Some thought — some remembrance — of me ; 334 Our moments of rapture and bliss, love, The haunts where so oft we have met, These tears, and this last parting kiss, love, It tells thee — O " dinna forget ! We might look on yonder fair moon, love. Oft gazed on by us with delight. And think of each other alone, love, At one sacred hour every night : But, ah ! ere she'd rise to thy view, love, To me, she long, long would be set ; Then look to this token more true, love. On thy finger — and " dinna forget!'' Thou mayest meet faces more fair, love. And charms more attractive than mine ; Be moved by a more winning air, love, Or struck by a figure more fine : But, shouldst thou a brighter eye see, love. Or ringlets of more glossy jet, Let this still thy talisman be, love, Look on it, and " dinna forget!" 395 And, oh ! when thou writest to me, love, The sealing impress with this ring ; And that a sweet earnest will be, love. To which, with fond hope, I will cling ; That thou to thy vows wilt be true, love ; That happiness waiteth us yet ; One parting embrace — now adieu, love — This moment I'll never forget ! WHEN YOUTHFU' LOVE'S DELIGHTFU' TIES. Air—'* The Waefu' Heart." When youthfu' love's delightfu' ties, By perfidy are broke. Or when we lose whom most we prize, By fate's determined stroke ; When ills on ills thick round us press, And friends our cause desert, What then remains for us ? alas I A lanely waefu' heart. 336 How desolate that hapless wight, On whom such evils fall, To him, a starless, cheerless night, Enshrouds and saddens all ; Tet, should he then, that comfort seek, Heaven can alone impart, "Who knows what light benign may break Upon his waefu' heart ? ISABELL. AiB — " Miss Graham of Inchbrecky." "When lads and lasses a' convene, To daff awa' an hour at e'en, I tak' my way across the green. To meet my Isabell. I meet her at our trysting place, "Where midst our mutual fond embrace, The blushes on her bonnie face. Her bosom-secrets tell ; 337 And O how swift the moments pass, "When seated on the verdant grass, I snatch a kiss frae my dear lass, My blooming Isabell. How sweet — on such an hour at e'en. Beneath the silver moon serene. Whose mellow tints give each lov'd scene A soft bewitching spell — How sweet to meet my lassie dear, Down by yon burnie, wimpling clear, Where sweetly bloom the scented brier. The violet and blue bell ; And there to clasp her to my breast. And hear her love for me confest, O then ! what youth is half so blest, As I wi' Isabell? The city belle, the reigning toast, A fairer face, perhaps, may boast, But what is beauty's date at most ? Let age or sickness tell ; 2 G 338 A transient rainbow in the sky ; A tender flower that blooms to die ; A feeble noon-day butterfly, Cut oflf in evening snell : But Isabella's beauties rare, That hidden frae the vulgar stare. Will ever blossom rich and fair. As lasting as hersel'. Thou Power ! who rul'st thi? earth below. And met'st our snares o' joy and woe, The richest boon thou canst bestow, On me — is Isabell ; The warlike chief may fight for fame. The wily priest a mitre claim, The groveling grub for gear may scheme. To suit its sordid sel' ; Sic things are far beneath my care, For them I'll ne'er prefer a prayer ; But O ! gie me my lassie fair — My lovely Isabell. 339 HONEST MEN AND BONNIE LASSES. Am— Roy's Wife." Honest men and bonnie lasses, Honest men and bonnie lasses, Creation's pride, through Nature wide. Are honest men and bonnie lasses. Amid life's dreary wastes o' care, The cheerless gloom wad quite depress us, Did not such flow'rets blossom there. As honest men and bonnie lasses : Honest men and bonnie lasses. Honest men and bonnie lasses, The balm o' grief, the life o' life. Are honest men and bonnie lasses. The Midas-hearted wretch may starve, "While he his yellow heaps amasses, Be mine the joys that thrill each nerve, 'Mang honest men and bonnie lasses : 340 Honest men and bonnie lasses. Honest men and bonnie lasses, What joys below poor mortals owe To honest men and bonnie lasses. An honest man's a gem so rare, His price coald ne'er be paid by Caesar, But what's a lovely lassie fair ? A sparkling mine of richest treasure. Honest men and bonnie lasses, Honest men and bonnie lasses. What wealth on earth can boast the worth Of honest men and bonnie lasses ? Now, comrades, would you wish a toast ? Then haste and seize your sparkling glasses, I'll gie you Scotia's stay and boast — Her honest men and bonnie lasses. Honest men and bonnie lasses. Honest men and bonnie lasses ; Her slay and boast, frae coast to coast, Her honest men and bonnie lasses. 