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I've heard my reverend grannie say,
In lanely glens ye like to stray;
Or where auld, ruin'd castles, gray,
Nod to the moon,

Ye fright the nightly wanderer's way
Wi' eldritch croon.1

When twilight did my graunie summon,
To say her prayers, douce,' honest woman!
Aft yont3 the dyke she's heard you bummin',
Wi' eerie1 drone;

Or, rustlin', thro' the boortries 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;8

9

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

Wi' waving sugh.10

The cudgel in my nieve" did shake,
Each bristled hair stood like a stake,

12

When wi' an eldritch stour, quaick—quaick-
Amang the springs,

Awa' ye squatter'd like a drake,

On whistling wings.

Let warlocks1 grim, an' wither'd hags,
Tell how wi' you on ragweed15 nags,
They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags,
Wi' wicked speed;

And in kirk-yards renew their leagues
Owre howkit1 dead.

1 Frightful. hollow moan.-2 Wise, good.-3 Beyond.-4 Frighted, or frightful.- Elder-trees.-6 One.-7 Glimmering.-8 A pool, or sheet of water.A bush, or large tuft of rushes.-10 Rushing noise of wind or water.11 Hand, or fist.-12 The raising a cloud of dust.-13 Fluttered in water.14 Wizards.-15 Ragwort.

16 Digged up, or disinterred. Those who are, or were, believers in the old traditions relative to witchcraft, supposed that the incantations of these demoniacs were frequently performed over dead bodies, which they dug, scratched, or conjured out of their graves in order to perform their devilish orgies more effectually.

Thence countra wives wi' toil an' pain,
May plunge an' plunge the kirn' in vain;
For, oh! the yellow treasure's ta'en
By witching skill:

2

An' dawtit, twal-pint3 Hawkie 's1 gaen'
6
As yell's the Bill.

Thence mystic knots mak great abuse,

8

On young guidmen, fond, keen, an' crouse;"
When the best wark-lume" i' the house,
By cantrip" wit,

Is instant made no worth a louse,
Just at the bit.

When thowes12 dissolve the snawy hoord,
An' float the jingling icy-boord,

Then Water kelpies's haunt the foord,
By your direction,

An' 'nighted travellers are allured
To their destruction.

An' aft your moss-traversing Spunkies,14
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is,
The bleezin', curst, mischievous monkeys
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,

1 Churn.-2 Fondled, caressed. - 3 Twelve-pint. - 4 Cow. —4 • Barren.

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7 Bull. The literal English meaning of these last two lines is, that a favorite cow, that gave daily twelve Scotch pints of milk (equal to forty-eight English pints), is becoming as barren as a bull, in consequence of witchcraft. 8 Men newly married.- Courageous.

10 A working tool. Fully to appreciate the meaning of the stanza beginning "Thence mystic knots," it is necessary for the English reader to know, that a tradition was entertained in Scotland of the power of witchcraft to prevent consummation on the bridal night, by rendering the "young guid man" powerless "just at the bit," or moment when, &c.

11 A charm or spell.-12 Thaws.

13 A mischievous kind of spirits, said to haunt fords, or ferries, particularly in stormy nights.

14 Will-o'-the-wisp, or Jack-a-lantern.

Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,
Or, strange to tell!

The youngest brother ye wad whip
Aff straught to h-ll!

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

Sweet on the fragrant, flowery swaird,
In shady bower:

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing1 dog!
Ye came to Paradise incog.

An' played on man a cursed brogue,

(Black be your fa'!)

An' gied the infant warld a shog,2

4

'Maist ruin'd a'.

5

D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz,3
Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz,
Ye did present your smoutieR 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' hall,
While scabs an' blotches did him gall,
Wi' bitter claw,

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

But a' your doings to rehearse,

Your wily snares an' fechting1o fierce,
Sin' that day Michael" did you pierce,
Down to this time,

Wad ding12 a' Lallan tongue, or Erse,
In prose or rhyme.

An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye 're thinkin',
A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin',

1 Trick-contriving.-2 A violent shock.-3 Bustle.-4 Smoky clothes.• Withered, or scorched wig.—6 Ugly, or smutty.—7 Hit aslant, or obliquely. -—8 Loosed.—9 A scold.-10 Fighting.-11 Vide Milton, book vi.-12 Puzzle.

Some luckless hour will send him linkin','

To your black pit;

But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin',"
An' cheat you yet.

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!
O wad ye tak a thought an' men'!
Ye aiblins3 might—I dinna ken1–
Still hae a stake-

I'm wae to think upon yon den,

Even for your sake!5

2

ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.

EDINA! Scotia's darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and towers,
Where once beneath a monarch's feet
Sat Legislation's sovereign powers!
From marking wildly-scatter'd flowers,
As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd,
And singing, lone, the lingering hours,
I shelter in thy honor'd shade.

Here Wealth still swells the golden tide,
As busy Trade his labors plies;
There Architecture's noble pride
Bids elegance and splendor rise;
Here Justice, from her native skies,
High wields her balance and her rod;
There Learning, with his eagle eyes,
Seeks Science in her coy abode.

Thy sons, Edina, social, kind,

With open arms the stranger hail
Their views enlarged, their liberal mind,
Above the narrow, rural vale;
Attentive still to sorrow's wail,

Or modest merit's silent claim;

1 Tripping.-2 Dodging.-3 Perhaps.-4 Do not know.

5 Written in the winter of 1784-5. "The idea of an Address to the Deil was suggested to the poet, by running over in his mind the many ludicrous accounts and representations we have, from various quarters, of this august personage.”—-Gilbert Burns.

And never may their sources fail!
And never envy blot their name!

Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn!
Gay as the gilded summer sky,
Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn,
Dear as the raptured thrill of joy!
Fair Burnet' strikes th' adoring eye,
Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine,
I see the Sire of love on high,

And own his work indeed divine!

There, watching high the least alarms,
Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar;
Like some bold veteran, gray in arms,
And mark'd with many a seamy scar;
The ponderous wall and massy bar,

Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock;
Have oft withstood assailing war,
And oft repell'd the invader's shock.

With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears,
I view that noble, stately dome,
Where Scotia's kings of other years,
Famed heroes, had their royal home.
Alas! how changed the times to come;
Their royal name low in the dust!
Their hapless race wild-wandering roam!
Tho' rigid law cries out, 'twas just!

Wild beats my heart to trace your steps,
Whose ancestors, in days of yore,
Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps,
Old Scotia's bloody lion bore:
Even I who sing in rustic lore,

Haply my sires have left their shed, And faced grim danger's loudest roar, Bold-following where your fathers led!

Edina! Scotia's darling seat!

All hail thy palaces and towers, Where once beneath a monarch's feet Sat Legislation's sovereign powers!

1 Miss Burnet of Monboddo.

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