His piercing words, like Highland swords,
Divide the joints and marrow;
His talk o' hell, whare devils dwell,
Our vera sauls does harrow 1

Wi' fright that day.

A vast, unbottomed, boundless pit,
Filled fou o' lowin' brunstane,

Wha's ragin' flame, and scorchin' heat,
Wad melt the hardest whunstane !
The half-asleep start up wi' fear,
And think they hear it roarin',
When presently it does appear
"Twas but some neebor snorin',
Asleep that day.

'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell
How monie stories past,

And how they crowded to the yill,
When they were a' dismist:

blazing

ale

How drink gaed round, in cogs and caups, pails
Amang the forms and benches:

And cheese and bread, frae women's laps,
Was dealt about in lunches,

And dauds that day.

hunks

In comes a gaucy, gash guidwife, fat-talkative And sits down by the fire,

Syne draws her kebbuck and her knife; cheese

The lasses they are shyer.

The auld guidmen, about the grace,
Frae side to side they bother,

Till some ane by his bonnet lays,
And gies them't like a tether,
Fu' lang that day.

Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass,
Or lasses that hae naething!
Sma' need has he to say a grace,
Or melvie his braw claithing!
Oh wives, be mindfu' ance yoursel'
How bonny lads ye wanted,

And dinna, for a kebbuck-heel,

Let lasses be affronted

On sic a day!

Now Clinkumbell,1 wi' rattlin' tow,
Begins to jow and croon ;

soil with meal

cheese-rind

can

Some swagger hame, the best they dow,

Some wait the afternoon.

At slaps the billies halt a blink,

Till lasses strip their shoon :

Wi' faith and hope, and love and drink,

They're a' in famous tune

For crack that day.

How monie hearts this day converts

O' sinners and o' lasses!

gates

Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane,

As saft as ony flesh is.

There's some are fou o' love divine;

There's some are fou o' brandy;

And monie jobs that day begin

May end in houghmagandy
Some ither day.

ON A SCOTCH BARD,

GONE TO THE WEST INDIES.

A'YE wha live by sowps o' drink,
A' ye wha live by crambo-clink,
A' ye wha live and never think,

Come, mourn wi' me!
Our billie's gien us a' a jink,1
And owre the sea.

Lament him a' ye rantin' core,
Wha dearly like a random-splore,
Nae mair he'll join the merry roar
In social key;

For now he's ta'en anither shore,

And owre the sea!

1 "Our brother has eluded us all."

versifying

frolic

Auld cantie Kyle may weepers wear,

And stain them wi' the saut, saut tear; "Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear,

In flinders flee;

He was her laureate monie a year,
That's owre the sea.

He saw misfortune's cauld nor-west
Lang mustering up a bitter blast;
A jillet brak his heart at last,
Ill may she be!

So, took a berth afore the mast,
And owre the sea.

To tremble under Fortune's cummock,

cheerful

splinters

jilt

rod

On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock, meal and water
Wi' his proud, independent stomach,
Could ill agree;

So row't his hurdies in a hammock, rolled — loins
And owre the sea.

He ne'er was gien to great misguiding,
Yet coin his pouches wadna bide in;
Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding-
He dealt it free:

The Muse was a' that he took pride in,
That's owre the sea.

Jamaica bodies, use him weel,

And hap him in a cozie biel: wrap-snug shelter

Ye'll find him aye a dainty chiel,
And fou o' glee;

He wadna wranged the very deil,
That's owre the sea.

Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie! comrade
Your native soil was right ill-willie;

But may ye flourish like a lily,
Now bonnilie!

I'll toast ye in my hinmost gillie,
Though owre the sea!

gill

A BARD'S EPITAPH.

In a different spirit, Burns wrote an epitaph for himself a confession of his errors so solemn and so

touching, as to take the sting from every other comment on the subject.

Is there a whim-inspired fool,

Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,

Owre blate to seek, owre proud to

snool,

Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.

bashful

succumb