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view him with the severity of letter. Whyles, on the strong-winged tempeft Ayin,
'Tirlan the kirks; ed criticism, judge him by the fastidious rules of art, will discover Whyles, in the human bosom pryin,
Unseen thou lurks. that he has not the doric fimplicity
I've heard my rev'rend graunie say, of Ramsay, nor the brilliant imagi« In lanely glen: ye like to ftray; nation of Ferguson; but to those Or where auld ruin’d castles, gray, who admire the exertions of untu
Nod to the moon, tored fancy, and are blind to many Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way,
Wi' eldritch croon. faults for the sake of numberless beauties, his poems will afford lin
When twilight did my graunie summon,
To say her pray'rs, doufe, honest woman! gular gratification.
His observa- Aft 'yont the dyke she's heard you bum. tions on human characters are acute and sagacions, and his defcriptions are
Wi eerie drone; lively and just. Of rustic pleasantry Or; tuftling, thro' the boortries coman
Wi' heavy gróan. he has a rich fund; and fome of his softer scenes are touched with inimi. The Stars Thot down wi klentan light,
Ae dreary, windy, winter night, table delicacy. He seems to be a Wi' you, myfel, 1 gat a fright, boon companion, and often startles us
Ayont the lough; with a dash of libertinism, which Ye, like a rafb-buss, stood in fight
waving sugh. will keep some readers at a distance. Some of his subjects are serious, but Each briftid hair stood like a stake,
The cudgel in my nieve did shake, those of the humorous kind are the When wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick, quaick, beft. . It is not meant, however, to
Amang the springs, enter into a minute investigation of Awa ye squatter'd like a drake
On whistling wings. his merits, as the copious extracts we have fubjoined will enable our
Let warlocks grim, an wither'd bags,
Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags, readers to judge for themselves. The They skim thé muirs an' dizzy crage Character Horace gives to Osellus
Wi' wicked speed; is particularly applicable to him. And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,
Owre howeket dead. Rufticus abnormis sapiens, craffaque Mi
Thence, countra wives, wi' toil an' pain, Address to the Dell.
May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain; O Prince, O chief of many throned pow'rs,
For oh! the yellow treasure's taen
By witching kill, That led thembattl’i Seraphim to war
An' dawttet, twal-pint bawkie's gane
As yell's the bill.
Thence mystic knots mak
When the best wark-lume i' the house,
By cantraip wit,
Is instant made no worth a louse
Just at thc bít. Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
When thowes diffolve the snawy hoord, An' let poor damned bodies bee;
An' float the jinglan icy boord, I'm sure Ima' pleasure it can gie,
Ev'n to a deil,
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord
By your direction,
To their defruction
An' aft your moss-traversingspunkies An' tho' yon lowar beugb's thy hame,
ay Decoy the wight that late ana drunk is :
The bleezan curft, mischievejus monkies Thou travels far;
Delude his eyes, An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame, Nor blate nor scaur. Till in some miry flough he: funk is,
Ne'er mair to risc. Whyles, ranging like a roaran lion, When Mason's mystic word an' grip, For prey, a' holes an' coppers tryin; 14 forms an' tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat, your rage maun stop; I to the crambo-jingle fell,
Tho' rude an' rough ; The youngest brother ye wad whip
Yet crooning to a body's fel
Does weel enough Lang fyne, in Eden's bonie yard,
I am nae poet in a sense,
Yet, what the matter?
I jingle at her. Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog!
Your critic folk may cock their nose, Ye came to paradise incog,
And say, ' How can you e'er propose, An' play'd on man a cursed brogue,
• You wha ken hardly verse frae profe, (Black be your fa’!)
• To mak a fang?" An' gicd the infant warld a fog,
But by your leaves, my learned foes, 'Maist ruin'da'.
Ye're maybe wrang. D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz,
What's a' yoar jargon o' your schools, Wi' reeket duds, an' reeftet gizz,
Your Lacin names for horns an' stools; Ye did present your smoutie phiz
If honeft Nature made you fools, 'Mang better folk,
What fáirs your grammars? An' sklented on the man of Uzz
Ye'd better taen up spades and foools,
Or knappin bammers.
A set o' dull, conceited hashes,
Confuse their brains in college-classes!
Wi' bitter claw, They gang in stirks, and come out asses, An' lows'd his ill-tongu'd wicked scawl,
Plain truth to speak;
By dint o' Greek!
Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire,
Down to this time, Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire Wad ding a' Lallan tongue, or Erse,
At pleugh or cart, In prose or rhyme. My muse, tho' hamely in attire, An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkan,
May touch the heart. A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin, Some luckless hour will send him linkan,
From bis Description of a Sermon in the
TERE stands a Med to fend the show'rog But fare-ye-weel, auld Nickie-ben; Owad ye tak a thought an'men'!
There, racer Jess, an' twathree wh-ses, Ye aiblins might I dinna kena
Are blinkan at the entry.
Still hae a fake Here sits a raw o'tittlan jads,
Wi' heaving breasts an' bare neck;
Blackguarding frae K- -ck
For fun this day. sert the poems of Hallow-E'en, The Cote
Apother fighs an' prays :
sits an ele&i swatch,
On that, a set o chaps, at watch,
To cbairs that day.
Vide Milton, book 6th.
Poems; by Robert Barho.
An' monie lads an' laffes fates O happy is that man, an' bleft!
Are there that night decided : Nae wonder that it pride him!
Some kindle, couthie, lide by side, Whase ain dear lafs, that he likes best, An'burn thegither trimbly; Comes clinkan down befide him!
