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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, Where many a patriot name on high,

And hero shone.

“Some hint the lover's harmless wile; Some grace the maiden's artless smile; Some soothe the labourer's weary toil,

For humble gains, And make his cottage scenes beguile

His cares and pains.


“ Some, bounded to a district space, Explore at large man's infant race, To mark the embryotic trace

Of rustic bard; And careful note each opening grace,

A guide and guard.

« Of these am 1-Coila my name; And this district as mine I claim, Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,

Held ruling power: 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 carolld 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.

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 genius of this land
Has many a light aërial band,
Who, all beneath his high command,

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. “ 'Mong swelling floods of recking gore, They, ardent, kindling spirits pour ; Or, 'mid the venal senate's roar,

They, sightless, stand, To mend the honest patriot lore,


the hand.
“ And when the bard, or hoary sage,
Charm or instruct the future age,
They bind the wild poet 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 skeptic's bays.
“ 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,
The threatening storm some strongly rein,
Some teach to menorate the plain

With tillage-skill ; And some instruct the shepherd train,

Blythe o'er the hill.

“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 reapers' rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their evening joys,

And lonely stalk,
To vent thy bosom's swelling rise

In pensive walk. “When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong, Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along, Those accents, grateful to thy tongue,

Th' adored name, I taught thee how to pour in song,

To soothe thy flame.

“ I saw thy pulse's maddening play, Wild send thee pleasure's devious way, Misled by fancy's meteor ray,

By passion driven ; But yet the light that led astray

Was light from heaven. “ I taught thy manners-painting strains, The loves, the ways of simple swains, Till now, o'er all my wide domains

Thy fame extends : And some, the pride of Coila's plains,

Become my friends.

+ Colonel Fullarton.

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Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither ; Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father ;

a Yon auld gray stane, amang the heather,

Marks out his head, Whare Burns has wrote, in rhyming blether

Tam Samson's dead !

There low he lies, in lasting rest; Perhaps upon his mouldering breast Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest,

To hatch an' breed; Alas! nae mair he'll them molest!

Tam Samson's dead !

When August winds the heather wave, And sportsmen wander by yon grave, Three volleys let his memory crave,

O'pouther an' lead, Till echo answer frae her cave,

Tam Samson's dead !

When winter muffles up his cloak, And binds the mire like a rock; When to the loughs the curlers flock,

Wi' gleesome speed, Wha will they station at the cock ?

Tam Samson's dead ! He was the king o'a' the core, To guard, or draw, or wick a bore, Or up the rink like Jehu roar

In time of need; But now he lags on death's hog-score,

Tam Samson's dead! Now safe the stately sawmont sail, And trouts bedropp'd wi' crimson hail, And eels weel kennd for souple tail,

And geds for greed, Since dark in death's fish-creel we wail

Tam Samson dead !
Rejoice, ye birring paitricks a';
Ye cootie moorcocks, crousely craw ;
Ye maukins, cock your fud fu' braw,

Withouten dread;
Your mortal fae is now awa',

Tam Samson's dead ! That woefu' morn be ever mourn'd, Saw him in shootin graith adorn'd, While pointers round impatient burn'd,

Frae couples freed; But, och ! he gaed and ne'er return'd !

Tam Samson's dead !

Heaven rest his saul, whare'er he be ! Is th' wish o’monie mae than me ; He had twa faults, or may be three,

Yet what remead? Ae social, honest man want we:

Tam Samson's dead!

THE EPITAPH. TAM SAMson's weel-worn clay here lies,

Ye canting zealots, spare him ! If honest worth in heaven rise,

Ye'll mend or ye win near him.

* When this worthy old sportsman went out last muirw season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, the last of his fields;" and expressed an ardent wish to le and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph. A certain preacher, a greai favourite with the million. Vide the Ordination, stanza ii. Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who was at that time ailing. For him, see also the Ordiuation, stanza ix.

PER CONTRA. Go, fame, and canter like a filly, Through a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie,* Tell every social, honest billie

To cease his grievin, For yet, unskaith'd by death's gleg gullie,

Tam Samson's livin,

* Killie is a phrase the country folks sometimes use for Kilmarnock.


Then first and foremost, through the kail,

Their stocks* maun a' be sought ance ; The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough They steek their e'en, an'graip an' wale, understood ; but for the sake of those who are unac

For muckle anes an’ straught anes. quainted with the manners and traditions of the country

Poor hav’rel Will fell aff the drift, where the scene is cast, notes are added, to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night,

An' wander'd through the bow-kail, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of An pow't for want o' better shift, Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a A runt was like a sow-tail, striking part of the history of human nature in its rude

Sae bow't that night. slate, in all ages and nations: and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such should

V. honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.

Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane,

They roar and cry a' throu’ther

The vera wee things, todlin, rin,
Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,

Wi’ stocks out-owre their shouther;
The simple pleasures of the lowly train;

An' gif the custoc's sweet or sour,
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art

Wi’ joctelegs they taste them ;
GOLDSMITH. Syne coziely, aboon the door,

Wi'cannie care they place them

To lie that night.
UPON that night, when fairies light,

On Cassilis Downanst dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,

The lasses staw frae 'mang them a',
On sprightly coursers prance;

To pou their stalks of corn ;t
Or for Colean the route is ta'en,

But Rab slips out, an' jinks about,
Beneath the moon's pale beams ;

Behint the muckle thorn :
There, up the cove, to stray an' rove

He grippet Nelly hard an' fast;
Amang the rocks and streams,

Loud skirl'd a' the lasses;
To sport that night.

