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ANSTER FAIR, 
 
 A POEM, 
 IN SIX CANTOS. 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM TENNANT. 
 
 Nee pol ego Nemeas credo, neque ego Olympian. 
 Neque usquam ludos tarn festivos fieri, 
 Quam hie intus fiunt ludi ludificabiles. 
 
 PLAUTI, Casiua. 
 
 sane leve 
 
 Dum nihil habemus majus calamo ludimus. 
 
 PFLEDRI Fab. ** 
 
 FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 OLIVER & BOYD, HIGH-STREET. 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY G. & W. B. WHITTAKER, LONDON ; 
 AND W. TURNBULL, GLASGOW. 
 
 1821. 
 

I 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following Poem is presented to the Public 
 with that diffidence and anxiety which every 
 young Author feels when the good or bad fate 
 of his first production must check his rashness 
 and vanity, or enliven his future efforts with the 
 confidence arising from popular approbation. 
 
 The Poem is written in stanzas of octave 
 rhime, or the ottava rima of the Italians ; a 
 measure said to be invented by Boccaccio, and 
 after him employed by Tasso and Ariosto. 
 From these writers it was transferred into Eng- 
 
 A2 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 lish Poetry by Fairfax, in his Translation of 
 a Jerusalem Delivered,'" but since his days, has 
 been by our Poets, perhaps, too little cultivated. 
 The stanza of Fairfax is here shut with the 
 Alexandrine of Spenser, that its close may be 
 more full and sounding. 
 
 In a humorous Poem, partly descriptive of 
 Scottish manners, it was impossible to avoid using 
 a few Scottish words. Some old English words 
 are likewise admitted. 
 
 The transactions of Anster Fair may be 
 supposed to have taken place during the reign 
 of James V., a Monarch, whom tradition reports 
 to have had many gamesome rambles in Fife, 
 and with whose liveliness and jollity of temper 
 the merriment of the Fair did not ill accord : 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 yet a scrupulous congruity with the modes of his 
 times was not intended, and must not be expected. 
 Ancient and modern manners are mixed and 
 jumbled together, to heighten the humour, or 
 variegate the description. 
 
 Edinburgh,! 
 5th May 1812. J 
 
ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 I. 
 
 While some of Troy and pettish heroes sing, 
 And some of Rome and chiefs of pious fame, 
 
 And some of men that thought it harmless thing 
 To smite off heads in Mars's bloody game, 
 
 And some of Eden's garden gay with spring, 
 And Hell's dominions terrible to name, — 
 
 I sing a theme far livelier, happier, gladder, 
 
 I sing of Anster Fair, ana bonny Maggie Lauder. 
 
4 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 II. 
 
 What time from east, from west, from south, from north, 
 
 From every hamlet, town, and smoky city, 
 Laird, clown, and beau, to Anster Fair came forth, 
 
 The young, the gay, the handsome, and the witty, 
 To try in various sport and game their worth, 
 
 Whilst prize before them Maggie sat, the pretty, 
 And after many a feat, and joke, and banter, 
 Fair Maggie's hand was won by mighty Rob the 
 Ranter. 
 
 III. 
 Muse, that from top of thine old Greekish hill, 
 
 Didst the harp-fing'ring Theban younker view, 
 And on his lips bid bees their sweets distil, 
 
 And gav'st the chariot that the white swans drew, 
 O let me scoop, from thine ethereal rill, 
 
 Some little palmfuls of the blessed dew, 
 And lend the swan-drawn car, that safely I, 
 Like him, may scorn the earth, and burst into the sky- 
 
 6 
 
CANTO FIRST. 5 
 
 IV. 
 
 Our themes are like; for he the games extolPd 
 Held in the chariot- shaken Grecian plains, 
 
 Where the vain victor, arrogant and bold, 
 Parsley or laurel got for all his pains. 
 
 I sing of sports more worthy to be told, 
 
 Where better prize the Scottish victor gains : 
 
 What were the crowns of Greece but wind and bladder, 
 
 Compar'dwith marriage-bed of bonny Maggie Lauder? 
 
 V. 
 
 And O that king Apollo would but grant 
 A little spark of that transcendant flame 
 
 That fir*d the Chian rhapsodist to chant 
 How vied the bowmen for Ulysses* dame, 
 
 And him of Rome to sing how Atalant 
 
 Plied, dart in hand, the suitor-slaught 'ring game, 
 
 Till the bright gold, bowl'd forth along the grass, 
 
 Betray'd her to a spouse, and stopp'd the bounding lass. 
 
 B 
 
6 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But lo ! from bosom of yon southern cloud, 
 I see the chariot come which Pindar bore ; 
 
 I see the swans, whose white necks, arching proud, 
 
 Glitter with golden yoke, approach my shore : 
 . For me they come — O Phoebus, potent god ! 
 
 Spare, spare me now — Enough, good king— no more— 
 
 A little spark I ask'd in moderation, 
 
 Why scorch me ev'n to death with fiery inspiration r 
 
 VII. 
 
 My pulse beats fire— my pericranium glows, 
 
 Like baker's oven, with poetic heat ; 
 A thousand bright ideas, spurning prose, 
 
 Are in a twinkling hatch'd in Fancy's seat ; 
 Zounds ! they will fly, out at my ears and nose, 
 
 If through my mouth they find not passage fleet ; 
 I hear them buzzing deep within my noddle, 
 Like bees that in their hives confus'dly hum and huddle. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 7 
 
 VIII. 
 
 How now ? — what's this ? — my very eyes, I trow, 
 Drop on my hands their base prosaic scales ; 
 
 My visual orbs are purg'd from film, and lo ! 
 Instead of Anster's turnip-bearing vales, 
 
 I see old Fairyland's mirac'lous show, 
 
 Her trees of tinsel kiss'd by freakish gales, 
 
 Her ouphes, that cloak'd in leaf-gold skim the breeze, * 
 
 And fairies swarming thick as mites in rotten cheese, 
 
 IX. 
 
 I see the puny fair-chinn'd goblin rise 
 Suddenly glorious from his mustard-pot ; 
 
 I see him wave his hand in seemly wise, 
 
 And button round him tight his fulgent coat ; 
 
 While Maggie Lauder, in a great surprise, 
 Sits startled on her chair, yet fearing not ; 
 
 I see him ope his dewy lips ; I hear 
 
 The strange and strict command address'd to Maggie's 
 ear. 
 
8 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 X. 
 
 I see the Ranter with bagpipe on back, 
 
 As to the fair he rides jocundly on ; 
 I see the crowds that press with speed not slack 
 
 Along* each road that leads to Anster loan ; 
 I see the suitors, that, deep-sheath'd in sack, 
 
 Hobble and tumble, bawl and swear, and groan ; 
 I see — but fie, thou brainish Muse ! what mean 
 These vapourings, and brags of what by thee is seen r 
 
 XL 
 
 Go to — be cooler, and in order tell 
 
 To all my good co-townsmen list'ning round, 
 
 How every merry incident befel, 
 
 Whereby our loan shall ever be renown'd. 
 
 Say first, what elf or fairy could impel 
 
 Fair Mag, with wit, and wealth, and beauty crown'd, 
 
 To put her suitors to such waggish test, 
 
 And give her happy bed to him that jumped best ? 
 
CANTO FIRST, 9 
 
 XII. 
 
 'Twas on a keen December night ; John Frost 
 
 Drove through mid air his chariot, icy-wheel'd, 
 And from the sky's crisp ceiling, star-embost, 
 
 Whiff'd off the clouds that the pure blue conceal'd • 
 The hornless moon amid her brilliant host 
 
 Shone, and with silver-sheeted lake and field ; 
 'Twas cutting cold; Fm sure, each trav'ler's nose 
 Was pinch'd right red that night, and numb'd were all 
 his toes. 
 
 XIIL 
 Not so were Maggie Lauder's toes, as she 
 
 In her warm chamber at her supper sate, 
 (For 'twas that hour when burgesses agree 
 
 To eat their suppers ere the night grows late). 
 Alone she sat, and pensive as may be 
 
 A young fair lady, wistful of a mate : 
 Yet with her teeth held now and then a-picking, 
 Her stomach to refresh, the breast-bone of a chicken. 
 
 B2 
 
10 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 She thought upon her suitors, that with love 
 Besiege her chamber all the livelong day, 
 
 Aspiring each her virgin heart to move, 
 With courtship's every troublesome essay ; 
 
 Calling her, angel, sweeting, fondling, dove, 
 And other nicknames in love's friv'lous way ; 
 
 While she, though their addresses still she heard, 
 
 Held back from all her heart, and still no beau preferr'd. 
 
 XV. 
 
 What, what ! quo' Mag, must thus it be my doom 
 To spend my prime in maidhood's joyless state, 
 
 And waste away my sprightly body's bloom 
 In spouseless solitude without a mate, 
 
 Still toying with my suitors, as they come 
 Cringing in lowly courtship to my gate ? 
 
 Fool that I am, to live unwed so long ! 
 
 More fool, since I am woo'd by such a clam'rous throng ! 
 
CANTO FIRST. 11 
 
 XVI. 
 For was e'er heiress with much gold in chest, 
 
 And dower'd with acres of wheat-bearing land, 
 By such a pack of men, in am'rous quest, 
 
 Fawningly spaniel'd to bestow her hand ? 
 Where'er I walk, the air that feeds my breast 
 
 Is by the gusty sighs of lovers fann'd ; 
 Each wind that blows wafts love- cards to my lap ; 
 Whilst I— ah, stupid Mag ! — avoid each am'rous trap ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Then come, let me my suitors' merits weigh, 
 And in the worthiest lad my spouse select :— 
 
 First, there's our Anster merchant, Norman Ray 
 A powder'd wight with golden buttons deck'd, 
 
 That stinks with scent, and chats like popinjay, 
 And struts with phiz tremendously erect : 
 
 Four brigs has he, that on the broad sea swim ; — 
 
 He is a pompous fool — I cannot think of him. 
 
12 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Next is the maltster Andrew Strang, that takes 
 His seat i' the Bailie's loft on Sabbath-day, 
 
 With paltry visage white as oaten cakes, 
 As if no blood runs gurgling in his clay. 
 
 Heav'ns ! what an awkward hunch the fellow makes, 
 As to the priest he does the bow repay ! 
 
 Yet he is rich— a very wealthy man, true — 
 
 But, by the holy rood, I will have none of Andrew* 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then for the Lairds — there's Melvil of Carnbee, 
 A handsome gallant, and a beau of spirit ; 
 
 Who can go down the dance so well as he ? 
 And who can fiddle with such manly merit ? 
 
 Ay, but he is too much the debauchee — 
 
 His cheeks seem sponges oozing port and claret ; 
 
 In marrying him I should bestow myself ill, 
 
 And so, I'll not have you, thou fuddler, Harry Melvil ! 
 
CANTO FIRST. 13 
 
 XX. 
 
 There's Cunningham of Barns, that still assails 
 With verse and billet-doux my gentle heart, 
 
 A bookish squire, and good at telling tales, 
 
 That rhimes and whines of Cupid, flame, and dart ; 
 
 But, oh ! his mouth a sorry smell exhales, 
 And on his nose sprouts horribly the wart : 
 
 What though there be a fund of lore and fun in him ? 
 
 He has a rotten breath — I cannot think of Cunningham. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Why then, there's Allardyce, that plies his suit 
 And battery of courtship more and more ; 
 
 Spruce Lochmalonie, that with booted foot 
 
 Each morning wears the threshold of my door ; 
 
 Auchmoutie too, and Bruce, that persecute 
 My tender heart with am'rous buffets sore : — 
 
 —Whom to my hand and bed should I promote ? — 
 
 — Eh-la ! what sight is this? — what ail's my mustard-pot? 
 
14 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Here broke the lady her soliloquy ; 
 
 For in a twink her pot of mustard, lo ! 
 Self-mov'd, like Jove's wheel'd stool that rolls on high, 
 
 'Gan caper on her table to and fro, 
 And hopp'd and fidgetted before her eye, 
 
 Spontaneous, here and there, a wondrous show : 
 As leaps, instinct with mercury, a bladder, 
 So leaps the mustard-pot of bonnie Maggie Lauder. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Soon stopp'd its dance th' ignoble utensil, 
 
 When from its round and small recess there camt 
 
 Thin curling wreaths of paly smoke, that still, 
 Fed by some magic unapparent flame, 
 
 Mount to the chamber's stucco'd roof, and fill 
 Each nook with fragrance, and refresh the dame : 
 
 Ne'er smelt a Phoenix-nest so sweet, I wot, 
 
 As smelt the luscious fumes of Maggie's mustard-pot. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 15 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 It reeked censer-like ; then, strange to tell ! 
 
 Forth from the smoke, that thick and thicker grows, 
 A fairy of the height of half an ell, 
 
 In dwarfish pomp, majestically rose : 
 His feet, upon the table 'stablish'd well, 
 
 Stood trim and splendid in their snake-skin hose ; 
 Gleam'd topaz-like the breeches he had on, 
 Whose waistband like the bend of summer rainbow shone. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 His coat seem'd fashion'd of the threads of gold, 
 That intertwine the clouds at sun-set hour, 
 
 And, certes, Iris with her shuttle bold 
 
 Wove the rich garment in her lofty bower ; 
 
 To form its buttons were the Pleiads old 
 
 Pluck'd from their sockets, sure by genie-power, 
 
 And sew'd upon the coat's resplendent hem ; 
 
 Its neck was lovely green, each cuff a sapphire gem. 
 