341 O KITTY, WHEN THAT FORM AND FACE. AiK — " Fe Banks and Braes." O KiTTT, when that form and face, In Nature's fairest mould were cast, To deck thee with each winning grace, She rifled all her treasures vast ; "WTiate'er was lovely, mild or fair, "Whate'er could move or melt the heart, Through sea or sky, through earth or air. To thee, sweet maid, she gave a part. But lest her fairest, favour'd work, By Time's rude hand should e'er be press'd, She caught a bright celestial spark. Pure from a flaming seraph's breast ; Of that, she formed a spotless mind, To animate a frame as fair. Then sent thee, loveliest of thy kind ! To soothe us in this vale of care. 2 G 2 342 ALANG KELVIN'S BANKS. Air — " Wounded Hussar," Alang Kelvin's banks on a dark wintry gloaming, "When thick heavy clouds had enshrouded the sky, Young Mary went wandering, her sad fate bemoaning, While heav'd her fair bosom wi' many a deep sigh ; The tears trickled down o'er her once-blooming cheek. Loud whistled the winds through her loose streaming hair, And aft she burst out, wi' a heart like to break, Alas ! my dear Allan, I'll ne'er see thee mair. Nae mair, ye lov'd banks, can I tread you wi' gladness. Nor gaze wi' delight on the stream gliding by, For nought now is mine but a bosom of sadness, A woe-washen cheek and a tear-streaming eye. Ye dark heavy clouds, moving slow thro' the air. More welcome your gloom than the canopy's glow ; For o'er my sad soul hangs the veil of despair. And my heart is surcharged wi' a deluge of woe. 343 Te scenes of past joy, ah ! how much now ye grieve me. Recalling those once happy hours to my mind ; O death ! wilt thou not shortly come and relieve me, And grant me that rest which the weary do find ! My sigKt is grown dim wi' the tears that I shed, The sun's cheering beams yield nae comfort to me ; Even hope, the last stay of the sufferer, is fled. And fled every joy, my dear Allan, with thee. By glory's false glare, lured awa' frae my bosom, To meet a brave foe, to the conflict he flew ; 'Twas then some dark spirit presaged I should lose him. And ah 1 I soon found its sad bodings too true ; For Allan soon fell with the brave gallant Moore, Where died many Britons, ill-fated though brave ; And now, a lone widow, his death I'll deplore, Till worn out with weeping I sink in my grave. 344 BAITH SroES O' THE PICTURE. AiH — " Willie was a Wanton Wag. Gin ye hae pence, ye will hae sense, Gin ye hae nought, ye will hae nane, When I had cash, I was thought gash, And my advice by a' was taen ; The rich and poor then thrang'd my door, The very dog cam' for his bane, My purse, my ha', were free to a'. And I was roosed by ilka ane. Guid freens, and true, I had enow, "Wha to oblige me aye were fain, Gin I but said, " I want your aid," I didna need to say't again. "Whene'er I spak', and tald my crack. Loud plaudits I was sure to gain ; For ilka word, howe'er absurd, "Was for imdoubted gospel taen. 345 At catch or glee, I bore the gree, For music's powers were a' my ain ; And when I sang, the hale house rang, "Wi' rapturous encores again. At pun or jest I shone the best, For nane had sic a fertile brain ; My jibes and jokes, my satire strokes, "W^ere — like my wine — a' kindly taen. But when I brak', and gaed to wrack. Ilk gowden prospect fairly gane. My judgment wi' my wealth did flee, And a' my sense was frae me taen ; Nor rich, nor poor, cam' near my door. My freens a' vanished ane by ane ; Nor word, nor crack, was worth a plack. For I was listened to by nane. My jests and wit, they wadna hit, My singing met wi' cauld disdain. The distant look, or dry rebuke. Was a' that e'er I could obtain. 