And even the very deils they brawly ken well know them.)

Auld Brig appeared of ancient Pictish race,
The very wrinkles Gothic in his face:

He seemed as he wi' Time had warstl'd wrestled

lang,

toughly stout- endured

Yet, teughly doure, he bade an unco bang.

a severe stroke
dressed

New Brig was buskit in a braw new coat
That he at Lon'on, frae ane Adams, got;
In's hand five taper staves as smooth's a bead,
Wi' virls and whirlygigums at the head.
The Goth was stalking round with anxious

1

search,

Spying the time-worn flaws in every arch;
It chanced his new-come neebor took his e'e,
And e'en a vexed and angry heart had he!
Wi' thieveless sneer to see his modish mien, cold, dry
He, down the water, gies him this guid-e'en:-

AULD BRIG.

I doubt na, frien' ye'll think ye're nae sheepshank,

small affair

Ance ye were streekit o'er frae bank to stretched bank,

But gin ye be a brig as auld as me—
Though, faith, that day I doubt ye'll never see
There'll be, if that date come, I'll wad a

bet a

boddle,

doit

Some fewer whigmaleeries in your noddle. crotchets 1 Rings and useless ornaments.

if

NEW BRIG.

Auld Vandal, ye but shew your little

mense,

Just much about it wi' your scanty sense.
Will your poor, narrow footpath of a street
Whare twa wheel-barrows tremble when they

meet

civility

Your ruined, formless bulk o' stane and lime, Compare wi' bonny brigs o' modern time? There's men o' taste would tak the Ducat Stream,1

Though they should cast the very sark

and swim,

AULD BRIG.

Conceited gowk, puffed up wi' windy

Ere they would grate their feelings wi' the view Of sic an ugly Gothic hulk as you.

shirt

fool

pride!

This monie a year I've stood the flood and

tide;

And though wi' crazy eild I'm sair

forfairn,

I'll be a Brig when ye're a shapeless cairn !

As yet ye little ken about the matter,
But twa-three winters will inform ye better.
When heavy, dark, continued, a'-day rains,
Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains;

1 A noted ford just above the Auld Brig. — B.

age

enfeebled

heap of stones

When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil,

Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil,

Or where the Greenock winds Greenock winds his moorland course,

1

Or haunted Garpal 1 draws his feeble source, Aroused by blustering winds and spotting thowes,

thaws

In monie a torrent down his snaw-broo rowes; While crashing ice, borne on the roaring

A lesson sadly teaching, to your cost,
That Architecture's noble art is lost!

speat,

flood

Sweeps dams, and mills, and brigs, a' to the gate;

way

And from Glenbuck down to the Ratton-key * Auld Ayr is just one lengthened tumbling seaThen down ye'll hurl, deil nor ye never rise! And dash the gumlie jaups up to the muddy waves pouring skies :

2

2 (Snow-broth) melting snow-rolls.

3 The source of the river Ayr. — B.

4 A small landing-place above the large key. — B.

NEW BRIG.

Fine Architecture, trowth, I needs must say't o't!

1 The banks of Garpal Water is one of the few places in the west of Scotland where those fancy-scaring beings, known by the name of ghaists, still continue pertinaciously to inhabit. B.

The L- be thankit that we've tint the
gate o't!

Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices,
Hanging with threatening jut, like precipices;
O'erarching, mouldy, gloom-inspiring coves,
Supporting roofs fantastic, stony groves:
Windows, and doors in nameless sculpture drest,
With order, symmetry, or taste unblest;
Forms like some bedlam statuary's dream,
The crazed creations of misguided whim;
Forms might be worshipped on the bended
knee,

lost

way

And still the second dread command be free, Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or

sea.

Mansions that would disgrace the building taste Of any mason reptile, bird or beast;

Fit only for a doited monkish race,

1

Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace;
Or cuifs of latter times, wha held the

notion

doting

AULD BRIG.

Oh ye, my dear remembered ancient

yealings,

1 An allusion to the moderatism of the Ayr clergy.

fools

That sullen gloom was sterling true devotion; Fancies that our good Brugh denies protection!1 And soon may they expire, unblest with resurrection!

coevals

Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings!

Ye worthy Proveses, and monie a Bailie,
Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil aye;
Ye dainty Deacons and ye douce Conveeners, grave
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 ga'e your hurdies to the smiters ;
And (what would now be strange) ye godly

1

writers;

A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon the broo, water
Were ye but here, what would ye say or do!
How would your spirits groan in deep vexation,
To see each melancholy alteration ;

And agonising, curse the time and place
When ye begat the base degenerate race!
Nae langer reverend men, their country's glory,
In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid
story!

Nae langer thrifty citizens and douce,
Meet owre a pint, or in the council-house;
But staumrel, corky-headed, graceless. half-witted
gentry,

The herryment and ruin of the country; plunder
Men three parts made by tailors and by barbers,
Wha waste your weel-hained gear on

well-saved

d

new brigs and harbours!

1 A sly hint at the easy professions of the Ayr writers or lawyers now known to Burns.