16 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 As when the churlish spirit of the Cape 
 
 To Gam a, voyaging to Mozambique, 
 Up-popp'd from sea, a tangle- tassel'd* shape, 
 
 With mussels sticking inch-thick on his cheek, 
 And 'gan with tortoise-shell his limbs to scrape, 
 
 And yawn'd his monstrous blobberlips to speak ; 
 Brave Gama's hairs stood bristled at the sight, 
 And on the tarry deck sunk down his men with fright. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 So sudden (not so huge and grimly dire) 
 
 Uprose to Maggie's stounded eyne the sprite, 
 
 As fair a fairy as you could desire, 
 
 With ruddy cheek, and chin and temples white ; 
 
 His eyes seem'd little points of sparkling fire, 
 That, as he look'd, charm'd with inviting light ; 
 
 He was, indeed, as bonny a fay and brisk, 
 
 As e'er on long moonbeam was seen to ride and frisk. 
 
 * Tangk-tasseVd, hung round with tangle (sea-weed) as with tas- 
 sels. I observe tangle in Bailey's Diet though not in Johnson's. 
 
 1 
 
CANTO FIRST. 17 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Around his bosom, by a silken zone, 
 
 A little bagpipe gracefully was bound, 
 Whose pipes like hollow stalks of silver shone, 
 
 The glist'ring tiny avenues of sound ; 
 Beneath his arm the windy bag", full-blown, 
 
 Heav'd up its purple like an orange round, 
 And only waited orders to discharge 
 Its blast with charming groan into the sky at large. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 He wav'd his hand to Maggie, as she sat 
 Amaz'd and startled on her carved chair ; 
 
 Then took his petty feather-garnish'd hat, 
 In honour to the lady, from his hair, 
 
 And made a bow so dignifiedly flat, 
 
 That Mag was witched with his beauish air : 
 
 At last he spoke, with voice so soft, so kind, 
 
 So sweet, as if his throat with fiddle-strings was lin'd— • 
 
 C 
 
18 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Lady ! be not offended that I dare, 
 
 Thus forward and impertinently rude, 
 Emerge, uncall'd, into the upper air, 
 
 Intruding on a maiden's solitude : 
 Nay, do not be alarm'd, thou Lady fair ! 
 
 Why startle so ? — I am a fairy good ; 
 Not one of those that, envying beauteous maids, 
 Speckle their skins with moles, and fill with spleens 
 their heads. 
 
 XXXI. 
 For, as conceal'd in this clay-house of mine, 
 
 I overheard thee in a lowly voice 
 Weighing thy lovers' merits, with design 
 
 Now on the worthiest lad to fix thy choice, 
 I have up-bolted from my paltry shrine, 
 
 To give thee, sweet-eyed lass, my best advice ; 
 For, by the life of Oberon my king ! 
 To pick good husband out is, sure, a ticklish thing. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 19 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And never shall good Tommy Puck permit 
 Such an assemblage of unwonted charms 
 
 To cool some lechers lewd licentious fit, 
 
 And sleep impounded by his boisterous arms. 
 
 What though his fields by twenty ploughs be split, 
 And golden wheat wave riches on his farms ? 
 
 His house is shame — it cannot, shall not be : 
 
 A greater, happier doom, O Mag, awaiteth thee. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Strange are indeed the steps by which thou must 
 
 Thy glory's happy eminence attain ; 
 But Fate hath fix'd them, and 'tis Fate's t' adjust 
 
 The mighty links that ends to means enchain ; 
 Nor may poor Puck his little fingers thrust 
 
 Into the links, to break Jove's steel in twain : 
 Then, Maggie, hear, and let my words descend 
 Into thy soul, for much it boots thee to attend. 
 
20 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 To-morrow, when o'er th' Isle of May the sun 
 Lifts up his forehead bright with golden crown, 
 
 Call to thine house the light-heel'd men, that run 
 Afar on messages for Anster Town, 
 
 Fellows of sp'rit, by none in speed outdone, 
 Of lofty voice, enough a drum to drown, 
 
 And bid them hie, post-haste, through all the nation, 
 
 And publish, far- and near, this famous proclamation : 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Let them proclaim, with voice's loudest tone, 
 That on your next approaching market-day 
 
 Shall merry sports be held in Anster loan, 
 With celebration notable and gay ; 
 
 And that a prize, than gold or precious stone 
 More precious, shall the victor's toils repay, 
 
 Ev'n thy own form with beauties so replete, 
 
 —Nay, Maggie, start not thus ! — thy marriage-bed. 
 my sweet. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 21 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 First, on the loan shall ride full many an ass, 
 With stout whip- wielding rider on his back, 
 
 Intent with twinkling" hoof to pelt the grass, 
 And pricking up his long ears at the crack. 
 
 Next o'er the ground the daring men shall pass, 
 Half-coffin'd in their cumbrances of sack, 
 
 With heads just peeping from their shrines of bag, 
 
 Horribly hobbling round, and straining hard for Mag. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Then shall the pipers groaningly begin 
 In squeaking rivalry their merry strain, 
 
 Till Billyness shall echo back the din, 
 And Innergelly woods shall ring again. 
 
 Last, let each man that hopes thy hand to win 
 By witty product of prolific brain, 
 
 Approach, and, confident of Pallas' aid, 
 
 Claim by an hum'rous tale possession of thy bed. 
 
 C2 
 
22 ANSTER PAIR. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Such are the wondrous tests, by which, my love, 
 The merits of thy husband must be tried ; 
 
 And he that shall in these superior prove, 
 
 (One proper husband shall the Fates provide) 
 
 Shall from the loan with thee triumphant move 
 Homeward, the jolly bridegroom and the bride, 
 
 And at thy house shall eat the marriage-feast, 
 
 When I'll pop up again. — Here Tommy Puck surceast. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 He ceas'd, and to his wee mouth, dewy-wet, 
 His bagpipe's tube of silver up he held, 
 
 And underneath his down-press'd arm he set 
 His purple bag, that with a tempest swelled ; 
 
 He play'd and pip'd so sweet, that never yet 
 Mag had a piper heard that Puck excell'd : 
 
 Had Midas heard a tune so exquisite, 
 
 By Heav'n! his long base ears had quiver'd with delight. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 23 
 
 XL. 
 
 Tingle the fire-ir'ns, poker, tongs, and grate, 
 
 Responsive to the blithesome melody; 
 The tables and the chairs inanimate 
 
 Wish they had muscles now to trip it high ; 
 Wave back and forwards at a wondrous rate, 
 
 The window-curtains, touch'd with sympathy ; 
 Fork, knife, and trencher, almost break their sloth, 
 And caper on their ends upon the table-cloth. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 How then could Maggie, sprightly, smart, and young, 
 Withstand that bagpipe's blithe awak'ning air ? 
 
 She, as her ear-drum caught the sounds, up-sprung 
 Like lightning, and despis'd her idle chair, 
 
 And into all the dance's graces flung 
 
 The bounding members of her body fair : 
 
 From nook to nook through all her room she tript, 
 
 And whirl'd like whirligig, and reel'd, and bobb'd, and 
 skipt. 
 
24 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLIL 
 
 At last the little piper ceas'd to play, 
 
 And deftly bow'd, and said, " My dear, goodnight ; 
 Then in a smoke evanish'd clean away, 
 
 With all his gaudy apparatus bright. 
 As breaks soap-bubble, which a boy in play 
 
 Blows from his short tobacco-pipe aright, 
 So broke poor Puck from view, and on the spot 
 Y-smoking aloes-reek he left his mustard-pot. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Whereat the furious Lady's wriggling feet 
 
 Forgot to patter in such pelting wise, 
 And down she gladly sunk upon her seat, 
 
 Fatigued and panting from her exercise. 
 She sat, and mus'd a while, as it was meet, 
 
 On what so late had occupied her eyes ; 
 Then to her bed-room went, and doff'd her gown, 
 And laid upon her couch her charming person down. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 25 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Some say that Maggie slept so sound that night, 
 As never she had slept since she was born ; 
 
 But sure am I, that, thoughtful of the sprite, 
 She twenty times upon her bed did turn ; 
 
 For still appeared to stand before her sight 
 The gaudy goblin, glorious from his urn, 
 
 And still, within the cavern of her ear, 
 
 Th' injunction echoing rung, so strict and strange to hear. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 But when the silver-harness'd steeds, that draw 
 The car of morning up th' empyreal height, 
 
 Had snorted day upon North-Berwick Law, 
 
 And from their glist'ring loose manes toss'd the light, 
 
 Immediately from bed she rose, (such awe 
 
 Of Tommy press' d her soul with anxious weight,) 
 
 And donn'd her tissued fragrant morning vest, 
 
 And to fulfil his charge her earliest care addrest. 
 
26 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Straight to her house she tarried not to call 
 Her messengers and heralds swift of foot, 
 
 Men skilTd to hop o'er dikes and ditches ; all 
 Gifted with sturdy brazen lungs to boot. 
 
 She bade them halt at every town, and bawl 
 Her proclamation out with mighty bruit, 
 
 Inviting" loud, to Anster loan and Fair, 
 
 The Scottish beaux to jump for her sweet person there. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 They took each man his staff into his hand ; 
 
 They button'd round their bellies close their coats ; 
 They flew divided through the frozen land ; 
 
 Were never seen such swiftly-trav'lling Scots ! 
 Nor ford, slough, mountain, could their speed withstand; 
 
 Such fleetness have the men that feed on oats ! 
 They skirr'd, they flounder'd thro' the sleets and snows, 
 And puff'd against the winds, that bit in spite each nose. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 27 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 They halted at each wall-fenc'd town renown'd, 
 
 And ev'ry lesser borough of the nation ; 
 And with the trumpet's welkin-rifting sound-, 
 
 And tuck of drum of loud reverberation,, 
 Towards the four wings of heav'n, they, round and round, 
 
 Proclaim'd in Stentor-like vociferation, 
 That, on th' approaching day of Anster market, 
 Should merry sports be held : — Hush ! listen now and 
 hark it ! — 
 
 XLIX. 
 " Ho ! beaux and pipers, wits and jumpers, ho ! 
 
 Ye buxom blades that like to kiss the lasses ; 
 Ye that are skilFd sew'd up in sacks to go ; 
 
 Ye that excel in horsemanship of asses ; 
 Ye that are smart at telling tales, and know 
 
 On Rhime's two stilts to crutch it up Parnassus ; 
 Ho ! lads, your sacks, pipes, asses, tales, prepare 
 To jump, play, ride, and rhime, at Anster loan and 
 Fair ! 
 
28 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 L. 
 
 " First, on the green turf shall each ass draw nigh, 
 
 Caparison'd or clouted for the race, 
 With mounted rider, sedulous to ply 
 
 Cudgel or whip, and win the foremost place. 
 Next shall th' advent'rous men, that dare to try 
 
 Their bodies' springiness in hempen case, 
 Put on their bags, and, with ridic'lous bound, 
 And sweat, and huge turmoil, pass lab'ring o'er the 
 ground. 
 
 LI. 
 " Then shall the pipers, gentlemen o' the drone, 
 
 Their pipes in gleesome competition screw, 
 And grace, with loud solemnity of groan, 
 
 Each his invented tune to th' audience new. 
 Last shall each witty bard, to whom is known 
 
 The craft of Helicon's rhime-jingling crew, 
 His story tell in good poetic strains, 
 And make his learned tongue the midwife to his brains. 
 
 6 
 
CANTO FIRST. 29 
 
 LII. 
 
 " And he whose tongue the wittiest tale shall tell, 
 
 Whose bagpipe shall the sweetest tune resound, 
 Whose heels, tho' clogg'd with sack, shall jump it well^ 
 
 Whose ass shall foot with fleetest hoof the ground ; 
 He who from all the rest shall bear the bell, 
 
 With victory in every trial crown'd, 
 He (mark it, lads !) to Maggie Lauder's house 
 That self same night shall go, and take her for his 
 spouse." — 
 
 LIIL 
 Here ceas'd the criers of the sturdy lungs ; 
 
 But here the gossip Fame (whose body's pores 
 Are nought but open ears and babbling tongues, 
 
 That gape and wriggle on her hide in scores) 
 
 Began to jabber o'er each city's throngs, 
 
 Blaz'ning the news through all the Scottish shores ; 
 
 * 
 Nor had she blabb'd, methinks, so stoutly, since 
 
 Queen Dido's peace was broke by Troy's love- truant 
 
 Prince. 
 
 D 
 
30 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 In every Lowland vale and Highland glen, 
 
 She nois'd th' approaching fun of Anster Fair : 
 
 Ev'n when in sleep were laid the sons of men, 
 Snoring away on good chaff beds their care, 
 
 You might have heard her faintly murm'ring then, 
 For lack of audience, to the midnight air, 
 
 That from Fife's East Nook up to farthest Stornoway, 
 
 Fair Maggie's loud report most rapidly was borne away, 
 
 LV. 
 
 And soon the mortals, that design to strive 
 
 By meritorious jumping for the prize, 
 Train up their bodies, ere the day arrive, 
 
 To th' lumpish sack-encumber'd exercise : 
 You might have seen no less than four or five 
 
 Hobbling in each town-loan in awkward guise. 
 E'en little boys, when from the school let out, 
 Mimick'd the bigger beaux, and leap'd in pokes about. 
 
 I 
 
CANTO FIRST. oJ 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Through cots and granges, with industrious foot, 
 By laird and knight were light-heel'd asses sought, 
 
 So that no ass of any great repute, 
 
 For twenty Scots marks could have then been bought; 
 
 Nor e'er, before or since, the long-ear d brute 
 Was such a goodly acquisition thought. 
 