Some start awa wi' faucy pride, Wi' arm repos'd on the chair-back,
An' jump out owrc the chimnie He sweetly does compose him ;
Fu' high that night. Which, by degrees, flips round her neck,
Jean lips in twa wi' tentie e'c;
But this is Jook, an' this is me,
She says in to hersel: Till a' the hills are rairan,
He blecz'd owre her, and the owre him, An' echos back return the shouts;
As they wad never mair part, Black is na spairan;
Till, fuff! he started up the lum, His piercing words, like Highlan (words, An' Jean had e'en a fair heart Divide the joints an' marrow;
To fee't that night. His talk o'h-ll, where devils dwell,
Wec Jenny to her graunie says,
I'll eat the apple t at the glass,
• I gat frae uncle Johnie: Fill'd fou o' lowan brunftane,
She fuff't her pipe wi' fic a lunt, Whase raging flame, an' scorching heat, In wrath she was fae vap'rin, Wad melt the hardest whun-tane!
She notic't na an aizle brunt The balf asleep start up wi' fear,
Her braw new worset apron An' think they hear it 'roaran,
Out thro' that night. When presently it does appear,
IV, 'Twas but fome neebos fnoran
• Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
As seek the foul thief onic place,
For him to spac your fortune : Begins to jow an' croon;
Nac doubt but ye may get a hight! Some swagger hame the best they dow,
Great cause ye hae to fear it ; Some wait the afternoon.
For monie a ane has gotten a fright, At flaps the billies halt a blink,
An' liv'd an* di'd dclecret, Till Jaffes strip their fhoon :
On sac a night.' Wi' faith an' bope, an' love an' drink,
Then up gat fechtan Jamie Fleck,
That he could faw bemp-feed a peck;
For it was a' hut nonfense. O' finners and o' laffes !
The auld guidman raught down the pock, Their hearts o' ftane, gin night are gane,
An' out a handfu' gicd him; As faft as ony flesh is.
Syne bad him flip frae 'mang the folk, There's some are fou o' love divine;
Sometime when nae ane see'd him, There's some are fou o' brandy ;
An' try't that night An' monie jobs that day begin,
He marches thro' amang the stacks,
The graip be for a barrow taks,
An' haurls at his curpan :
And ev'ry now an' then, he fays,
• Hemp-seed I saw thee; THE
An' her that is to be my lass,
Come after me an' draw thee
As fact this night.,
* Shakespeare's Hamlet.
+ Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut as they lay them in the fire; and according as they burn quietly together or Itart from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be.
Take a candle and go alone to a looking-glass: eat an apple before it, and some traditions fay you should comb your hair all the time: the face of your conjugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.
He takes a swirlie auld moss-oak He whiti'd up lord Lenox' march,
For some black, groufome carlin ; To keep his courage cheary;
An' loot'a winze, an' drew a stroke, Altho' his hair began to arch,
Till skin in blypes cam haurlin He was fae fley'd an eerie :
Aff's nicres that night, Till presently he hears a squeak,
Xll, An' then a granc an' gruntle ;
A wanton widow Leezie was, He by his howther gac a keek,
As cantie as a kittlen ;
But och! that night, amang the Shaws,
She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn,
An' owre the hill gaed scrieven, In dreadfu' defperation !
Whare three lairds lan's met at a búrn t, An' young an' auld come rinnan out,
To dip her left farkasleeve in, An' hear the fad narration :
Was bent that night. He swore 'twas hilchan Jean M!Crawy.
XIII. Or crouchie Merran Humphie,
Whiles owre a linn the burnie plays, Till stop! Me trotted thro' them a';
As thro' the glen it wimplit;
Whyles round a racky scar it (trays;
Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle;
Below the spreading hazle
Uniseen that night, She gies the herd a pickle nits,
XIV. An twa red cheeket apples,
Amang the brachens, on the brae, To watch, while for the barn she sets,
Between her an' the moon,
7 In hopes to see Tam Kipples
The deil, or else an outler quey,
Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool;
Near lav'rock-height she jumpet, An'owre the threshold ventures;
But milt a fit, an' in the pool But first on Sawnie gies à ca;'
Put'owre the lugs fhe plumpet, Syne bauldly in fe enters.
Wi'a plunge that night, A ratton rattl'd up the wa,',
The luggies & three are ranged ;
And ev'ry time great care is taen,
Auld uncle Jobn, wha wedlock's joys
Sin Mar's-year did defire, They hecht him fome finc braw ane; Because he gat
the toom difh thrice, It chanc'd the fack he faddom't thrice t.
He heav'd them on the fire , Was timmer-prope for-thrawin:
In wrath that nights * This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone. You go to the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if pollible; for there is danger that the being, about to appear, may fut the doors, and do you fome mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country-dialect, we call a wecht, and go through all the attitudes of Jetting down corn against the wind. Repeat it thrce times; and the third time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door and out at the other, having both the figure in question and the appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life.
+ Take an opportunity. of going, unnoticed, to a bearəftack, and Fathom it three times round. The lait fathon of the lalt time you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.
# You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a fouth running fpring or rivulet, where three lairds lands meet,' and dip your left shirt-leeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet Deeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some time'near midnight an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand obje& in qneftion, will come and turn the Deeve, as if to dry the other side of it.
+ Take three dishes ; put clean water in one, foul water in another, and leave the third empty: blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are rawged; he (or the) dips the left hand : if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a mạid : if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty diska, it foretels, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.