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Even Satan glowr'd, and fidged fu' fain,
An' hotch'd an' blew wi' might an' main;
Till first ae caper, syne anither,
Tam tint his reason a'thegither,
An' roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!"
An' in an instant a' was dark:

An' scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion sallied.
As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,
When plunderin' herds assail their byke;
As open pussie's mortal foes
When, pop! she starts before their nose;
As eager runs the market-crowd,
When "Catch the thief! "resounds aloud;
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,

ADDRESS TO THE DEIL.

O Prince! O Chief of many throned Pow.
ers,

That led th' embattled Seraphim to war.
MILTON.

O THOU! Whatever title suit thee,
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,
Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie,
Closed under hatches,

Spairges 3 about the brunstane cootie,
To scaud poor wretches!
Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
An' let poor dammèd bodies be:
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,
E'en to a deil,

Wi' mony an eldritch screech and hollow. To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'lt get thy fairin'!
In Hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'!
Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
An' win the key-stane of the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they darena cross.
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
An' flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie's mettle, -
Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
An' left poor Maggie scarce a stump!

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
Whene'er to drink you are inclined,
Or cutty sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear;
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.1

9 It is a well-known fact, that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with bogles, whatever danger may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back. -BURNS.

1 Upon this poem Sir Walter Scott has the following: "In the inimitable tale of Tam o' Shanter, Burns has left us sufficient evidence of his ability to combine the ludicrous with the awful. No poet, with the exception of Shakespeare, ever pos

An' hear us squeel!

Great is thy power, an' great thy fame;
Far kenn'd and noted is thy name:
An', tho' yon lowin' heugh's thy hame,
Thou travels far;

An', faith! thou's neither lag nor lame,
Nor blate nor scaur.

Whyles, ranging like a roarin' lion,
For prey a' holes an' corners tryin';
Whyles on the strong-wing'd tempest
Tirlin the kirks;
[flyin',

Whyles in the human bosom pryin',
Unseen thou lurks.

sessed the power of exciting the most va ried and discordant emotions with such rapid transitions." To this I must add a choice bit from Campbell: "Burns has given the elixir of life to his native dialect. The Scottish Tam o' Shanter will be read as long as any production of the same century. The impression of his genius is deep and universal. Into Tam o'Shanter he has poured the whole witchery of song,-humorous, gay, gloomy, terrific and sublime."

2 It was, I think, in the Winter of 1784, as we were going with carts for coals to the family fire, that Robert first repeated to me the Address to the Deil. The curious idea of such an address was suggested to him by running over in his mind the many ludicrous accounts and representations we have from various quarters of this august personage.-GILBERT BURNS.

3 We see the Deil standing at a large boiling vat, with something like a golfbat, striking the liquid this way and that way aslant, with all his might, making it fiy through the whole apartment, while the inmates are winking and holding up their arms to defend their faces. This is pre cisely the idea conveyed by spairges. THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

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By witching skill;

An' dawtit, twal-pint hawkie's gaen
As yell's the bill.4

When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
An' float the jinglin' icy-boord,
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord
By your direction,

An' 'nighted travellers are allured
To their destruction.

An' aft your moss-travérsing spunkies
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is:

Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne'er mair to rise.

When masons' mystic word an' grip
In storms an' tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,
Or, strange to tell!

The youngest brother ye wad whip
Aff straught to Hell!

Lang syne, in Eden's bonnie yard,
When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd,
An' all the soul of love they shared,
The raptured hour,

Sweet on the fragrant, flowery sward,
In shady bower:.

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog!
Ye came to Paradise incog.,

An' play'd on man a cursèd brogue,
(Black be your fa' !)

An' gied the infant warld a shog,
'Maist ruin'd a'.

D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz,
Wi' reekit duds an' reestit gizz,
Ye did present you smoutie phiz
'Mang better folk,

An' sklented on the man of Uz
Your spitefu' joke?

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall.
An' brak him out o' house an' halk
While scabs an' blotches did him gak
Wi' bitter claw,

An' lows'd his ill-tongued, wicked so
Was warst ava?

But a' your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares an' fechtin' fierce,
Sin' that day Michael did you pierce,
Down to this time,

Wad ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse,
In prose or rhyme.

An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin'
A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin';
Some luckless hour will send him linkin'
To your black pit;

The bleezin', curst, mischievous monkeys But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin',

Delude his eyes,

4 As milkless as the bull.-Hawkie is the favourite cow.-A Scottish pint equals two English quarts; so that a twal-pint cow is a cow that gives twentyfour quarts of milk a day.

An' cheat you yet.

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!
O, wad ye tak' a thought an' men',

5 Alluding to the representation given in Paradise Lost, Book vi.

Ye aiblins might-I dinna ken-
Still hae a stake:

I'm wae to think upo' yon den,
Ev'n for your sake! 6

THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST.7

THE Sun had closed the winter day,
The curlers quat their roaring play,8
An' hunger'd maukin ta'en her way
To kail-yards green,

While faithless snaws ilk step betray
Whare she has been.

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

And whan the day had closed his e'e,
Far i' the West,

Ben i' 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 naething,

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

Had I to guid advice but harkit,
I might, by this, hae led a market,
Or strutted in a bank an' clarkit

My cash-account:

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Now bleezin' bright,

A tight, outlandish hizzie, braw,
Come full in sight.

Ye need na doubt, I held my whist;
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,
And 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;

An' come to stop those reckless vows,
Wou'd soon been broken.

A "hair-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.

Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen,
Till half a leg was scrimply seen;
And 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,

While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit, My gazing wonder chiefly drew;

Is a' th' amount.

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

Burns even pities the very Diel, with- And

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

out knowing, I am sure, that my uncle
Toby had been beforehand there with
him. "He is the father of curses and Here, rivers in the sea were lost;
lies," said Dr. Slop, "and is cursed and
damned already." "I am sorry for it,"
said my uncle Toby. A poet without love Here,
were a physical and metaphysical impos-
sibility. CARLYLE.

7 Duan is a term used by Ossian for the divisions of a digressive poem.

8 Curling is a game played with stones on the ice; Curlers, the players at it. The game resembles bowls, but is much more animated; hence aptly called "roaring play."

[threw

There, mountains to the skies were tost:
tumbling billows mark'd the coast
With surging foam;
distant shone Art's lofty boast,
The lordly dome.

There,

Here,

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

There, well-fed Irvine stately thuds:

Auld hermit Ayr staw through his woods, (Fit haunts for friendship or for love,)

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 every 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
With features stern.
[dare,

My heart did glowing transport feel,
To see a race heroic wheel,1
And brandish round the deep-dyed steel
In sturdy blows;

While back-recoiling seem to reel

Their Southron foes.

His Country's Saviour,2 mark him well!
Bold Richardton's 3 heroic swell;
The chief on Sark4 who glorious fell,
In high command;

And he whom ruthless fates expel
His native land.

There, where a sceptred Pictish shade 5
Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid,
I mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd
In colours strong;

Bold, soldier-featured, undismay'd
They strode along.

Through many a wild romantic grove," Near many a hermit-fancied cove,

9 Ayr, whose charter dates from the beginning of the thirteenth century. I The heroic race of the Wallaces. 2 Sir William Wallace.

3 Adam Wallace, of Richardton, cousin of Sir William.

4 Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was the second in command at the battle on the banks of Sark, in 1448. The victory was chiefly owing to his conduct and valour; but he died of his wounds after the action.

5 Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle is said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family seat of the Montgomeries of Coilsfield.

6 Barskimming, the seat of Sir Thomas Miller, at one time Lord Justice-Clerk,

In musing mood,

An agèd Judge, I saw him rove,
Dispensing good.

With deep-struck reverential awe,
The learned sire and son I saw;7
To Nature's God and Nature's law
They gave their lore,

This, all its source and end to draw, That, to adore.

Brydone's brave ward I well could spy,
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye;
Who call'd on Fame, low standing by,
To hand him on,

Whare many a patriot-name on high,
And hero shone.

DUAN SECOND.

WITH musing-deep, astonish'd stare,
I view'd the heavenly-seeming fair;
A whispering throb did witness bear
Of kindred sweet,

When with an elder sister's air
She did me greet.

"All hail, my own inspired bard!
In me thy native Muse regard;
Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
Thus poorly low;

I come to give thee such reward
As we bestow.

Know, the great geinus of this land
Has many a light, aërial band,
Who, all beneath his high command,
Harmoniously,

As arts or arms they understand,
Their labours ply.

They Scotia's race among them share:
Some fire the soldier on to dare;
Some rouse the patriot up to bare
Corruption's heart;

Some teach the bard, a darling care,
The tuneful art.

afterwards President of the Court of Session.

7 The Rev. Dr. Matthew Stewart, dis tinguished as a mathematician, and his son, Professor Dugald Stewart, the cele brated metaphysician. Their villa of Catrine was situated on the Ayr.

8 Referring to Colonel Fullarton.

'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore,
They, ardent, kindling spirits, pour;
Or, 'mid the venal senate's roar,
They sightless stand,

To mend the honest patriot-lore,
And grace the hand.

And when the bard or hoary sage
Charm or instruct the future age,
They bind the wild poetic rage

In energy,

Or point the inconclusive page
Full on the eye.

Hence Fullarton, the brave and young;
Hence Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue;
Hence sweet harmonious Beattie sung
His "Minstrel Lays;"

Or tore, with noble ardour stung,
The sceptic's bays.9

To lower orders are assign'd
The humbler ranks of human-kind,
The rustic bard, the labouring hind,

The artisan:

All choose, as various they're inclined,
The various man.

When yellow waves the heavy grain,

I mark'd thy embryo tuneful flame,
Thy natal hour.

With future hope I oft would gaze,
Fond, on thy little early ways,
Thy rudely-caroll'd, chiming phrase,
In uncouth rhymes,

Fired at the simple, artless lays
Of other times.

I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or, when the North his fleecy store
Drove through the sky,

I saw grim Nature's visage hoar
Struck thy young eye.

Or, when the deep green-mantled earth
Warm cherish'd every floweret's birth,
And joy and music pouring forth
In every grove,

I saw thee eye the general mirth
With boundless love.

When ripen'd fields and azure skies
Call'd forth the reaper's rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their evening joys,
And lonely stalk,

The threatening storm some strongly rein; To vent thy bosom's swelling rise

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I taught thy manners-painting strains,
The loves, the ways of simple swains,
Till now, o'er all my wide domains
Thy fame extends;

Of these am I, -Coila my name;
And this district as mine I claim,
Where once the Campbells,1 chiefs of And some, the pride of Coila's plains,

Held ruling power:

[fame,

9 Alluding to Beattie's Essay on Truth, which was meant as a refutation of Hume's sceptical reasonings.

1 The Loudoun branch of the Camp.

Become thy friends.

bells is here meant. Mossgiel and much of the neighbouring land then belonged to the Earl of Loudoun.

2 See page 159, note 2.

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