 The pipers vex'd their ears and pipes, t' invent 
 
 Some tune that might the taste of Anster Mag content. 
 
 LVIL 
 
 Each poet, too, whose lore-manured brain 
 Is hot of soil, and sprouts up mushroom wit, 
 
 Ponder'd his noddle into extreme pain, 
 T' excogitate some story nice and fit. 
 
 When rack'd had been his scull some hours in vain, 
 He, to relax his mind a little bit, 
 
 Plung'd deep into a sack his precious body, 
 
 And school'd it for the race, and hopp'd around his study. 
 
32 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LVIIL 
 
 Such was the sore preparatory care 
 
 Of all th' ambitious that for April sigh : 
 
 Nor sigh the young alone for Anster Fair ; 
 Old men and wives, erewhile content to die, 
 
 Who hardly can forsake their easy-chair, 
 To take, abroad, farewell of sun and sky, 
 
 With new desire of life now glowing, pray 
 
 That they may just o'erlive our famous market-day 
 
ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 D2 
 
ANSTER FAIR 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 I. 
 
 Last night I dream'd, that to my dark bedside 
 Came, white with rays, the poet of the e€ Quhair," 
 
 And drew my curtain silently aside, 
 And stood and smil'd, majestically fair : 
 
 He to my finger then a ring applied, 
 (It glitter d like Aurora's yellow hair,) 
 
 And gave his royal head a pleasant wag, 
 
 And said, Go on, my boy, and celebrate thy Mag ! 
 
36 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 II. 
 
 The sun, upcharioting from Capricorn, 
 
 Had 'tween the Ram's horns thrust his gilded nose ; 
 And now his bright fist drops, each April morn, 
 
 O'er hill and dale, the daisy and the rose : 
 Wantons the lewd Earth with the god unshorn, 
 
 And from her womb the infant verdure throws, 
 Whilst he, good paramour ! leaves Tithy's valley 
 Each morn by five o'clock, with her to sport and dally, 
 
 in. 
 
 Old Kelly-law, the kindly nurse of sheep, 
 Puts on her daisy-tissued gown of green : 
 
 On all her slopes so verdurous and steep, 
 The bleating children of the flock are seen ; 
 
 While with a heart where mirth and pleasure keep 
 Their dwelling, and with honest brow serene, 
 
 The shepherd eyes his flock in mood of glee, 
 
 And wakes with oaten pipe the echoes of Carnbee. 
 
 
CANTO SECOND. 37 
 
 IV. 
 
 And see how Airdrie woods upshoot on high 
 
 Their leafy living glories to the day, 
 As if they long'd t' embrace the vaulty sky 
 
 With their long branchy arms so green and gay ! 
 Balcarras-craig, so rough, and hard, and dry, 
 
 Enliven'd into beauty by the ray, 
 Heaves up, bedeck'd with flowers, his ruffian side, 
 Like giant hung with gawds, and boasts his tricksy pride. 
 
 V. 
 
 Ev'n on the King's-muir jigs the jolly Spring, 
 Scattering from whin to whin the new perfume ; 
 
 While, near the sea-coast, Flora tarrying, 
 Touches the garden's parterres into bloom. 
 
 With joy the villages and cities ring ; 
 
 Cowherd and cow rejoice, and horse and groom ; 
 
 The ploughman laughs amid his joyous care, 
 
 And Anster burghers laugh in prospect of their Fair. 
 
38 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For lo ! now peeping just above the vast 
 
 Vault of the German Sea, in east afar, 
 Appears full many a brig's and schooner's mast, 
 
 Their topsails strutting with the vernal harr.* 
 Near and more near they come, and show at last 
 
 Their ocean- thumping hulks, all black with tar ; 
 Their stems are pointed toward Anster pier, 
 While, flying o'er their sterns, the well-known flags 
 appear. 
 
 VII. 
 From clear-sky'd France and muddy Zuyder Zee 
 
 They come, replenish'd with the stores of trade ; 
 Some from the Hollander of lumpish knee 
 
 Convey his lintseed, stow'd in bag or cade ; 
 Heav'n bless him ! may his breeches countless be, 
 
 And warm, and thick, and ever undecay'd ! 
 For he it was that first supplied the Scots 
 With linen for their sarks, and stout frieze for their coats. 
 
 * The harr is the name given by the fishermen to that gentle 
 breeze which generally blows from the east in a fine spring or 
 summer afternoon. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 39 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Some bring, in many an anker hooped strong, 
 From Flushing's port, the palate-biting gin, 
 
 Th' inspirer of the tavern's noisy song, 
 The top-delight, the nectar of each inn, 
 
 That sends a-bounding through the veins along 
 The loit'ring blood when frosty days begin, 
 
 The bev'rage wherein fiddlers like to nuzzle, 
 
 The gauger's joy to seize, and old wife's joy to guzzle ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Some from Garonne and bonny banks of Seine 
 Transport in pipes the blood of Bacchus' berry, 
 
 Wherewith our lairds may fume the fuddled brain, 
 And grow, by bousing, boisterously meny ; 
 
 And whereby, too, their cheeks a glow may gain, 
 Abashing ev'n the red of July's cherry. 
 
 O, it is right ; our lairds do well, I ween : 
 
 A bottle of black wine is worth all Hippocrene. 
 
40 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 X. 
 
 Soon, hurried forward by the skittish gales, 
 In Anster harbour every vessel moors ; 
 
 Furl'd by the seamen are the flapping sails ; 
 Fix'd are the halsers to the folk-clad shores ; 
 
 Their holds discharge the wealth of Gallia's vales, 
 And Amsterdam's and Flushing's useful stores, 
 
 All to augment, with commerce' various ware, 
 
 The bustle and the trade of famous Anster Fair. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Nor distant now the day : the cream-fac'd sun, * 
 That, rising, shall engild to-morrow's air, 
 
 Shall shine with courteous beams upon the fun 
 And frolic of the celebrated Fair ; 
 
 And now, already, have the folk begun, 
 (So eager are they the delight to share,) 
 
 In flocks to Maggie's borough to resort, 
 
 That they may all, betimes, be present at the sport. 
 
 * Anster Lintseed Market (as it is called) is on the 11th of 
 April, or on one of the six days immediately succeeding. 
 
 6 
 
CANTO SECOND. 41 
 
 XII. 
 
 Each hedge-lin'd highway of the king, that leads 
 
 Or straightly or obliquely to the loan. 
 Seems, as the Muse looks downwards, pav'd with heads^ 
 
 And hats and cowls of those that bustle on. 
 From Johnny Groat's House to the border-meads, 
 
 From isle of Arran to the mouth of Don, 
 In thousands puffingly to Fife they run, 
 Gold in their pockets lodg'd, and in their noddles fun, 
 
 XIII. 
 Say, Muse, who first, who last, on foot or steed, 
 
 Came candidates for Maggie to her town ? 
 St Andrew's sprightly students first proceed, 
 
 Clad in their foppery of sleeveless gown : 
 Forth whistling from Salvador's gate they speed, 
 
 Full many a mettlesome and fiery lown, 
 Forgetting Horace for a while and Tully, 
 And mad t' embag their limbs, and leap it beautifully. 
 
 E 
 
42 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 For ev'n in Learning's cobweb'd halls had rung 
 The loud report of Maggie Lauder's fame, 
 
 And Pedantry's Greek-conning sapient tongue 
 In songs had wagg'd, in honour of her name ; 
 
 Up from their mouldy books and tasks had sprung 
 Bigent and Magistrand to try the game ; 
 
 Prelections ceas'd ; old Alma Mater slept, 
 
 And o'er his silent rooms the ghost of Wardlaw wept. 
 
 XV. 
 
 So down in troops the red-clad students come, 
 As kittens blithe, a joke-exchanging crew, 
 
 And in their heads bear learned Greece and Rome, 
 And haply Cyprus in their bodies too : 
 
 Some on their journey pipe and play ; and some 
 Talk long of Mag, how fair she was to view, 
 
 And as they talk (ay me ! so much the sadder), 
 
 Backwards they scale the steps of honest Plato's ladder.* 
 
 * The Student wishing to understand this Ladder may consult 
 Plato. Conviv. torn. iii. page 211 of Serrani's edit. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 43 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Others, their heels of weariness to cheat, 
 
 Repeated tales of classic merriment, 
 How the fool Faunus, on his noiseless feet, 
 
 At midnight to the cave of Tmolus went, 
 Scorch'd as he was with Venus' fiercest heat, 
 
 On cuckold-making mischievous intent, 
 Till, from the horny fist of hairy Hercules, 
 He got upon the cheek a most confounded jerk, alas ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Nor come they only down : in chaise or gig 
 Th' endoctrin'd sage professors lolling ride, 
 
 Their heads with curl'd vastidity of wig 
 
 Thatch'd round and round, and queerly beautified ; 
 
 In silken hose is sheath'd each learned leg ; 
 White are their cravats, long and trimly tied. 
 
 Some say they came to jump for Maggie too, 
 
 But college-records say they came the sport to view. 
 
44 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 See, as their coach wheels scour the Eastburn-lane, 
 Rattling as if the pavement up to tear ! 
 
 How men and women, huddling" in their train, 
 And hallooing shouts of loud applause appear ! 
 
 Red-cheek'd and white-cheek'd, stout and feeble men, 
 With staff or staff-less, draw to Anster near; 
 
 And such a mob come trampling o'er King's-muir, 
 
 They raise a cloud of dust that does the sun obscure. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Next, from Denino's every house and hut, 
 
 Her simple guileless people hie away : 
 That day the doors of parish-school were shut, 
 
 And every scholar got his leave to play. 
 Down rush they, light of heart and light of foot, 
 
 Big plowmen, in their coats of hodden gray, 
 Weavers despising now both web and treadle, 
 Collier and collier's wife, and minister and beadle. 
 
CANTO SECOND. M 
 
 XX. 
 
 Next, from the well-air'd ancient town of Crail, 
 Go out her craftsmen with tumultuous din, 
 
 Her wind-bleach'd fishers, sturdy-limb'd and hale, 
 Her in-kneed tailors, garrulous and thin ; 
 
 And some are flush'd with horns of pithy ale, 
 And some are fierce with drams of smuggled gin, 
 
 While, to augment his drowth, each to his jaws 
 
 A good Crail capon* holds, at which he rugs and gnaws. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And from Kingsbarns and hamlet t clep'd of boars, 
 And farms around (their names too long to add), 
 
 Sally the villagers and hinds in scores, 
 
 Tenant and laird, and hedger, hodden-clad. 
 
 Bolted are all the East-nook houses' doors ; 
 
 Ev'n toothless wives pass westward, strangely glad, 
 
 Propping their trem'lous limbs on oaken stay, 
 
 And in their red plaids drest, as if 'twere Sabbath-day. 
 
 * A Crail capon is a dried haddock. -J* Boarhills. 
 
 E2 
 
46 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And barefoot lasses, on whose ruddy face 
 Unfurl'd is health's rejoicing banner seen, 
 
 Trick'd in their Sunday mutches edg'd with lace, 
 Tippets of white, and frocks of red and green, 
 
 Come tripping o'er the roads with jocund pace, 
 Gay as May-morning, tidy, gim, and clean, 
 
 Whilst, joggling at each wench's side, her joe 
 
 Cracks many a rustic joke, his pow'r of wit to show. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Then, jostling forward on the western road, 
 Approach the folk of wind-swept Pittenweem, 
 
 So num'rous, that the highways, long and broad, 
 One waving field of gowns and coat-tails seem. 
 
 The fat man puffing goes, opprest with load 
 Of cumbrous flesh and corpulence extreme ; 
 
 The lean man bounds along, and with his toes 
 
 Smites on the fat man's heels, that slow before him goes. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 47 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 St Monance, Elie, and adjacent farms, 
 
 Turn their mechanics, fishers, farmers out ; 
 
 Sun-burnt and shoeless schoolboys rush in swarms, 
 With childish trick, and revelry and shout ; 
 
 Mothers bear little children in their arms, 
 Attended by their giggling* daughters stout ; 
 
 Clowns, cobblers, cotters, tanners, weavers, beaux, 
 
 Hurry and hop along in clusters and in rows. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And every husbandman round Largo-law 
 
 Hath scrap'd his huge-wheel'd dung- cart fair and 
 clean, 
 
 Wherein, on sacks stufTd full of oaten straw, 
 Sits the Goodwife, Tam, Katey, Jock, and Jean. 
 
 In flow'rs and ribbands drest, the horses draw 
 Stoutly their creaking cumbersome machine, 
 
 As on his cart-head sits the Goodman proud, 
 
 And cheerily cracks his whip, and whistles clear and 
 loud. 
 
48 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Then from her coal-pits Dysart vomits forth 
 
 Her subterranean men of colour dun, 
 Poor human mouldwarps ! doom'd to scrape in earth, 
 
 Cimmerian people, strangers to the sun ! 
 Gloomy as soot, with faces grim and swarth, 
 
 They march, most sourly leering every one, 
 Yet very keen, at Anster loan, to share 
 The merriments and sports to be accomplish'd there. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Nor did Pathhead detain her wrangling race 
 Of weavers, toiling at their looms for bread : 
 
 For now their slippery shuttles rest a space 
 
 From flying through their labyrinths of thread ; 
 
 Their treadle-shaking feet now scour apace 
 Through Gallowtown with levity of tread : 
 
 So on they pass, with sack in hand, full bent 
 
 To try their sinews' strength in dire experiment. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 49 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 And long Kirkaldy, from each dirty street, 
 Her num'rous population eastward throws : 
 
 Her roguish boys with bare unstocking'd feet ; 
 Her rich ship-owners, gen'rous and jocose ; 
 
 Her prosp'rous merchants, sober and discreet ; 
 Her coxcombs pantaloon'd, and powder'd beaux ; 
 
 Her pretty lasses tripping on their great toes, 
 
 With foreheads white as milk, or any boil'd potatoes. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And from Kinghorn jump hastily along 
 Her ferrymen and poor inhabitants: — 
 
 And th' upland hamlet, * where, as told in song, 
 Tarn Lutar play'd of yore his lively rants, 
 
 Is left dispeopled of her brose-fed throng, 
 For eastward scud they now as thick as ants. 
 
