The cudgel in my nieve did shake, uncovering hideous moan grave wall, buzzing dreary elder-trees one lancing rush sound fist Each bristled hair stood like a stake, When wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick-quaick, frightful, hoarse Amang the springs, Awa ye squattered, like a drake, On whistling wings. Let warlocks grim, and withered hags, Tell how wi' you, on ragweed nags, They skim the muirs and dizzy crags, And in kirkyards renew their leagues Thence countra wives, wi' toil and pain, May plunge and plunge the kirn in vain; By witching skill Auttered ragwort over excavated country churn taken And dawtit, twal-pint Hawkio's gaen petted, twelve, become As yell's the bill. * When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord, And float the jinglin' icy boord, And 'nighted travellers are allured And aft your moss-traversing spunkies Till in some miry slough he sunk is, When mason's mystic word and grip, The youngest brother ye wad whip Langsyne, in Eden's bonny yard, Sweet on the fragrant flowery swaird, Then you, yo auld sneck-drawing dog! And played on man a cursed brogue, And gied the infant warld a shog, 'Maist ruined a'. D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz, And sklented on the man of Uzz milkless, bull thaws water-spirits Will o' the Wisp blazing more sward old stealthy trick gave, shake [hair smoked clothes, withered dirty glanced 6.19 49 beat, Lowland, [Highland know But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin', But fare-you-weel, auld Nickic-ben 1 I'm wae to think upo' yon den, suddenly perhaps TO JAMES SMITH. "Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul! DEAR Smith, the slcc'est, paukie thief, For me, I swear by sun and moon, And every ither pair that's done, That auld capricious carlin, Nature, She's turned you aff, a human creature And in her freaks, on every feature Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme, My barmie noddle's working prime, My fancy yerkit up sublime Wi' hasty summon: Hae ye a leisure-moment's time To hear what's comin'! Some rhyme a neighbour's name to lash; Some rhyme (vain thought !) for needfu' cash sly, wheedling robbery spell proof twinkles shoes going other more taken woman stinted yeasty fermented For me, an aim I never fash- The star that rules my luckless lot, Has blest me wi' a random shot This while my notion's ta'en a sklent, "There's ither poets much your betters, Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, Hae thought they had insured their debtors Now moths deform in shapeless tatters Then farewell hopes o' laurel-boughs To garland my poetic brows! Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs Are whistling thrang, And teach the lanely heights and howes I'll wander on, with tentless heed How never-halting moments speed, I'll lay me with the inglorious dead, But why o' death begin a tale? Just now we're living sound and hale, And large before enjoyment's gale, This life, sae far's I understand, Where pleasure is the magic wand, That, wielded right, Maks hours like minutes, hand-in-hand The magic wand then let us wield; For, ance that five-and-forty's speel'd wrinkled face. Comes hostin, hirplin' owre the field, Wi' creepin' pace. 51 coughing. limping [o'er twilight When ance life's day draws near the gloamin', And fareweel cheerfu' tankards foamir. And fareweel dear, deluding woman! Oh, Life! how pleasant in thy morning, Like schoolboys, at the expected warning, We wander there, we wander here, And though the puny wound appear, Some, lucky, find a flowery spot, For which they never toiled or swat; But care or pain; And, haply, eye the barren hut With high disdain. With steady aim some Fortune chase; Keen Hope does every sinew brace; Through fair, through foul, they urge the race, And seize the prey: Then cannie, in some cozie place, They close the day. And others, like your humble servan', Poor wights! nac rules nor roads observin'; To right or left, eternal swervin', They zig-zag on; Till, curst with age, obscure and starvin', They aften groan. Alas! what bitter toil and straining- But truce with peevish, poor complaining! E'en let her gang! Beneath what light she has remaining, Let's sing our sang. My pen I here fling to the door, And kneel, "Ye Powers," and warm implore, In all her climes, Grant me but this, I ask no more, without quietly, saug go aourdance D |