ADDRESS TO THE DEIL.1

Oh Prince! Oh Chief of many throned Pow'rs,
That led th' embattled Seraphim to war-

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

Milton.

Closed under hatches,
Spairges about the brunstane cootie,"

To scaud poor wretches

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
An' let poor damned bodies be;
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,
Ev'n to a deil,

To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,

An' hear us squeel!

Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame ;5
Far kend an' 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.7

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

Whyles in the human bosom pryin,

Unseen thou lurks.

I've heard my reverend Graunie say,
In lanely glens ye like to stray;

1 It was, I think, in the winter, as we were going together with carts for coal to the family fire (and I could yet point out the particular spot), that the author 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.-G. B. 4 Strike.

3 Wooden dish.

2 Dashest.

5

The third stanza was originally

Lang syne in Eden's happy scene,

When strappin' Adam's days were green,
And Eve was like my bonnie Jean,

My dearest part,

A dancin', sweet, young, handsome quean
Wi' guileless heart.

6 Flaming pit.

7 Neither bashful nor apt to be scared. 8 Uncovering.

Or where auld ruin'd castles, gray,
Nod to the moon,

Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way,

Wi' eldritch croon.'

When twilight did my Graunie summon,
To say her pray'rs, douce, honest woman!
Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin,'
Wi' eerie drone;

Or, rustlin, thro' the boortries3 comin,
Wi' heavy groan.

Ae dreary, windy, winter night,

The stars shot down wi' sklentin' light,
Wi' you, mysel, I gat a fright,

Ayont the lough;

Ye, like a rash-bush,5 stood in sight,

Wi' waving sugh.

The cudgel in my nieve" did shake,
Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake,
When wi' an eldritch stoor,' quaick, quaick,
Amang the springs,

8

Awa ye squatter'd, like a drake,

On whistling wings.

Let warlocks9 grim, an' wither'd hags,
Tell how wi' you on ragweed" nags,
They skim the muirs, an' dizzy crags,
Wi' wicked speed;

And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,
Owre howkit" dead.

Thence, countra wives, wi' toil an' pain,
May plunge an' plunge the kirn12 in vain;
For, Oh! the yellow treasure's taen

By witching skill;

An' dawtit, 13 twal-pint1 Hawkie's gaen

As yell's1 the bill.16

Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse,
On young Guidmen, fond, keen, an' crouse;17
When the best wark-lume18 i' the house,

By cantraip1 wit,

Is instant made no worth a—

1 Frightful moan.

Just at the bit.

2 Humming.

4 Slanting. 9 Wizards. 14 Twelve-pint. 19 Magical.

3 The shrub elder, common in the hedges of barn-yards. 5 A bush of rushes. 6 Fist. 7 Hoarse. 8 Fluttered. 10 Ragwort. 11 Digged up.

15 Barren.

12 Churn.

16 Bull. 17 Courageous.

13 Fondled.
18 Working tool.

When thowes' dissolve the snawy hoord,2
An' float the jinglin' icy-boord,
Then Water-kelpies haunt the foord,

By your direction,

An' nighted Trav'llers are allur'd

To their destruction.

An' aft your moss-traversing Spunkies3
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is:
The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkies
Delude his eyes,

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 shar'd,

The raptur'd hour,

Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry swaird,

In shady bow'r :

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

An' play'd on man a cursed brogue,5

(Black be

you fa!)

An' gied the infant warld a shog,6

'Maist ruin'd a'.

D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz,7
Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz,9
Ye did present your smoutie phiz,

'Mang better folk,

An' sklented 10 on the man of Uzz

Your spitefu' joke?

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall,
An' brak him out o' house an' hal',
While scabs an' blotches did him gall,

Wi' bitter claw,

An' lows'd11 his ill-tongu'd, wicked Scawl,12
Wast warst ava ?13

1 Thaws.

2 Hoard.

3 Will-o'-whisp.

4 Trick-contriving.

5 Trick. 6 Shock. 7 Bustle. 8 Smoky clothes. 9 Stunted periwig.

10 Played. 1 Loosed. 12 Scold. 13 Of all.

But a' your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares an' fechtin' fierce,
Sin' that day Michael2 did you pierce,
Down to this time,

Wad ding3 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;

But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin,5

An' cheat you yet.

But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben !
O wad ye tak a thought an' men'!
Ye aiblins might-I dinna ken-

Still hae a stake

I'm wae to think upo' yon den,

Ev'n for your sake!

THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAILIE," THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE.

AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALE.

As Mailie an' her lambs thegither,
Were ae day nibbling on the tether,
Upon her cloots she coost a hitch,10
An' owre she warsl'd" in the ditch:
There, groaning, dying, she did lie,
When Hughoc1 he cam doytin by.

Wi' glowrin een, an' lifted han's,
Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's;
He saw her days were near-hand ended,
But, waes my heart! he could na mend it!

1 Fighting.

2 Vide Milton, Book vi.-R. B.
5 Dodging.

3 Worst. 6 Perhaps.

* Tripping. 7 The circumstances of the poor sheep were pretty much as he has described them he had, partly by way of frolic, bought a ewe and two lambs from a neighbour, and she was tethered in a field adjoining the house at Lochlie. He and I were going out with our teams, and our two younger brothers to drive for us, at mid-day; when Hugh Wilson, a curious-looking, awkward boy, clad in plaiding, came to us, with much anxiety in his face, with the information that the ewe had entangled herself in the tether, and was lying in the ditch. Robert was much tickled with Huoc's appearance and postures on the occasion. Poor Mailie was set to rights, and when we returned from the plough in the evening, he repeated to me her "Death and Dying Words," pretty much in the way they now stand.-G. B. 9 Cast. 10 Loop. 11 Wrestled. 12 A neibor herd-callan.-R. B.

8 Hoof.