 Dunfermline, too, so fam'd for checks and ticks, 
 
 Sends out her loom-bred men, with bags and walking- 
 sticks. 
 
 * Leslie. 
 
50 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And market-maids, and apron'd wives, that bring 
 
 Their gingerbread in baskets to the Fair ; 
 And cadgers with their creels, that hang by string 
 
 From their lean horse-ribs, rubbing off the hair ; 
 And crook-legg'd cripples, that on crutches swing 
 
 Their shabby persons with a noble air ; 
 And fiddlers with their fiddles in their cases, 
 And packmen with their packs of ribbons, gauze, and 
 laces. 
 
 XXXI. 
 And from Kinross, whose dusty streets unpav'd 
 
 Are whirFd through heav'n on summer's windy day, 
 Whose plats of cabbage-bearing ground are lav'd 
 
 By Leven's waves, that clear as crystal play, 
 Jog her brisk burghers, spruce and cleanly shav'd, 
 
 Her sullen cutlers and her weavers gay, 
 Her ploughboys in their botch'd and clumsy jackets, 
 Her clowns with cobbled shoon stuck full of iron tackets. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 51 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Next ride on sleek- maned horses, bay or brown, 
 Smacking their whips and spurring bloodily, 
 
 The writers of industrious Cupar town, 
 Good social mortals, skilled the pen to ply. 
 
 Lo ! how their garments, as they gallop down, 
 Waving behind them in the breezes fly ; 
 
 As upward spurn'd to heavVs blue bending roof, 
 
 Dash'd is the dusty road from every bounding hoof. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And clerks with ruffled shirts and frizzled hairs, 
 Their tassel'd half-boots clear as looking-glass, 
 
 And sheriffs learn'd, and unlearn'd sheriff-mairs, 
 And messengers-at-arms, with brows of brass, 
 
 Come strutting down, or single or in pairs, 
 Some on high horse and some on lowly ass; 
 
 With blacksmiths, barbers, butchers, and their brats, 
 
 And some had new hats on, and some came wanting hats. 
 
52 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Astraddle on their proud steeds full of fire, 
 From all the tree-girt country-seats around, 
 
 Comes many a huffy, many a kindly squire, 
 In showy garb, worth many a silver pound ; 
 
 While close behind, in livery's base attire, 
 
 Follows poor lackey with small-bellied hound, 
 
 Carrying, upon his shoulders slung, the bag 
 
 Wherein his master means to risk his neck for Mag. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 From all her lanes and alleys, fair Dundee 
 
 Has sent her happy citizens away; 
 They come with meikle jolliment and glee, 
 
 Crossing in clumsy boat their shallow Tay ; 
 Their heads are bonneted most fair to see, 
 
 And of the tartan is their back's array. 
 From Perth, Dunkeld, from Brechin, Forfar, Glams, 
 Roll down the sweaty crowds, with wearied legs and 
 
 hams. 
 
 5 
 
CANTO SECOND. 53 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 And from the Mearnshire, and from Aberdeen., 
 Where knit by many a wench is many a stocking ; 
 
 From Banff and Murray, where of old were seen 
 The witches by the chief so fain to grow king, 
 
 Descend, in neckless coats brush'd smooth and clean, 
 And eke with long pipes in their mouths a-smoking, 
 
 The northern people, boisterous and rough, 
 
 Bearing both chin and nose bedaub'd with spilth of snuff. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Comes next from Ross-shire, and from Sutherland, 
 The horny-knuckled kilted Highlandman : 
 
 From where upon the rocky Caithness strand 
 Breaks the long wave that at the Pole began, 
 
 And where Lochfyne from her prolific sand 
 Her herrings gives to feed each bord'ring clan, 
 
 Arrive the brogue-shod men of gen'rous eye, 
 
 Plaided, and breechless all, with Esau's hairy thigh. 
 
 F 
 
54 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 They come not now to fire the Lowland stacks, 
 Or foray on the banks of Fortha's firth ; 
 
 Claymore, and broad-sword, and Lochaber-axe, 
 Are left to rust above the smoky hearth ; 
 
 Their only arms are bagpipes now, and sacks ; 
 Their teeth are set most desp'rately for mirth ; 
 
 And at their broad and sturdy backs are hung 
 
 Great wallets, cramm'd with cheese and bannocks, and 
 
 cold tongue. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Nor staid away the Islanders, that lie 
 To buffet of th' Atlantic surge expos'd : 
 
 From Jura, Arran, Earra, Uist, and Skye, 
 
 Piping they come, unshav'd, unbreech'd, unhos'd ; 
 
 And from that Isle, whose abbey, structur'd high, 
 Within its precincts holds dead kings enclos'd, 
 
 Where St Columba oft is seen to waddle, 
 
 Gown'd round with flaming fire, upon the spire astraddle. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 53 
 
 XL, 
 
 Next from the far-fam'd ancient town of Ayr, 
 (Sweet Ayr ! with crops of ruddy damsels blest, 
 
 That, shooting up, and waxing fat and fair, 
 Shine on thy braes the lilies of the west,) 
 
 And from Dumfries, and from Kilmarnock (where 
 Are nightcaps made, the cheapest and the best), 
 
 Blithely they ride on ass and mule, with sacks 
 
 In lieu of saddles placed upon their asses' backs. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Close at their heels, bestriding well-strapp'd nag, 
 Or humbly riding ass's backbone bare, 
 
 Come Glasgow's merchants, each with money-bag, 
 To purchase Dutch lintseed at Anster Fair ; 
 
 Sagacious fellows all, who well may brag 
 Of virtuous industry and talents rare ; 
 
 Th' accomplish'd men o' the counting-room confest, 
 
 And fit to crack a joke or argue with the best. 
 
56 
 
 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Nor keep their homes the Borderers, that stay 
 Where purls the Jed, and Esk, and little Liddel, 
 
 Men that can rarely on the bagpipe play, 
 And wake th* unsober spirit of the fiddle ; 
 
 Avow'd freebooters, that have many a day 
 
 Stoln sheep and cow, yet never own'd they did ill ; 
 
 Great rogues, for sure that wight is but a rogue, 
 
 That blots the eighth command from Moses' decalogue. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And some of them in sloop of tarry side 
 
 Come from North-Berwick harbour sailing out ; 
 
 Others, abhorrent of the sick'ning tide, 
 
 Have ta'en the road by Stirling brig about, 
 
 And eastward now from long Kirkaldy ride, 
 Slugging on their slow-gaited asses stout, 
 
 While dangling at their backs are bagpipes hung, 
 
 And dangling hangs a tale on ev'ry rhimer's tongue. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 57 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Amid them rides, on lofty ass sublime, 
 
 With cadger-like sobriety of canter, 
 In purple lustihood of youthful prime, 
 
 Great in his future glory, Rob the Ranter; 
 (I give the man what name in little time 
 
 He shall acquire from pipe and drone, and chanter ;) 
 He comes apparell'd like a trim bridegroom, 
 Fiery and flushed with hope, and like a god in bloom. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 No paltry vagrant piper-carle is he, 
 
 Whose base-bribed drone whiffs out its wind for hire, 
 Who, having stroll'd all day for penny-fee, 
 
 Couches at night with oxen in the byre : 
 Rob is a Border laird of good degree, 
 
 A many-acred, clever, jolly squire, 
 One born and shap'd to shine and make a figure, 
 And bless'd with supple limbs to jump with wondrous 
 vigour. 
 
 F2 
 
58 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLVL 
 
 His waggish face, that speaks a soul jocose, 
 
 Seems t' have been cast i' the mould of fun and glee, 
 
 And on the bridge of his well-arched nose 
 
 Sits Laughter plum'd, and white- wing'd Jollity ; 
 
 His manly chest a breadth heroic shows ; 
 Bold is his gesture, dignified and free ; 
 
 Ev'n as he smites with lash his ass's hip, 
 
 'Tis with a seemly grace he whirls his glitt'ring whip. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 His coat is of the flashy Lincoln green, 
 With silver buttons of the prettiest mould ; 
 
 Each buttonhole and skirt and hem is seen 
 Sparkishly edg'd with lace of yellow gold ; 
 
 His breeches of the velvet smooth and clean, 
 Are very fair and goodly to behold ; 
 
 So on he rides, and let him e'en ride on ; 
 
 We shall again meet Rob to-morrow at the loan. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 59 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 But mark his ass ere off he ride : some say 
 
 He got him from a pilgrim lady fair, 
 Who, landing once on Joppa's wave-worn quay, 
 
 Had bought him of Armenian merchant there, 
 And prest his padded pack, and rode away 
 
 To snuff devotion in with Syria's air ; 
 Then brought him home in hold of stout Levanter,* 
 All for the great good luck of honest Rob the Ranter. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Along Fife's western roads, behold, how hie 
 The travel-sweltry crowds to Anster loan, 
 
 Shaded o'erhead with clouds of dust, that fly, 
 Tarnishing heav'n with darkness not its own ! 
 
 And scarcely can the Muse's lynx-sharp eye 
 
 Scan, through the dusty nuisance upward blown, 
 
 The ruddy plaids, black hats, and bonnets blue, 
 
 Of those that rush below, a motley- vestur'd crew ! 
 
 * Ship trading to and from the Levant, so called by seamen. 
 
60 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 L. 
 
 Nor only was the land with crowds opprest, 
 
 That trample forward to th' expected Fair : 
 The harass'd ocean had no peace or rest, 
 
 So many keels her foamy bosom tear ; 
 For, into view, now sailing from the west, 
 
 With streamers idling in the bluish air, 
 Appear the painted pleasure-boats unleaky, 
 Charg'd with a precious freight, — the good folks of Auld 
 Reekie. 
 
 LI. 
 They come, the cream and now'r of all the Scots, 
 
 The children of politeness, science, wit, 
 Exulting in their bench'd and gaudy boats, 
 
 Wherein some joking and some puking sit. 
 Proudly the pageantry of carvels floats, 
 
 As if the salt sea frisk'd to carry it ; 
 The gales vie emulous their sails to wag, 
 And dally as in love with each long gilded flag. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 6l 
 
 LIL 
 
 Upon the benches seated, I descry 
 
 Her gentry; knights, and lairds, and long-naiTd fops; 
 Her advocates and signet- writers sly ; 
 
 Her gen'rous merchants, faithful to their shops ; 
 Her lean-cheek'd tetchy critics, who, O fie ! 
 
 Hard-retching, spue upon the sails and ropes ; 
 Her lovely ladies, with their lips like rubies ; 
 Her fiddlers, fuddlers, fools, bards, blockheads, black- 
 guards, boobies. 
 
 LIII. 
 And red-prow'd fisher-boats afar are spied 
 
 In south-east, tilting o'er the jasper main, 
 Whose wing-like oars, dispread on either side, 
 
 Now swoop on sea, now rise in sky again. 
 They come not now with herring-nets supplied, 
 
 Or barbed lines to twitch the haddock train, 
 But with the townsfolk of Dunbar are laden, 
 Who burn to see the Fair, — man, stripling, wife, and 
 maiden. 
 
62 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LIV. 
 And many a Dane, with ringlets long and red, 
 
 And many a starved Norwegian, lank and brown, 
 (For over seas the fame of Mag had spread 
 
 Afar from Scandinavian town to town,) 
 Maugre the risk of drowning, and the dread 
 
 Of krakens, isles of fish of droll renown, 
 Have dar'd to cross the ocean, and now steer 
 Their long outlandish skiffs dix*ect on Anster pier. 
 
 LV. 
 Forward they scud ; and soon each pleasure-barge, 
 
 And fisher-boats, and skiffs so slim and lax, 
 On shore their various passengers discharge, 
 
 Some hungry, queasy some and white as flax ; 
 Lightly they bound upon the beach's verge, 
 
 Glad to unbend their stiffen'd houghs and backs. 
 But who is that, O Muse, with lofty brow, 
 That from his lacker'd boat is just forth-stepping now ? 
 
CANTO SECOND. 6$ 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Thou fool ! (for I have ne'er since Bavins' days 
 Had such a dolt to dictate to as thou,,) 
 
 Dost thou not know, by that eye's kingly rays. 
 And by the arch of that celestial brow, 
 
 And by the grace his ev'ry step displays, 
 
 And by the crowds that round him duck and bow, 
 
 That that is good King James, the merriest Monarch 
 
 That ever sceptre sway'd since Xoah steer'd his own ark? 
 
 LVII. 
 For as he in his house of Holyrood 
 
 Of late was keeping jovially his court, 
 The gipsy Fame beside his window stood, 
 
 And hollow'd in his ear fair Mag's report. 
 The Monarch laugh'd, for to his gamesome mood 
 
 Accorded well th' anticipated sport ; 
 So here he comes, with lord and lady near, 
 Stepping with regal stride up Anster's eastern pier. 
 