But her tap-pickle maist was lost,

When kiuttlin in the fause-houset

Wi' him that night.
Amang the bonnic winding banks,

Where Doon rins, wimpling clear,
Where Bruceş ance ruled the martial ranks,

The auld guidwife's weel hoordet nits
An’ shook his Carrick spear,

Are round an' round divided,
Some merry, friendly countra folks,

An' monie lads' an' lasses' fates
Together did convene,

Are there that night decided :
To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks,

Some kindle, couthie, side by side
An' haud their Halloween

An'burn thegither trimly ;
Fu' blythe that night.

* The first ceremony of Halloween is, pulling each a III.

stock, or plant of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat,

with eyes shut, and pull the first they meet with: its being

big or liule, straight or crooked, is prophetie of the size and Mair braw than when they're fine;

shape of the grand object of all their spells--the husband Their faces blythe, fu'sweetly kythe,

or wife. If any yird, or earth, stick to the root, that is Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin':

tocher, or fortune ; and the laste of the custoc, that is, the The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,

heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and Weel knotted on their garten,

disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their

ordinary appellation, the runts, are placed somewhere Some unco blate, an' some wi' gabs,

above the head of the door: and the Christian names of Gar lasses hearts gang startin

the people whom chance brings into the house, are, accordWhyles fast at night. ing to the priority of placing the runts, the names in


+ They go to the barn-yard and pull each, at three seve* Is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and ral times, a slalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the other mischief-making beings, are all abroad on their top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the baneful, midnight errands; particularly those aërial party in question will come to the marriage bed any thing people the fairies, are said on that night to hold a grand but a maid. anniversary.

† When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being 100 + Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the green, or wel, the stack-builder, by means of old timber, neighbourhood of the ancient seat of the Earls of Cas. &c., makes a large apartment in his slack, with an opensilis.

ing in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind : this * A noted cavern near Colean house, called the Cove he calls a fause-house. of Colean: which, as Cassilis Downans, is famed in $ Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the country story for being a favourite haunt of fairies. lad and lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in

§ The famous family of that name, the ancestors of the fire, and accordingly as they burn quietly logether, Robert, the great deliverer of his country, were Earls of or start from beside one another, the course and issue of Carrick.

the courtship will be.

Some start awa wi' saucie pride,

And jump out-owre the chimlie

Wee Jenny to her grannie says,
Fu’high that night.

“Will ye go wi' me, grannie?

I'll eat the apple* at the glass,

I gat frae uncle Johnie ;"
Jean slips in twa, wi' tentie e'e;

She fuff’t her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
Wha 'twas she wadna tell;

In wrath she was sae vap'rin,
But this is Jock, an' this is me,

She noticed na, an azle brunt
She says in to hersel:

Her braw new worset apron
He bleezed owre her, an' she owre him,

Out through that night.
As they wad never mair part;
Till fuff! he started up the lum,

And Jean had e'en a sair heart

“Ye little skelpie-limmer's face !
To see't that night.

How daur you try sic sportin,

As seek the foul thief ony place,

For him to spae your fortune?
Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,

Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie ;

Great cause ye hae to fear it;
An' Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,

For monie a ane has gotten a fright,
To be compared to Willie:

An' lived an' died deleerit
Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' Aing,

On sic a night.
An' her ain fit it burnt it;

While Willie lap, and swoor by jing,

« Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor,
'Twas just the way he wanted

I mind't as weel' yestreen,
To be that night.

I was a gilpey then, I'm sure

I was na past fyfteen :

The simmer had been cauld an’ wat,
Nell had the fause-house in her min',

An' stuff was unco green;
She pits hersel an’ Rob in ;

An'aye a rantin kirn we gat,
In loving bleeze they sweetly join,

An'just on Halloween
Till white in ase they're sobbin:

It fell that night.
Nell's heart was dancin at the view,

She whisper'd Rob to look fort:

“ Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen,
Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonnie mou,
Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,

A clever, sturdy fallow;
Unseen that night.

He's sin got Eppie Sim wi' wean,

That lived in Achmacalla :

He gat hemp-seed,t I mind it weel,

An' he made unco light o't;
But Merran sat behint their backs,

But monie a day was by himsel,
Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
She lea'es them gashin at their cracks,

He was sae sairly frighted

That vera night.”
And slips out by hersel :
She through the yard the nearest taks,

An' to the kiln she goes then,

Then up gat sechtin Jamie Fleck,
An' darklins grapit for the bauks,

An' he swoor by his conscience,
And in the blue-clue* throws then,

That he could saw hemp-seed a peck ;
Right fear't that night.

For it was a' but nonsense ;

The auld guidman raught down the pock, XII.

An' out a handful gied him ;
An'aye she wint, an'aye she swat,

Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk,
I wat she made nae jaukin ;

Sometimes when nae ane seed him :
Till something held within the pat,

An' try't that night.
Guid L-! but she was quakin!
But whether 'twas the deil himsel,

* Take a candle, and go alone to a looking-glass; eat

an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should Or whether 'twas a bauken,

comb your hair, all the time; the face of your conjugal Or whether it was Andrew Bell,

companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping She did na wait on talkin

over your shoulder. To spier that night.

+ Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of hempseed; harrowing it with any thing you can conveniently

draw after you. Repeat now and then, “ Hemp-seed, I • Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must saw thee, hemp-seed, I saw thee; and him (or her) that strictly observe these directions : Steal out, all alone, 10 is to be my true love, come after me and pou thee.” Look the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clue of blue over your left shoulder, and you will see the appearance yarn; wind it in a new clue off the old one; and, towards of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand Some traditions say, "come after me, and shaw thee," wha hauds ? i. e. who holds ? an answer will be returned that is, show thyself: in which case it simply appears frorn the kiln-poi, by naming the Christian and surname Others omit the harrowing, and say, "come after me, and of your future spouse.

harrow thee."


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