346 But, thanks to Gude, I've fortitude, Adversity's sour cup to drain, And ae true freen, as e'er was seen, And that's the Dog that shares my bane. WHEN GLOAMIN' SPREADS HER MANTLE GREY. Air — " Langsyne beside yon Woodland Burn. " When gloamin' spreads her mantle grey, O'er ilka hill and valley. And little lambs nae langer play, Upon the lea sae gaily. Then through the wood aboon the mill, Wi' willing steps I aften steal, Wi' my dear lad I loe sae weel, My constant, loving Willie. While wandering through our shaded walks, What dear delight I feel aye, To hear him as he fondly talks, Avow his love sae freely ; M 347 Or when our arms we fondly link, And stray by Kelvin's grassy brink, What pure delicious joys I drink, Pour'd frae the lips o' "Willie. How sweet the mavis sings at e'en, When a' is hush'd sae stilly ; How sweet his melting mellow strain Comes echoing down the valley ; How sweet to breathe the scented gale, That lightly skiffs yon clover vale, B^t sweeter far the melting tale, And balmy breath o' Willie. The rose blooms on his cheek sae smooth, Upon his brow the lily. His bosom is the seat of truth. Which love and honour fill aye. His manly look and gracefu' form, Might ony lassie's bosom warm ; But native worth, O I that's the charm That binds mc to my Willie. 348 Our squire, to lure me, tries ilk art, "Wi' a' his airs sae silly, But never will he move the heart. That beats alone for "Willie ; For ere to-morrow's sun decline, The priest our willing hands will join, And mak' the dear, dear laddie mine, My life, my joy, my "Willie. O NANCY. O Nancf ! dear Nancy, my young lovely blossom, Sweet essence of beauty and virtue combined, "What bliss thus to clasp thee to this beating bosom, And meet thy sweet glances so lovingly kind. Those dark ebon tresses that shade thy white forehead, That black beaming eye so expressively bright. That innocent blush on thy soft cheek so pure red, — These fill my fond bosom with sweetest delight. 349 O come let iis wander, my dear lovely treasure, Down by yon green planting of tall waving pines, While yonder bright star in the pure cloudless azure. Like thee sheds its lustre, and peerlessly shines ; The eve's mild and gentle, the dew's saftly fa'ing, The fragrance comes sweet frae yon full-blossom'd thorn. And hark ! from afar, how the bugle is blawing, "While woods, rocks and valleys their echoes return. How meet, my dear Nancy, is this gentle season. For two love-knit beings with souls void of art. To breathe out their feelings so tenderly pleasing. And taste the sweet raptures true love can impart : And HOW, dearest maid, since our hearts are united In love — purest blessing by mortals enjoyed. Its ties let us cherish, through life undivided, Unaltered by changes, by time undestroyed. 2 a 350 LINES WKITTEN ON BOARD THE NEW STEAMER ROBERT BURNS. 1838. O ! WHY has Scotia's darling Child of Song Neglected been, by Scotia's sons so long, That not, till now, has vessel borne his name, Though standing foremost on the roll of Fame ? Whilst Byron, Scott, James Watt, and Henry Bell, Bruce, Wallace, Washington, and William Tell, With many more, whose deeds most proudly shone, Leaving a glory after they were gone. Have often, to perpetuate their fame. Had ships and monuments stamp'd with their name. But truce with sad repining o'er the past. The tardy tribute has been paid at last. And lo ! the eye with gratulation turns Upon the stately steamer, " Robert Burns." The man, whose name is Scotland's boast and pride, Has found at last a namesake on the Clyde ; 351 The rustic Bard, whose hands once held the plough, His statue decks at last the vessel's prow, "While Cutty-sark, and Shanter's mare so fleet. Are seen swift flying at the Poet's feet. Survey this splendid steamer round and round, Her match on water scarcely will be found. So tightly built, so tidy and so trim, The " Robert Burns !" she's worthy, sure, of him ; For as among the Bards, the first was he. Among the Steamers, she the first will be. Go to her cabin — view the scenery there, So well depicted by the " Bard of Ayr;" Go, view the " Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon," "Kirk AUoway," " Auld Ayr," the distant Troon, " Barskimming." and the " Catrine Woods sae Green,' The fairy-haunted grounds around " Colzean ;" " The Castle o' Montgomerie," near whose towers Burns and his " Mary" spent such "golden hours." The " toil worn Cottar" at his snug fire-side, His wife and bairns, his comfort, joy and pride ; 352 And honest auld " John Anderson, my jo," Wi' •' lyart haffets" white as driven snow. Listening wi' rapture to his kind gudewife. Singing the joys o' their past blameless life. The new'rday morning, and the hallowe'en, The weel rang'd luggies — empty, foul and clean ; The gripping factor, wi' his saucy " snash," Railing at " tenant bodies scant o' cash." The noble Bruce, on Bannock's bloody plain. Resolved his Coantry's freedom to regain : Full in the front, with battle-axe in hand. Cheering to victory his gallant band. These scenes, and many more as graphic still. Which show the Poet's and the Painter's skill, Around the cabin gracefully are placed, Proving to all the Owner's classic taste. Success, then, to the namesake of our Bard, Long may she merit each true Scot's regard ; May he " who stills the winds and waves" still keep His arm around her on the stormy deep. And may each trip she takes yield good returns To all connected with the " Robert Burns." 