64 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 But mark you, boy, how in a loyal ring 
 (As does obedient subjects well become) 
 
 Fife's hospitable lairds salute their King, 
 And kiss his little finger or his thumb : 
 
 That done, their liege lord they escorting bring 
 To Anster House,* that he may eat a crumb; 
 
 Where in the stucco'd hall they sit and dine, 
 
 And into tenfold joy bedrench their blood with wine. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Some with the ladies in the chambers ply 
 
 Their bounding elasticity of heel, 
 Evolving, as they trip it whirlingly, 
 
 The merry mazes of th' entangled reel. 
 'Tween roof and floor, they fling, they flirt, they fly, 
 
 Their garments swimming round them as they wheel; 
 The rafters creak beneath the dance's clatter ; 
 Tremble the solid walls with feet that shake and patter. 
 
 * Anster House was destroyed to its foundation in 1811. 
 
 1 
 
CANTO SECOND. 65 
 
 LX. 
 
 Some (wiser they), resolved on drinking-bout, 
 The wines of good Sir John englut amain ; 
 
 Their glasses soon are fill'd, and soon drunk out, 
 And soon are bumper'd to the brim again. 
 
 Certes that laird is but a foolish lout, 
 
 Who does not fuddle now with might and main ; 
 
 For gen'rous is their host, and, by my sooth, 
 
 Was never better wine applied to Scottish mouth. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 With might and main they fuddle and carouse ; 
 
 Each glass augments their thirst, and keens their wit ; 
 They swill, they swig, they take a hearty rouse, 
 
 Cheering their flesh with Bacchus' benefit, 
 Till, by and by, the windows of the house 
 
 Go dizzily whirling round them where they sit : 
 And, had you seen the sport, and heard the laughing, 
 You'd thought that all Jove's gods in Anster House 
 sat quaffing. 
 
 G 
 
66 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Not such a wassail, famed for social glee, 
 In Shushan's gardens long ago was held, 
 
 When Ahasuerus, by a blithe decree, 
 
 His turban'd satraps to the bouse compell'd, 
 
 And bagg'd their Persian paunches with a sea 
 Of wine, that from his carved gold they swill'd, 
 
 Whilst overhead was stretch'd (a gorgeous show !) 
 
 Blue blankets, silver-starr'd, a heaven of calico. 
 
 LXIII. 
 Nor less is the disport and joy without, 
 
 In Anster town and loan, through all the throng : 
 Tis but one vast tumultuous jovial rout, 
 
 Tumult of laughing, and of gabbling strong ; 
 Thousands and tens of thousands reel about, 
 
 With joyous uproar blustering along ; 
 Elbows push boringly on sides with pain, 
 Wives hustling come on wives, and men dash hard on 
 men. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 67 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 There lacks no sport. Tumblers, in wondrous pranks, 
 
 High-staged, display their limbs' agility ; 
 And now, they, mountant from the scaffold's planks, 
 
 Kick with their whirling heels the clouds on high, 
 And now, like cat, upon their dextrous shanks 
 
 They light, and of new monsters cheat the sky ; 
 Whilst motley Merry- Andrew, with his jokes, 
 Wide through th' incorp'rate mob the bursting laugh 
 provokes. 
 
 LXV. 
 Others upon the green, in open air, 
 
 Enact the best of Davie Lindsay's plays ; 
 While ballad-singing women do not spare 
 
 Their throats, to give good utt'rance to their lays ; 
 And many a leather-lung'd co-chanting pair 
 
 Of wood-legg'd sailors, children's laugh and gaze, 
 Lift to the courts of Jove their voices loud, 
 Y-hymning their mishaps, to please the heedless crowd. 
 
68 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Meanwhile the sun, fatigued (as well he may) 
 With shining on a night till seven o'clock, 
 
 Beams on each chimney-head a farewell ray, 
 Illuming into golden shaft its smoke ; 
 
 And now in sea, far west from Oronsay, 
 
 Is dipp'd his chariot- wheel's refulgent spoke, 
 
 And now a section of his face appears, 
 
 And diving, now he ducks clean down o'er head and ears. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Anon uprises, with blithe bagpipe's sound, 
 
 And shriller din of flying fiddlestick, 
 On the green loan and meadow-crofts around, 
 
 A town of tents, with blankets roofed quick : 
 A thousand stakes are rooted in the ground ; 
 
 A thousand hammers clank and clatter thick ; 
 A thousand fiddles squeak and squeal it yare ; 
 A thousand stormy drones out-gasp in groans their air. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 69 
 
 LXVIIL 
 
 And such a turbulence of gen'ral mirth 
 Rises from Anster loan upon the sky, 
 
 That from his throne Jove starts, and down on earth 
 Looks, wond'ring what may be the jollity. 
 
 He roots his eye on shores of Forthan firth, 
 And smerks, as knowing well the market nigh, 
 
 And bids his gods and goddesses look down, 
 
 To mark the rage of joy that maddens Anster town. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 From Cellardyke to wind-swept Pittenweem, 
 
 And from Balhouffie to Kilrennymill, 
 Vaulted with blankets, crofts and meadows seem, 
 
 So many tents the grassy spaces fill : 
 Meantime the Moon, yet leaning on the stream, 
 
 With fluid silver bathes the welkin chill, 
 That now Earth's half-ball, on the side of night, 
 Swims in an argent sea of beautiful moonlight. 
 
 G2 
 
70 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Then to his bed full many a man retires, 
 
 On plume, or chaff, or straw, to get a nap, 
 In houses, tents, in haylofts, stables, byres, 
 
 And or without, or with, a warm night-cap : 
 Yet sleep not all ; for by the social fires 
 
 Sit many, cuddling round their toddy-sap, 
 And ever and anon they eat a lunch, 
 And rinse the mouthfuls down with fiav'rous whisky 
 punch. 
 
 LXXL 
 Some, shuffling paper nothings, keenly read 
 
 The Devil's maxims in his painted books, 
 Till the old serpent in each heart and head 
 
 Spits canker, and with wormwood sours their looks ; 
 Some o'er the chess-board's chequer'd champain lead 
 
 Their inch- tall bishops, kings, and queens, and rooks ; 
 Some force, t' inclose the Tod, the wooden Lamb on ; 
 Some shake the pelting dice upon the broad back- 
 gammon. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 71 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Others of travelled elegance polite, 
 
 With mingling music Maggie's house surround, 
 And serenade her all the live-long night, 
 
 With song and lyre, and flute's enchanting sound, 
 Chiming and hymning into fond delight 
 
 The heavy night-air that o'ershades the ground ; 
 While she, right pensive, in her chamber-nook 
 Sits pondering on th' advice of little Tommy Puck. 
 
ANSTER, FAIR. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
ANSTER FAIR 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 I. 
 
 I wish I had a cottage snug and neat 
 
 Upon the top of many-fountain'd Ide, 
 That I might thence in holy fervour greet 
 
 The bright-gown'd Morning tripping up her side ; 
 And when the low Sun's glory-buskin' d feet 
 
 Walk on the blue wave of th* iEgean tide, 
 O, I would kneel me down, and worship there 
 The God who garnish'd out a world so bright and fair ! 
 
76 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 II. 
 
 The saffron-elbow'd Morning up the slop 
 Of heav'n canaries in her jewelFd shoes, 
 
 And throws o'er Kelly-law's sheep -nibbled top 
 Her golden apron dripping* kindly dews ; 
 
 And never, since she first began to hop 
 
 Up heav'n's blue causeway, of rich beams profuse, 
 
 Shone there a dawn so glorious and so gay 
 
 As shines the merry dawn of Anster Market-day. 
 
 III. 
 
 Round through the vast circumference of sky 
 Scarce can the eye one speck of cloud behold, 
 
 Save in the East some fleeces bright of dye, 
 That hem the rim of heav'n with woolly gold, 
 
 Whereon are happy angels wont to lie 
 Lolling, in amaranthine flow'rs enrolFd, 
 
 That they may spy the precious light of God, 
 
 Flung from the blessed East o'er the fair Earth abroad. 
 
 1 
 
CANTO THIRD. 77 
 
 IV. 
 
 The fair Earth laughs through all her boundless range, 
 Heaving her green hills high to greet the beam ; 
 
 City and village, steeple, cot, and grange, 
 Gilt as with Nature's purest leaf-gold seem ; 
 
 The heaths and upland muirs, and fallows, change 
 Their barren brown into a ruddy gleam, 
 
 And, on ten thousand dew-bent leaves and sprays, 
 
 Twinkle ten thousand suns, and fling their petty rays. 
 
 V. 
 
 Up from their nests and fields of tender corn 
 
 Full merrily the little skylarks spring, 
 And on their dew-bedabbled pinions borne, 
 
 Mount to the heavVs blue key-stone flickering* 
 They turn their plume-soft bosoms to the morn, 
 
 And hail the genial light, and cheerly sing ; 
 Echo the gladsome hills and valleys round, 
 As all the bells of Fife ring loud and swell the sound. 
 
 H 
 
78 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For when the first up-sloping ray was flung 
 On Anster steeple/s swallow-harb'ring top, 
 
 Its bell and all the bells around were rung 
 Sonorous, jangling loud without a stop ; 
 
 For toilingly each bitter beadle swung, 
 
 Ev'n till he smoked with sweat, his greasy rope, 
 
 And almost broke his bell-wheel, ush'ring in 
 
 The morn of Anster Fair, with far-resounding din. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And, from our steeple's pinnacle out-spread, 
 The town's long colours flare and flap on high, 
 
 Whose anchor, blazon'd fair in green and red, 
 Curls, pliant to each breeze that whistles by ; 
 
 Whilst, on the boltsprit, stern, and topmast head 
 Of brig and sloop that in the harbour lie, 
 
 Streams the red gaudery of flags in air, 
 
 All to salute and grace the morn of Anster Fair. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 79 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Forthwith from house and cellar, tent and byre, 
 Roused by the clink of bells that jingle on, 
 
 Uncabin'd, rush the multitude like fire, 
 
 Furious, and squeezing forward to the loan ; * 
 
 The son, impatient, leaves his snail-slow sire ; 
 The daughter leaves her mam to trot alone ; 
 
 So madly leap they, man, wife, girl, and boy, 
 
 As if the senseless Earth they kick'd for very joy. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And such the noise of feet that trampling pass, 
 And tongues that roar and rap from jaw to jaw, 
 
 As if ten thousand chariots, wheel'd with brass, 
 Came hurling down the sides of Largo-law : 
 
 And such the number of the people was, 
 As when in day of Autumn, chill and raw, 
 
 His small clouds Eurus sends, a vap'ry train, 
 
 Streaming in scatterd rack, exhaustless, from the main. 
 
 * Anster loan must, in those days, have been of great extent : 
 at present its limits are contracted almost to the breadth of the 
 highway. 
 
80 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 X. 
 
 For who like arrant slugs can keep their heads 
 In contact with their pillows now unstirr'd ? 
 
 Grandfathers leave their all-year-rumpled beds, 
 With moth-eat breeches now their loins to gird, 
 
 And, drawn abroad on tumbrils and on sleds, 
 
 Chat off their years more blithe than vernal bird : 
 
 Men whom cold agues into leanness freeze, 
 
 Imblanketed walk out, and snuiF the kindly breeze. 
 
 XL 
 
 And flea-bit wives, on whose old arms and cheeks 
 The spoiler Time hath driv'n his furrowing plough. 
 
 Whose cold dry bones have all the winter weeks 
 Hung shivering o'er their chimney's peat-fed glow, 
 
 Now warm and flexible, and lithe as leeks, 
 Wabblingly walk to see the joyous show ; 
 
 What wonder ? when each brick and pavement-stone 
 
 Wish'd it had feet that day to walk to Anster Loan. 
 
CANTO THIRD. SI 
 
 XII. 
 
 Upon a little dappled nag, whose mane 
 
 Seeni'd to have robb'd the steeds of Phaeton, 
 
 Whose bit, and pad, and fairly-fashion' d rein, 
 With silvery adornments richly shone, 
 
 Came Maggie Lauder forth, enwheel'd with train 
 Of knights and lairds around her trotting on : 
 
 At James' right hand she rode, a beauteous Bride, 
 
 That well deserved to go by haughtiest Monarch's side. 
 
 XIII. 
 Her form was as the Morning's blithesome star, 
 That, capp'd with lustrous coronet of beams^ 
 Rides up the dawning orient in her car, 
 
 New-wash'd, and doubly fulgent from the streams ; 
 The Chaldee shepherd eyes her light afar, 
 
 And on his knees adores her as she gleams : 
 So shone the stately form of Maggie Lauder, 
 And so th' admiring crowds pay homage, and applaud 
 her. 
 
 H2 
 
82 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Each little step her trampling palfrey took 
 
 Shaked her majestic person into grace, 
 And as at times his glossy sides she strook 
 
 Endearingly with whip's green silken lace, 
 (The prancer seem'd to court such kind rebuke, 
 
 Loitring with wilful tardiness of pace,) 
 By Jove, the very waving of her arm 
 Had pow'r a brutish lout t' unbrutify and charm ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Her face was as the summer cloud, whereon 
 The dawning sun delights to rest his rays ; 
 
 Compared with it, old Sharon's vale, o'ergrown 
 With flaunting roses, had resign'd its praise ; 
 
 For why ? Her face with Heav'n's own roses shone, 
 Mocking the morn, and witching men to gaze ; 
 
 And he that gazed with cold unsmitten soul, 
 
 That blockhead's heart was ice hewn out beneath the 
 pole. 
 
