Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

AULD BRIG.

O ye, my dear-remember'd, ancient yealings,
Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings!
Ye worthy Proveses, an' mony a Bailie,
Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil aye;
Ye dainty Deacons, an' ye douce Conveeners,
To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners!
Ye godly Councils wha hae blest this town;
Ye godly Brethren o' the sacred gown,
Wha meekly gie your hurdies to the smiters;
And (what would now be strange) ye godly Writers:
A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon the broo,
Were ye but here, what would ye say or do!
How would your spirits groan in deep vexation,
To see each melancholy alteration;

And agonizing, curse the time and place
When ye begat the base degen'rate race!

Nae langer rev'rend men, their country's glory,

In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid story;
Nae langer thrifty citizens, an' douce,

Meet owre a pint, or in the Council-house;

But staumrel, corky-headed, graceless Gentry,

The herryment and ruin of the country;

Men, three-parts made by tailors and by barbers,

150

160

170

Wha waste your weel-hain'd gear on damn'd new brigs and harbours!

NEW BRIG.

Now haud you there! for faith ye've said enough,
And muckle mair than ye can mak to through :
As for your Priesthood, I shall say but little,
Corbies and Clergy are a shot right kittle;
But, under favour o' your langer beard,
Abuse o' Magistrates might weel be spar'd;
To liken them to your auld-warld squad,
I must needs say, comparisons are odd.

In Ayr, wag-wits nae mair can have a handle
To mouth a Citizen,' a term o' scandal ;
Nae mair the Council waddles down the street,
In all the pomp of ignorant conceit;

180

Men wha grew wise priggin' owre hops an' raisins,
Or gather'd liberal views in bonds and seisins.
If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp,
Had shor'd them wi' a glimmer of his lamp,

And would to Common-sense for once betray'd them, 190
Plain dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them.

WHAT farther clishmaclaver might been said, What bloody wars, if Sprites had blood to shed, No man can tell; but all before their sight A fairy train appear'd in order bright; Adown the glittering stream they featly danc'd ; Bright to the moon their various dresses glanc'd: They footed o'er the watery glass so neat, The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet; While arts of Minstrelsy among them rung, And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung. O had M'Lauchlan, thairm-inspiring sage, Been there to hear this heavenly band engage, When thro' his dear strathspeys they bore with Highland rage, Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs, The lover's raptur'd joys or bleeding cares, How would his Highland lug been nobler fired,

200

And ev'n his matchless hand with finer touch inspired!
No guess could tell what instrument appear'd,
But all the soul of Music's self was heard;
Harmonious concert rung in every part,

While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart.
The Genius of the Stream in front appears,

A venerable Chief, advanced in years;
His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd,
His manly leg with garter-tangle bound.
Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring,
Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring;
Then, crown'd with flow'ry hay, came Rural Joy,
And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye;
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn wreath'd with nodding corn;
Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show,
By Hospitality with cloudless brow;

Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride,
From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide;

210

220

Benevolence, with mild benignant air,

A female form, came from the towers of Stair:
Learning and Worth in equal measures trode
From simple Catrine, their long-loved abode;

Last, white-robed Peace, crown'd with a hazel wreath,
To rustic Agriculture did bequeath

The broken iron instruments of death:

230

At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling wrath.

THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST.

THE sun had closed the winter day,
The curlers quat their roarin' play,
An' hunger'd maukin taen her way
To kail-yards green,

While faithless snaws ilk step betray
Where she has been.

The thresher's weary flingin'-tree
The lee-lang day had tirèd me;

And when the day had clos'd his e'e,
Far i' the west,

Ben the spence, right pensivelie,
I gaed to rest.

There lanely by the ingle-cheek
I sat and eyed the spewing reek,
That fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek,
The auld clay biggin';
An' heard the restless rattons squeak
About the riggin'.

All in this mottie misty clime,
I backward mused on wasted time,
How I had spent my youthfu' prime,
An' done nae-thing,

But stringin' blethers up in rhyme,
For fools to sing.

ΙΟ

20

Had I to guid advice but harkit,
I might, by this, hae led a market,
Or strutted in a bank, and clarkit
My cash-account:

While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit,
Is a' th' amount.

I started, mutt'ring 'blockhead! coof!'
And heaved on high my waukit loof,
To swear by a' yon starry roof,

Or some rash aith,

That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof
Till my last breath-

When click! the string the snick did draw;
An' jee! the door gaed to the wa';

And by my ingle-lowe I saw,

Now bleezin' bright,

A tight outlandish hizzie, braw,

Come full in sight.

Ye need na doubt I held my whisht;
The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht;

I glowr'd as eerie 's I'd been dusht

In some wild glen;

When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht,
An' stepped ben.

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs

Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows;

I took her for some Scottish Muse

By that same token;

And come to stop these reckless vows,
Would soon been broken.

A hare-brain'd, sentimental trace,
Was strongly marked in her face;

A wildly-witty rustic grace

Shone full upon her;

Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space,

Beam'd keen with honour.

3309

40

50

бо

Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen,
Till half a leg was scrimply seen;
An' such a leg! my bonnie Jean

Could only peer it;

Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and clean,
Nane else came near it.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue,
My gazing wonder chiefly drew;

Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw
A lustre grand;

And seem'd to my astonish'd view
A well-known land.

Here rivers in the sea were lost;
There mountains to the skies were tost:
Here tumbling billows mark'd the coast
With surging foam;

There, distant shone Art's lofty boast,
The lordly dome.

Here Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods;

There well-fed Irwine stately thuds;

Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods,

On to the shore

And many a lesser torrent scuds,
With seeming roar.

Low in a sandy valley spread,

An ancient borough rear'd her head;

Still, as in Scottish story read,

She boasts a race,

To ev'ry nobler virtue bred,

And polish'd grace.

By stately tower or palace fair,

Or ruins pendent in the air,

Bold stems of heroes, here and there,

I could discern;

Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare,
With feature stern.

70

80

90

« ZurückWeiter »