353 SONG, Air — " Within a mile of Edinburgh Town." 'TwAS morn — and the lambs on the green hilloL-ks played, The laverock sang sweetly on high, The dew-draps bespangled ilk green spiky blade, And the woods rang wi' music and joy ; "When young Patie down the vale Met fair Kitty wi' her pail. He clasp'd her hand and blythely speered, " Dear lassie, where to now ?" " A wee bit down the glen," quo' she, " To milk our bruckit cow." " O Kitty ! I've lo'ed you this towmond an' mair, (And wha lo'es na you canna see,) There's nane on our plains half sae lovely and fair, No ; — nane half sae lovely to me : Will you come, dear lass, at een, Up the burnie's bank sae green ? 2 H 2 354 And there, beneath the beechen shade, You'll meet a lover true." "Na, na," she cried, " I canna come At e'en to meet wi' you. " My mither will flyte and my father will ban, Gin here meikle langer I stay, Come cease wi' your wheezin, and let gae my han'. It's daft like at this time o' day." "Dearest lassie, ere ye gang, Tell me shall we meet ere lang, Come say't an' seal't wi' ae sweet smack O' that enticing mou' ;" " Haud aff," she cried, " nor think that I Was made for sport, to you." " Then fareweel, proud lassie, for since ye're sae shy, Nae langer I'll press you to bide ; E'en show aff your airs, toss your head and look high. Your beauty demands a' your pride ; I may find some ither where, Ane mair kind, although less fair." 355 He turned to gang— she laughing cried, " Stop, lad, I've ta en the rue, Come back and set the tryst wi' me, And I will meet wi' you." "THE BILL, THE WHOLE BILL, AND NOTHING BUT THE BILL." Peace, peace ! Johnny Bull, what the deuce are you growling at ? Can't you keep gnawing yoar bone and be still ? Sandy and Paddy, too, what are you howling at ? Have you not all of you now got your will ? Did you not lately most loudly vociferate — Loudly as Boreas on cold wintry hill — Threatening your old whippers-in at so stiff a rate That they were fain just to give you your " Bill ?" The Bill, the whole Bill, aye, and nought but the Bill you'd have, Thinking 'twould shield you from all future ill, Why then '.—what the deuce is it more that you still would havH ? • Shame i to ask anything more than your Bill. 356 You thought that, at once, of your burdens 'twould lighten you, Give you fine raiment and victuals your fill ; Nay more — to the rank of fine gentlemen heighten you ; Well — have not these things been done by your Bill ? Say, has it not proven a cure that is Radical ? A grand panacea for each human ill ? A remedy, far beyond any thing medical ? Has not perfection been stamp'd on your Bill ? The bantling's your own, take and nurse it most tenderly, Don't use it rudely, the poor thing to kill ; And though, for a time, it should serve you but slenderly, Years may give vigour and strength to your Bill. But if with its years no improvements grow visible ; If it still fail your desires to fulfil ; Exciting your enemies' faculties risible. Even then don't desert it, 'tis still your own Bill. But O ! should it e'er try some damn'd whiggish trick, alas ! Such as coercing you 'gainst your own will. To Muscovy send it, a present to Nicholas, Make him adopt it — and get a New Bill. 357 SIR BENJAMIN BUFFSTKAP.' Air— "B/'ic^ Jock." Have you heard of Sir Benjamin Butfstrap, the Broad, That knight of the razor so outre and odd— The barbarous barber of Barrowfield Bar? Sure a sharper short shaver has seldom been seen, With his buffstrap so black and his blades all so keen, And his suds in his soap-box as white as the snow — How closely the crop of the chin he can mow ! The barbarous barber at Barrowfield Bar. Though a barbarous barber Sir Benjamin be, yet, like his neighbour shaver, no Savage* is he. The barbarous barber at Barrowfield Bar ; For all his barbarities tend but to smooth The wrinkles of age down to dimples of youth, While the blood of his victims he studiously spares. And only cuts off stiff rebellious hairs — The barbarous barber of Barrowfield Bar. 358 This barbarous barber's a wonderful wight, For his breadth is exactly the length of his height !