CANTO THIRD. S3 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Her locks, apparent tufts of wiry gold, 
 Lay on her lily temples, fairly dangling*, 
 
 And on each hair, so harmless to behold, 
 A lover's soul hung mercilessly strangling ; 
 
 The piping silly zephyrs vied t' infold 
 
 The tresses in their arms so slim and tangling, 
 
 And thrid in sport these lover-noosing snares, 
 
 Playing at hide-and-seek amid the golden hairs. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Her eye was as an honour'd palace, where 
 A choir of lightsome Graces frisk and dance ; 
 
 What object drew her gaze, how mean soe'er, 
 Got dignity and honour from the glance. 
 
 Wo to the man on whom she unaware 
 Did the dear witch'ry of her eye elance ! 
 
 'Twas such a thrilling, killing, keen regard — 
 
 May Heav'n from such a look preserve each tender bard ! 
 
84 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Beneath its shading tucker heaved a breast 
 Fashiond to take with ravishment mankind ; 
 
 For never did the flimsy Coan vest 
 
 Hide such a bosom in its gauze of wind : 
 
 Ev'n a pure angel, looking, had confest 
 A sinless transport passing o'er his mind, 
 
 For in the nicest turning-loom of Jove 
 
 Turn'd were these charming hills, t' inspire a holy love. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 So on she rode in virgin majesty, 
 
 Charming the thin dead air to kiss her lips, 
 
 And with the light and grandeur of her eye 
 Shaming the proud sun into dim eclipse ; 
 
 While, round her presence clust'ring far and nigh, 
 On horseback some, with silver spurs and whips. 
 
 And some afoot with shoes of dazzling buckles, 
 
 Attended knights, and lairds, and clowns with horny 
 knuckles. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 85 
 
 XX. 
 
 Not with such crowds surrounded, nor so fair 
 
 In form, rode forth Semiramis of old, 
 On chariot where she sat in iv'ry chair, 
 
 Beneath a sky of carbuncle and gold, 
 When to Euphrates* banks to take the air, 
 
 Or her new rising brick-walls to behold, 
 Abroad she drove, whilst round her wheels were pour'd 
 Satrap, and turban'd squire, and pursy Chaldee lord. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Soon to the Loan came Mag, and from her pad 
 Dismounting with a queen-like dignity, 
 
 (So from his buoyant cloud, man's heart to glad, 
 Lights a bright angel on a hill-top high,) 
 
 On a small mound, with turfy greenness clad, 
 She lit, and walk'd enchantment on the eye ; 
 
 Then on two chairs, that on its top stood ready, 
 
 Down sat the good King James, and Anster's bonny 
 Lady. 
 
86 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Their chairs were finely carved, and overlaid 
 
 With the thin lustre of adorning gold, 
 And o'er their heads a canopy was spread 
 
 Of arras, flower'd with figures manifold, 
 Supported by four boys of silver made, 
 
 Whose glittering hands the vault of cloth uphold. 
 On each side sat or stood, to view the sport, 
 Stout lord and lady fair, the flow'r of Scotland's court. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 On their gilt chairs they scarce had time to sit, 
 When uprose, sudden, from th' applauding mob, 
 
 A shout enough to startle hell, and split 
 The roundness of the granite-ribbed globe : 
 
 The mews of May's steep islet, terror-smit, 
 Clang'd correspondent in a shrill hubbub ; 
 
 And had the Moon then hung above the main, 
 
 Crack'd had that horrid shout her spotted orb in twain. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 87 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Thrice did their shouting make a little pause, 
 That so their lungs might draw recruiting air ; 
 
 Thrice did the stormy tumult of applause 
 
 Shake the Fife woods, and fright the foxes there : 
 
 Sky rattled, and Kilbrachmont's crows and daws, 
 Alarm'd, sung hoarsely o'er their callow care. 
 
 O never, sure, in Fife's town-girdled shire, 
 
 Was heard, before or since, a shout so loud and dire ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Nor ceased th* acclaim when ceased the sound of voice ; 
 
 For fiddlesticks, in myriads, bick'ring fast, 
 Shriek'd on their shrunken guts a shrilling noise ; 
 
 And pipe and drone, with whistle and with blast 
 Consorted, humm'd and squeak'd, and swell'd the joys 
 
 With furious harmony too high to last ; 
 And such a hum of pipe and drone was there, 
 As if on earth men piped, and devils droned in air. 
 
88 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Thus did the crowd, with fiddle, lungs, and drone, 
 Congratulate fair Maggie and their King, 
 
 Till at the last, wide-spreading round the Loan, 
 They form'd of huge circumference a ring, 
 
 Inclosing green space, bare of bush and stone, 
 Where might the asses run, and suitors spring : 
 
 Upon its southmost end, high chair'd, were seen 
 
 The Monarch and the Dame, and overlook'd the green. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Anon the King's stout trumpet blew aloud, 
 
 Silence imposing on the rabble's roar ; 
 Silent as summer sky stood all the crowd ; 
 
 Each bag was strangled, and could snort no more : 
 (So sinks the roaring of the foamy flood, 
 
 When Neptune's clarion twangs from shore to shore:) 
 Then through his trump he bawl'd with such a stress, 
 One might have known his words a mile beyond Craw- 
 ness. — 
 
 1 
 
CANTO THIRD. 89 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Ho ! hark ye, merry mortals ! hark ye, ho ! 
 
 The King now speaks, nor what he speaks is yain ; 
 This day's amount of business well ye know, 
 
 So what ye know I will not tell again : 
 He hopes your asses are more swift than doe ; 
 
 He hopes your sacks are strong as iron chain ; 
 He hopes your bags and pipes are swolFn and screwed ; 
 He hopes your rhime-cramm'd brains are in a famous 
 mood. 
 
 XXIX. 
 " For, verily, in Anster's beauteous Dame 
 
 Awaits the victor no despised reward ; 
 Sith well she merits that the starry frame 
 
 Should drop Apollo on that grassy sward, 
 That so he might, by clever jumping, claim 
 
 A fairer Daphne than whom once he marr'd ; 
 So fair is Mag : yet not her charms alone; 
 A present from the King shall be the victor's own : 
 
 I 
 
90 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 (C For, as a dow'r, along with Maggie's hand, 
 The Monarch shall the conqueror present 
 
 With ten score acres of the royal land, 
 All good of soil, and of the highest rent ; 
 
 Near where Dunfermline's palace-turrets stand, 
 They stretch, array'd in wheat, their green extent 
 
 With such a gift the King shall crown to-day, 
 
 The gen'rous toils of him who bears the prize away. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 iC And he, prize-blest, shall enter Maggie's door, 
 
 Who shall in all the trials victor be ; 
 Or, if there hap no victor in the four, 
 
 He who shall shine and conquer in the three : 
 But should sly Fortune give to two or more 
 
 An equal chance in equal victory, 
 'Tis Mag's of these to choose the dearest beau : — 
 So bring your asses in, bring in your asses, ho !" — 
 
CANTO THIRD. 91 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Scarce from his clam'rous brass the words were blown , 
 When from the globe of people issued out 
 
 Donkeys in dozens and in scores, that shone 
 In purple some, and some in plainer clout, 
 
 With many a wag astraddle placed thereon, 
 
 Green-coated knight, and laird, and clumsy lout, 
 
 That one and all came burning with ambition, 
 
 To try their asses' speed in awkward competition. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And some sat wielding silver-headed whips, 
 Whisking their asses' ears with silken thong ; 
 
 Some thrash'd and thwack'd their sturdy hairy hips 
 With knotted cudgels ponderous and strong; 
 
 And some had spurs, whose every rowel dips 
 Amid their ribs an inch of iron long ; 
 
 And some had bridles gay and bits of gold, 
 
 And some had hempen reins, most shabby to behold, 
 
92 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Amid them enter'd, on the listed space, 
 
 Great Rob (the Ranter was his after name). 
 
 With Fun's broad ensign hoisted in his face, 
 And aug'ring to himself immortal fame : 
 
 And aye upon the hillock's loftier place, 
 
 Where sat his destin'd spouse, the blooming Dame, 
 
 A glance he flung, regardless of the reins, 
 
 And felt the rapid love glide tingling through his veins. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 She, too, upon the Bord'rer's manly size 
 With prepossessing favour fix'd her sight ; 
 
 For woman's sharp and well-observing eyes 
 Soon single out the seemliest, stateliest wight ; 
 
 And, oh ! (she to herself thus silent sighs,) 
 Were't but the will of Puck the dapper sprite, 
 
 I could — La ! what a grace of form divine ! — 
 
 I could, in sooth, submit to lose my name in thine ! 
 
CANTO THIRD. 93 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Forward they rode, to where the King and Mag 
 O'erlook'd, superior, from the southern mound. 
 
 When, from his brute alighting*, every wag 
 His person hauneh'd into a bow profound, 
 
 And almost kiss'd his shoe's bedusted tag, 
 Grazing with nose most loyally the- ground, 
 
 As earthward crook'd they their corporeal frames 
 
 Into obeisance due, before the gracious James. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 fl Rise, rise, my lads," the jovial Monarch said, 
 
 " Here is not now the fitting place to ply 
 The courtier's and the dancing-master's trade, 
 
 Nuzzling the nasty ground obsequiously : 
 Up, up — put hat and bonnet upon head — 
 
 The chilling dew still drizzles from the sky ; 
 Up — tuck your coats succinct around your bellies ; 
 Mount, mount your asses' backs like clever vaulting 
 fellows. 
 
 12 
 
94 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " And see, that, when the race's sign is given, 
 Each rider whirl his whip with swingeing- might, 
 
 Or toss his whizzing cudgel up to heaven, 
 
 That with more goodly bang it down may light : 
 
 And let the spur's blood-thirsty teeth be driven 
 Through hide and hair by either heel aright ; 
 
 For 'tis a beast most sluggish, sour, and slow. — 
 
 Be mounting then, my hearts, and range ye in a row : 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " And look ye northwards — note yon mastlike pole, 
 Tassell'd with ribbons and betrimm'd with clout ; 
 
 Yon — mark it — is the race-ground's northern goal, 
 Where you must turn your asses' heads about, 
 
 And jerk them southward, till with gladsome soul 
 You reach that spot whence now you're setting out ; 
 
 And he that reaches first, shall loud be shouted 
 
 The happy, happy man — I'll say no more about it." — 
 
CANTO THIRD, 95 
 
 XL. 
 
 This said, they, like the glimpse of lightning quick, 
 
 Upvaulted on their backbones asinine, 
 And marshaird, by the force of spur and stick, 
 
 The long-ear'd lubbards in an even line ; 
 Then sat, awaiting that momentous nick 
 
 When James's herald should y- twang the sign. 
 Each whip was reared aloft in act to crack, 
 Each cudgel hung in sky surcharged with stormy thwack. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Frisk'd with impatient flutter every heart, 
 As the brisk anxious blood began to jump ; 
 
 Each human ear prick'd up its fleshiest part, 
 To catch the earliest notice of the trump ; 
 
 When, hark ! with blast that spoke the sign to start, 
 The brass-toned clarion gave the air a thump, 
 
 Whoop — off they go — halloo — they shoot — they fly — 
 
 They spur — they whip — they crack — they bawl- — they 
 curse — they cry. — 
 
96 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 A hundred whips, high toss'd in ether, sung 
 Tempestuous, flirting up and down like fire ; 
 
 5 T ween sky and earth as many cudgels swung 
 Their gnarled lengths in formidable gyre, 
 
 And, hissing, from their farther ends down flung 
 A storm of wooden bangs and anguish dire : 
 
 Wo to the beastly ribs, and sculls, and backs, 
 
 Foredoom'd to bear the weight of such unwieldy thwacks ! 
 
 XLIIL 
 
 Wo to the beastly bowels, doom'd, alas ! 
 
 To bear the spur's sharp steely agony ! 
 For through the sore-gaird hides of every ass 
 
 Squirts the vext blood in gush of scarlet dye, 
 While, as they slug along the hoof-crush'd grass, 
 
 Rises a bray so horrid and so high, 
 As if all Bashan's bulls, with fat o'ergrown, 
 Had bellow'd on the green of Anster's frighted Loan. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 97 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Who can in silly pithless words paint well 
 
 The pithy feats of that laborious race ? 
 Who can the cudgellings and whippings tell, 
 
 The hurry, emulation, joy, disgrace? 
 'Twould take for tongue the clapper of a bell, 
 
 To speak the total wonders of the chase ; 
 'T would need a set of sturdy brassy lungs, 
 To tell the mangled whips, and shatter'd sticks and 
 rungs » 
 
 XLV. 
 Each rider pushes on to be the first, 
 
 Nor has he now an eye to look behind ; 
 One ass trots smartly on, though like to burst 
 
 With bounding blood and scantiness of wind; 
 Another, by his master bann'd and cursed, 
 
 Goes backward through perversity of mind, 
 Inching along in motion retrograde, 
 Contrarious to the course which Scotland's Monarch 
 bade. 
 
98 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 A third obdurate stands and cudgel-proof, 
 And stedfast as th' unchiselFd rock of flint, 
 
 Regardless though the heaven's high marble roof 
 Should fall upon his scull with mortal dint, 
 
 Or though conspiring earth, beneath his hoof, 
 Should sprout up coal with fiery flashes in't, 
 
 Whilst on his back his grieved and waspish master, 
 
 The stubborner he stands, still bangs and bans the faster. 
 
 XLVIT. 
 
 Meantime, the rabblement, with fav'ring shout 
 And clapping hand, set up so loud a din, 
 
 As almost with stark terror frighted out 
 Each ass's soul from his particular skin : 
 
 Rattled the bursts of laughter round about, 
 Grinn'd every phiz with mirth's peculiar grin, 
 
 As through the Loan they saw the cuddies awkward 
 
 Bustling, some straight, some thwart, some forward, and 
 some backward. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 99 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 As when the clouds, by gusty whirlwind riven, 
 And whipp'd into confusion pitchy-black, 
 
 Detach'd, fly diverse round the cope of heaven, 
 Reeling and jostling in uncertain rack, 
 
 And some are northward, some are southward driven. 
 With storm embroiling all the zodiac, 
 
 Till the clash'd clouds send out the fiery flash, 
 
 And peals, with awful roll, the long loud thunder crash : 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Just in such foul confusion and alarm 
 Jostle the cuddies with rebellious mind, 
 
 All drench'd with sweat, their blood becomes so warm^ 
 And loudly bray before, and belch behind. 
 
 But who is yon, the foremost of the swarm, 
 That scampers fleetly as the rushing wind ? 
 
 'Tis Robert Scott, if I can trust my eyne; 
 
 I know the Bord rer well by his long coat of green. 
 
100 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 L. 
 
 See how his bright whip, brandish'd round his head, 
 Flickers like streamer in the northern skies ; 
 
 See how his ass on earth with nimble tread 
 Half-flying rides, in air half-riding flies, 
 
 As if a pair of ostrich wings, outspread, 
 
 To help him on, had sprouted from his thighs. 
 
 Well scamper'd, Rob — well whipt, well spurr'd, my boy ! 
 
 O haste ye, Ranter, haste — rush — gallop to thy joy ! 
 
 LI. 
 
 The pole is gain'd ; his ass's head he turns 
 
 Southward, to tread the trodden ground again ; 
 
 Sparkles like flint the cuddy's hoof, and burns, 
 Seeming to leave a smoke upon the plain ; 
 
 His bitted mouth the foam impatient churns ; 
 Sweeps his broad tail behind him like a train : 
 
 Speed, cuddy, speed ! O, slacken not thy pace ! 
 
 Ten minutes more like this, and thou shalt gain the race. 
 
 1 
 
CANTO THIRD. 101 
 
 LIL 
 
 He comes careering on the sounding Loan, 
 With pace unslacken'd hast'ning to the knoll, 
 
 And, as he meets with those that hobble on 
 
 With northward heads to gain the ribbon'd pole, 
 
 Ev'n by his forceful fury are overthrown 
 His long-ear'd brethren in confusion droll ; 
 
 For as their sides he, passing, slightly grazes, 
 
 By that collision shock'd, down roll the foundered asses. 
 
 LIIL 
 
 Heels over head they tumble ; ass on ass 
 
 They dash, and twenty times roll o'er and o'er, 
 
 Lubberly wallowing along the grass, 
 In beastly ruin and with beastly roar ; 
 
 While their vext riders, in poor plight, alas ! 
 
 Flung from their saddles three long ells and more, 
 
 Bruised and commingled with their cuddies sprawl, 
 
 Cursing th' impetuous brute whose conflict caused their 
 fall. 
 
 K 
 
102 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 With hats upon their heads they down did light, 
 Withouten hats disgracefully they rose ; 
 
 Clean were their faces ere they fell and bright, 
 But dirty-faced they got up on their toes; 
 
 Strong were their sinews ere they fell and tight,, 
 Hip-shot they stood up, sprain'd with many woes ; 
 
 Blithe were their aspects ere the ground they took, 
 
 Grim louring rose they up, with crabbed ghastful look. 
 
 LV. 
 
 And, to augment their sorrow and their shame, 
 A hail abhorr'd of nauseous rotten eggs 
 
 In rascal volleys from the rabble came 
 
 Opprobrious, on their bellies, heads, and legs, 
 
 Smearing with slime that ill their clothes became. 
 Whereby they stunk like wash-polluted pigs, 
 
 For in each sputtering shell a juice was found, 
 
 Foul as the dribbling pus of Philoctetes' wound. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 103 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Ah ! then, with grievous limp along the ground, 
 They sought their hats that had so flown away, 
 
 And some were, cuff'd and much disaster'd, found, 
 And haply some not found unto this day. 
 
 Meanwhile, with vast and undiminish'd bound, 
 Sheer through the bestial wreck and disarray, 
 
 The brute of Mesopotam hurries on, 
 
 And in his madding speed devours the trembling Loan. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Speed, cuddy, speed — one short, short minute more, 
 And finish'd is thy toil, and won the race — 
 
 Now — one half minute, and thy toils are o'er — 
 His toils are o'er, and he has gain'd the base : 
 
 He shakes his tail, the conscious conqueror, 
 Joy peeps through his stupidity of face, 
 
 He seems to wait the Monarch's approbation, 
 
 As quiver his long ears with self-congratulation. 
 
104 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Straight from the stirrup Rob dislodged his feet, 
 And, flinging from his grasp away the rein, 
 
 Off sprung, and, louting in obeisance meet, 
 Did lowly duty to his King again : 
 
 His King with salutation kind did greet 
 Him the victorious champion of the plain, 
 
 And bade him rise, and up the hillock skip, 
 
 That he the royal hand might kiss with favour'd lip. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Whereat, obedient to the high command, 
 Great Robert Scott, upbolting from the ground, 
 
 Rush'd up, in majesty of gesture grand, 
 
 To where the Monarch sat upon the mound, 
 
 And kiss'd the hard back of his hairy hand 
 Respectfully, as fits a Monarch crown'd ; 
 
 But with a keener ecstasy he kiss'd 
 
 The dearer, tend'rer back of Maggie's downy fist. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 105 
 
 LX. 
 
 Then took the trumpeter his clarion good, 
 
 And, in a sharp and violent exclaim, 
 Out from the brass among the multitude, 
 
 Afar sent conquering Rob's illustrious name ; 
 Which heard, an outcry of applause ensued, 
 
 That shook the dank dew from the starry frame ; 
 Great Robert's name was halloo'd through the mob, 
 And Echo blabb'd to heav'n the name of mighty Rob. 
 
 LXI. 
 But, unapplauded, and in piteous case, 
 
 The laggers, on their vanquish'd asses slow, 
 Shame-stung, with scurvy length of rueful face, 
 
 Ride sneaking off to save them further wo ; 
 For, cramm'd with slime and stench and vile disgrace, 
 
 Th* abominable shells fly moe and moe, 
 Till slink the men amid the press of folk, 
 Secure from shame, and slime, and egg's unwholesome 
 yolk. 
 
 K2 
 
ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 I. 
 
 O that my noddle were a seething-kettle, 
 Frothing with bombast o'er the Muses' fire ! 
 
 O that my wit were sharper than a nettle ! 
 
 O that with shrill swan-guts were strung my lyre ! 
 
 So would I chime and chant with such a mettle, 
 That each old wife in Fife's full-peopled shire 
 
 Should, Maenad-like, spring from her spinning-wheel, 
 
 And frolic round her bard, and wince a tottering reeh 
 
110 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 II. 
 
 Again the herald, at the King's desire, 
 His tube of metal to his mouth applied, 
 
 And, with a roysting brazen clangour dire, 
 Round to the heaving mass of rabble cried, 
 
 Inviting every blade of fun and fire, 
 
 That wish'd to jump in hempen bondage tied, 
 
 Forthwith to start forth from the people's ring, 
 
 And fetch his sack in hand, and stand before the King. 
 
 III. 
 
 No sooner in the sky his words were blown, 
 Than through the multitude's compacted press 
 
 Wedging their bodies, push to th' open Loan 
 Th' audacious men of boasted springiness ; 
 
 Some, Samson- thigh'd, and large and big of bone, 
 Brawn-burden'd, six feet high or little less, 
 
 Some, lean, flesh-wither'd, stinted, oatmeal things, 
 
 Yet hardy, tough, and smart, with heels like steely 
 springs. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. Ill 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nor were the offer'd candidates a few ; 
 
 In hundreds forth they issue, mad with zeal 
 To try, in feats which haply some shall rue, 
 
 Their perilous alacrity of heel : 
 Each mortal brings his sack, wherein to mew, 
 
 As in a pliant prison, strong as steel, 
 His guiltless corse, and clog his natural gait 
 With cumberance of cloth, embarrassing and strait. 
 
 V. 
 
 And in their hands they hold to view on high, 
 Vain-gloriously, their bags of sturdy thread, 
 
 And toss and wave them in th' affronted sky, 
 Like honour-winning trophies o'er their head, 
 
 Assuming merit, that they dare defy 
 
 The dangers of a race so droll and dread. 
 
 Ah ! boast not, sirs, for premature's the brag; 
 
 'Tis time, in troth, to boast when off you put the bag. 
 
112 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Onward they hasten'd, clamorous and loud, 
 To where the Monarch sat upon the knoll, 
 
 And having to his presence humbly bow'd, 
 And bared of reverential hat their poll, 
 
 Their dirty sacks they wagg'd, erect and proud, 
 Impatient, in their fiery fit of soul, 
 
 And pertly shaked, even in the Monarch's eyes, 
 
 A cloud of meal and flour that whirling round them flies. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But as the good King saw them thus prepared 
 To have their persons scabbarded in cloth, 
 
 He order 'd twenty soldiers of his guard, 
 All swashing fellows, and of biggest growth, 
 
 To step upon the green Loan's listed sward, 
 That they may lend assistance, nothing loath, 
 
 To plunge into their pliant sheaths, neck-deep, 
 
 Th' ambitious men that dare such over-vent'rous leap. 
 
 5 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 113 
 
 VIII. 
 
 They stepp'd obedient down, and in a trice 
 
 Put on the suitors comical array ; 
 Each sack gaped wide its monstrous orifice, 
 
 To swallow to the neck its living prey ; 
 And as a swineherd puts in poke a grice, 
 
 To carry from its sty some little way, 
 So did the soldiers plunge the men within 
 Their yawning gloomy gulfs, even to the neck and chin. 
 
 IX. 
 
 As when of yore the Roman Forum, split 
 
 By earthquake, yawn'd a black tremendous hole, 
 
 Voracious, deep'ning still, though flung in it 
 
 Were stones, and trees with all their branches whole, 
 
 Till, in a noble patriotic fit, 
 
 The younker Curtius, of devoted soul, 
 
 Down headlong yarely gallopp'd, horse and all, 
 
 And dash'd his gallant bones to atoms by the fall : 
 
 L 
 
114 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 X. 
 
 So fearlessly these men of fair Scotland 
 
 (Though not to death) down plunged into their sacks, 
 En toiling- into impotence to stand 
 
 Their feet, and mobbling legs, and sides, and backs, 
 Till tightly drawn was every twisted band, 
 
 And knotted firmly round their valiant necks, 
 That, in their rival rage to jump forthright, 
 They might not struggle off their case of sackcloth tight. 
 
 XL 
 
 Nor, when their bodies were accoutred well, 
 Upon their cumber 'd feet stood all upright, 
 
 But some, unpractised or uncautious, fell 
 Sousing with lumpish undefended weight, 
 
 And roll'd upon the turf full many an ell, 
 Incapable of uprise, sad in plight; 
 
 Till, raised again, with those that keep their feet, 
 
 Join'd in a line they stand, each in his winding-sheet. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 115 
 
 XII. 
 
 O 'twas an awkward and ridic'lous show, 
 
 To see a long sack-muffled line of men, 
 With hatless heads all peeping in a row 
 
 Forth from the long smocks that their limbs contain : 
 For in the wide abyss of cloth below, 
 
 Their legs are swallow'd, and their stout arms twain ; 
 From chin to toe one shapeless lump they stand, 
 In clumsy uniform, without leg, arm, or hand. 
 
 XIII. 
 And such their odd appearance was, and show 
 
 Of human carcasses in sackcloth dight, 
 As when the traveller, when he haps to go 
 
 Down to Grand Cairo in the Turk's despite, 
 Sees in her chamber'd catacombs below 
 
 Full many a mummy horribly upright, 
 A grisly row of grimly-garnish'd dead, 
 That seem to pout, and scowl, and shake the brainless 
 head. 
 
116 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 So queer and so grotesque to view they stood, 
 All ready, at the trump's expected sound, 
 
 To take a spring of monstrous altitude, 
 
 And scour with majesty of hop the ground : 
 
 Yet not so soon the starting-blast ensued ; 
 For, as they stand intent upon the bound, 
 
 The humorous Monarch, eyeing their array, 
 
 Gave them his good advice before they rush'd away.— 
 
 XV. 
 
 " O friends ! since now your loins are girt/' he cried, 
 
 ce For journey perilous and full of toil, 
 Behoves it you right cautiously to guide 
 
 Your ticklish steps along such vexing soil ; 
 For perilous the road, and well supplied 
 
 With stumps, and stumbling-blocks, and pits of guile, 
 And snares, and latent traps with earth bestown, 
 To catch you by the heels, and bring you groaning 
 down. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 117 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " And wo betide, if unaware you hap 
 Your body's well-adjusted poise to lose, 
 
 For bloody bump and sorrowful sore slap 
 Await your falling temple, brow, and nose ; 
 
 And, when once down and fetter'd in a trap, 
 Hard task 'twill be to extricate your toes : 
 
 So, lads, if you regard your nose's weal^ 
 
 Pray pick out stable steps, and tread with wary heel. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " And he that longest time without a fall 
 
 Shall urge his sad perplexity of way, 
 And leave behind his fellow-travellers all, 
 
 Growling for help, and grovelling on the clay ; 
 He, for his laudable exertions, shall 
 
 Be sung the second victor of the day : 
 And so God speed you, sirs !" — The Monarch spoke, 
 And on the surging air the trumpet's signal broke. 
 