— The barbarous barber of Barrowfield Bar ; And his broad bluffy face is so pregnant with glee, And his wild wit comes flashing so fearless and free, That to see and to hear him, I'm certain would make A whole congregation of Quakers' sides ache — The barbarous barber at Barrowfield Bar. 'Tis said, too, that he can disguise so the truth, As to give to old age the resemblance of youth — The barbarous barber at Barrowfield Bar ; Can make the dark countenance lively and fair, And give the bald pate an exuberance of hair ; Nay, more — by the help of his combs and his curls Can transform mouldy maids into gay giddy girls — The barbarous barber at Barrowfield Bar. Long may this sharp shaver successfully shave The chin of the jjist man — the cheek of the knave — This barbarous barber at Barrowfield Bar; But while light sweeps his hand o'er the honest man's chin. 359 Ne'er causing wry faces, nor scratching the skin, May the cheek of the villain severely be stung By the rough rugged razor, or keen cutting tongue, Of the barbarous barber at Barrowfield Bar. NOTES. ' This clever, little, facetious, bustling personage, is a particular friend of the author; is considered a great accession to every social party — and is as ready at repartee as the celebrated Jemmy Wright. He still resides at Barrowfield Bar, Bridgeton — is barber, tollman, spirit-dealer, farmer of ladle dues, draff and sand con- tractor, punster and poet. "Barbarous" is only a play upon the word barber, and is by no means intended to convey the idea that the barber is a rude barbarian. ' Savage is the name of a neighbour strap. 361 ADDITIONAL NOTES. COLIN DULAP. Page 45. The late Colin Dunlop was a princip.il partner in the Clyde Iron Work Company, and, in his character as a promoter of education, may be said to have shed light on his country, as his works enlightened the district in which they are situated. Like the Carron, the Clyde Iron Works, especially on dark nights before rain, throw up a volume of light which is seen for many miles around, and, to farmers and country people, is as sure an indication of a change of weather as a " bruch about the moon." The Author cannot let this opportunity pass without recording his veneration for the late !\Ir Dunlop ; a steady, unflinching ad- vocate of liberal principles during a long period, when the avowal of these subjected the individual to persecution and reproach. — He was a kind master, and a gentleman whose benevolence was almost universal. HIGHLAND POLITICIANS. Page G4. " Tei/llpnait mij house to please t(i laird." Perhaps this pas- sage can be Ijest explained by those Lairds and Ladies in the County of Sutherland, and elsewhere, on whose estates some years ago depopulation and expatriation were carried on to such an ex- tent as would have gladdened the heart of a very Malthus. Under this exterminating system hundreds of poor families were driven by force and violence from the homes which their fathers had oc- cupied for centuries, and all to make room for a few large sheep J'arms. 362 BAULDY BUCHANAN. Page 119. It has often been asked, who is " Bauldy Buchanan ?" Really I cannot tell ; he is purely a child of the imagination. MAGNIFICENT TOM. Page 138. " Magnificent Tom" is the celebrated Thomas L. Hart, well- known in and ai'ound Glasgow, for his versatile powers in acting and reciting, his peculiarities, and eccentricities. PETER CORNCLIPS. Page 145. " Peter Cornclips" now sleeps with his fathers— he was one of those airy architects who are always forming plans of aggrandize- ment, fated never to be realized. He was also a great dreamer of dreams, and a seer of visions, some natural and some supernatu- ral; but, withal, he was a man of social ha'iits, who could take off his glass, tell his story, or sing his song with any of his associates. He was a calico-printer to business, and wrought many years in Barrowfield Printfield, where the author first became acquainted with him. THE END. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 7/V 000 368 477 6