 L2 
 
118 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 As when a thunderclap, preluding nigh 
 
 A storm, growls on the frontiers of the west, 
 
 Ere yet the cloud, slow toiling up the sky, 
 Hath in its mass the mid-day sun supprest, 
 
 Alarm'd, the timid doves that basking lie 
 Upon their cot's slope sunny roof at rest, 
 
 At once up-flutter in a sudden fray, 
 
 And poise th' unsteady wing, and squir in air away : 
 
 XIX. 
 
 So started, as the herald gave the blast, 
 At once the suitors in their sacks away, 
 
 With gallant up-spring, notable and vast, 
 A neck-endangering violent assay : 
 
 The solid earth, as up to sky they past, 
 Push'd back, seem'd to retire a little way ; 
 
 And, as they up-flew furious from the ground, 
 
 The gash'd and wounded air whizz'd audibly a sound. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 119 
 
 XX. 
 
 As when on summer eve a soaking rain 
 
 Hath after drought bedrench'd the tender grass, 
 
 If chance, in pleasant walk along the plain, 
 
 Brushing with foot the pearl-hung blades you pass, 
 
 A troop of frogs oft leaps from field of grain, 
 Marshall'd in line, a foul unseemly race ; 
 
 They halt a space, then vaulting up they fly, 
 
 As if they long'd to sit on Iris* bow on high : 
 
 XXI. 
 
 So leap'd the men, half-sepulchred in sack, 
 
 Up-swinging, with their shapes bemonst'ring sky, 
 
 And coursed in air a semicircle track, 
 Like to the feathery-footed Mercury ; 
 
 Till, spent their impetus, with sounding thwack 
 Greeted their heels the green ground sturdily ; 
 
 And some descending kept their balance well, 
 
 Unbalanced some came down, and boisterously fell. 
 
120 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The greeted earth beneath the heavy thwacks 
 
 Of feet that down centripetal alight, 
 Of tingling elbows, bruised loins and backs, 
 
 Shakes passive, yet indignant of the weight ; 
 For, o'er her bosom, in their plaguy sacks, 
 
 Cumbrously roll (a mortifying sight !) 
 Wreek'd burgher, knight, and laird, and clown, pell-mell, 
 Prostrate, in grievance hard, too terrible to tell. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And aye they struggle at an effort strong 
 
 To reinstate their feet upon the plain, 
 Half-elbowing, half-kneeing, sore and long, 
 
 Abortively, with bitter sweat and pain, 
 Till, half upraised, they to their forehead's wrong 
 
 Go with a buffet rapping down again, 
 And sprawl, and flounce, and wallow on their backs, 
 Crying aloud for help t' uncord their dolorous sacks. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 121 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Not in severer anguish of distress 
 
 The fabled giant under Etna lies, 
 Though rocks and tree-proud promontories press, 
 
 With vengeance fitting Jove, his ruffian size : 
 Wallowing supine beneath the mountain's stress, 
 
 Half-broil'd with brimstone ever hot, he fries. 
 And, as he turns his vasty carcass o'er, 
 Out-belches molten rocks, and groans a hideous roar. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 In such vexatious plight the mortals lie 
 
 That founder'd on the threshold of the race, 
 
 Where let us leave them, and lift up our eye 
 To those that keep their feet, and hop apace. — 
 
 Gramercy ! how they bounce it lustily, 
 Maugre their misery of woven case ! 
 
 How with their luggage scour they o'er the Loan, 
 
 And toil, and moil, and strain, and sweat, and lumber on ! 
 
122 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Strange thing it is that men so penn'd in clout, 
 
 So wound with swaddling-clothes, should trip it so ; 
 
 See how with spring incomparably stout, 
 Spurning the nasty earth, they upward go, 
 
 As if they wish'd t' unsocket and knock out 
 
 With poll the candles that i* the night-sky glow ! 
 
 See how, attain'd the zenith of their leap, 
 
 Earthward they sink again with long-descending sweep! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 They halt not still ; again aloft they hop, 
 As if they tread the rainbow's gilded bend, 
 
 Again upon the quaking turf they drop, 
 Lighting majestic on their proper end : 
 
 I ween, they do not make a moment's stop ; 
 O who may now his precious time misspend ? 
 
 Tis bustling all and swelt'ring — but, behold ! 
 
 Swop ! there a jumper falls aflat upon the mould. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 123 
 
 XXVIII. 
 How can his gyved arms be forward thrust 
 
 To break the downsway of his fall just now ? 
 Ah ! 'tis his tender nose alone that must 
 
 In loving-kindness save from bump his brow : 
 His soft nose, to its site and duty just, 
 
 Is martyr'd to its loyalty, I trow, 
 For, flatten'd into anguish by the clod, 
 It weeps — see how it weeps — warm trickling tears of 
 blood ! 
 
 XXIX. 
 He bleeds, and from his nostrils' double sluice 
 
 Redly bedews the sod of Anster Loan, 
 Till in a puddle of his own heart's juice 
 
 He welt'ring writhes with lamentable moan, 
 And sends his sack in curses to the deuce, 
 
 Banning the hour when first he put it on. 
 Meanwhile, o'erlabour'd in their hobbling pother, 
 Douse ! drops a second down, and, whap ! there sinks 
 another. 
 
124 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Wearied, half-bursten with their hot turmoil, 
 Their lungs like Vulcan's bellows panting strong, 
 
 Pow'rless to stand or prosecute their toil, 
 Successively they souse and roll along, 
 
 Till, round and round, the carcass-cumber'd soil 
 Is strewn with havock of the jumping throng, 
 
 That make a vain endeavour off to shuffle 
 
 The cruel sackcloth coil that does their persons muffle. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 All in despair have sunk, save yonder two 
 That still their perpendic'lar posture keep, 
 
 The only remnant of the jumping crew, 
 That urge their emulous persisting leap : 
 
 Oddspittkins ! how with poise exactly true, 
 Clean forward to the ribbon'd pole they sweep ; 
 
 I cannot say that one is 'fore the other, 
 
 So equal side by side they plod near one another. 
 
 5 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 125 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 The pole is gain'd, and to the glorious sun 
 They turn their sweaty faces round again ; 
 
 With inextinguishable rage to run, 
 
 Southward, unflagging and unquell'd, they strain. 
 
 What ! — Is not yonder face, where young-eyed Fun 
 And Laughter seem enthroned to hold their reign, 
 
 One seen before — ev'n Rob the Bord'rer's phiz ? — 
 
 Ay, now I ken it well, by'r lakin it is his ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 Haste, haste ye, Rob, half-hop, half-run, half-fly, 
 
 Wriggle and wrestle in thy bag's despite ; 
 So ! shoot like cannon-bullet to the sky ; 
 
 So ! stably down upon thy soles alight ; 
 Up, up again, and fling it gallantly ; 
 
 Well flung, my Rob, thou art a clever wight : 
 'Sblood ! now thy rival is a step before ; 
 String, string thy sinews up, and jump three yards and 
 more. 
 
 M 
 
126 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 "lis done : but who is he that at thy side 
 
 Thy rival vigorously marches so ? 
 Declare, O Muse, since thou art eagle-eyed, 
 
 And thine it is, even at a glance, to know 
 Each son of mortal man, though mumm'd and tied 
 
 In long disguising sack from chin to toe. 
 " He, boy, that marches in such clumsy state, 
 Is old Edina's child, a waggish Advocate. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " For he too has for Maggie Lauder dared 
 To prove the mettle of his heel and shin ; 
 
 A jolly wight, who trickishly prepared 
 A treach'rous sack to scarf his body in, 
 
 A sack whose bottom was with damp impaird, 
 Fusty, half-rotten, mouldy, frail, and thin, 
 
 That he, unseen, might in the race's pother 
 
 Thrust out one helpful leg, and keep in caged its brother. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 127 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " And seest thou not his right leg" peeping out, 
 Enfranchised, traitorously to help his gait, 
 
 Whilst th' other, still imprisoned in its clout, 
 Tardily follows its more active mate ?" 
 
 I see it well — 'tis treachery, no doubt ; 
 Beshrew thee now, thou crafty Advocate ! 
 
 Unfair, unfair ! 'tis quite unfair, I say, 
 
 Thus with illicit leg to prop thy perilous way ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Half-free, half-clogg'd, he steals his quick advance, 
 Nearing at each unlicensed step the base, 
 
 While honest Robert plies the hardier dance, 
 Most faithful to his sack and to the race. 
 
 Now for it, Rob — another jump — but once — 
 And overjump'd is all th* allotted space. 
 
 By Jove, they both have reach'd the base together ; 
 
 Gain'd is the starting-line, yet gain'd the race hath 
 neither. 
 
128 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 At once they bend each man his body's frame 
 
 Into a bow, before the King and Mag ; 
 At once they ope their lips to double- claim 
 
 The race's palm (for now Auld Reekie's wag*, 
 As snail draws in its horn, had, fie for shame ! 
 
 Drawn his dishonest leg into his bag) ; 
 At once they plead the merits of their running, 
 Good Rob with proofs of force, the wag with quips and 
 punning. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 Me lists not now to variegate my song 
 
 With all his sophistry and quip and pun ; 
 O 'twould be tiresome, profitless, and long, 
 
 To quote his futile arguments air-spun, 
 His oratoric tricks that dress the wrong 
 
 In garb of right, his gibes of naughty fun, 
 Quiddits and quillits that may well confound one. 
 And make a rotten sack appear a goodly sound one. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 129 
 
 XL. 
 
 But Robert to the people's sight appeal'd, 
 And to the eyes of royal James and Mag, 
 
 Who saw his rival's foot too plain reveal'd, 
 And impudently peering from its bag : 
 
 He said 'twas roguish thus to come afield 
 With such a paltry hypocritic rag ; 
 
 The very hole through which his foot was thrust 
 
 Gapes evidence to prove his claim was quite unjust. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Long was the plea, and longer it had been, 
 
 Had not the populace begun aloud 
 T' express with clamour their resentment keen 
 
 At him who quibbled in his rotten shroud : 
 A thousand hands, uplifted high, were seen 
 
 Over the hats and bonnets of the crowd, 
 With paly hens' eggs that their fingers clench, 
 To hurl upon his sack conviction, slime, and stench. 
 
 M2 
 
ISO ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Which when he saw all white upheld to view, 
 
 Ready to rattle shame about his ears, 
 He straightway the perplexing claim withdrew, 
 
 Urged to resign by his judicious fears; 
 For had he but one minute staid or two, 
 
 He, for his subtil ties, and quirks, and jeers, 
 Had reap'd a poor and pitiful reward, 
 And sinelPd from head to foot — but not with Syrian 
 nard. 
 
 XLIII. 
 The Monarch, then, well pleased that thus the mob 
 
 Had settled with prejudging voice the case, 
 Orders his trumpeter to blazon Rob, 
 
 Again the winner of the second race. 
 The fellow blew each cheek into a globe, 
 
 And pufFd into deformity his face 
 As to the top of heaven's empyreal framt* 
 He, in a storm of breath, sent up the conq'ror's name. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 131 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 His name the rabble took ; from tongue to tongue 
 
 Bandied it flew like fiery-winged shot, 
 That the blue atmosphere around them rung 
 
 With the blabb'd honours of great Robert Scott : 
 Nor, when they thus his triumph stoutly sung, 
 
 Were the race-founder'd gentlemen forgot, 
 That in their trammels still aflound ring lay, 
 And, had they not been raised, had lain there to this day. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 But soon uprear'd they were : the lads that late 
 Had helped their uncouth livery to don, 
 
 Now step upon the green, compassionate, 
 
 To free them from the house of dole and moan : 
 
 The cords that on their necks were knotted strait, 
 Are loosed, and, as they lie extended prone, 
 
 Of their long scabbards are diseased the men, 
 
 And stand upon their feet, unclogg'd and free agen. 
 
132 AiNSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLVI. 
 They take no time (such shame the vanquish'd stung), 
 
 Each to snatch up his bag and bring it off; 
 Away they start, and plunge amid the throng, 
 
 Glad their embarrassment of cloth to doff. 
 (So shoots the serpent to the brake along, 
 
 And leaves to rot his cast despised slough :) 
 Deep in the throng with elbows sharp they bore, 
 And fear contemptuous laugh and hateful egg no more. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 But now the sun, in mid-day's gorgeous state, 
 Tow'rs on the summit of the lucid sky, 
 
 And human stomachs that were cramm'd of late, 
 Now empty, send their silent dinner-cry, 
 
 Demanding something wherewithal to sate 
 Their hunger, bread and beer, or penny pie : 
 
 The crowd, obedient to the belly's call, 
 
 Begin to munch, and eat, and nibble one and all. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 133 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Some from their pockets or their wallets drew 
 
 Lumps of the roasted flesh of calf or lamb ; 
 Some ply their teeth-arm *d grinding jaws to chew 
 
 The tougher slices of the thirsty ham ; 
 Others with bits of green cheese nice and new, 
 
 Ev'n to the throat their clownish bellies cram ; 
 While horns of ale, from many a barrel fill'd, 
 Foam white with frothy rage, and soon are swigg'd and 
 swill'd. 
 
 XLIX. 
 James, too, and Mag, and all the courtly train 
 
 Of lords and ladies round them, not a few, 
 With sugar'd biscuits sooth'd their stomachs' pain, 
 
 For courtly stomachs must be humour'd too ; 
 And from their throats to wash the dusty stain 
 
 That they had breathed when from the sacks it flew, 
 A glass of wine they slipp'd within their clay, 
 And if they swallow'd twain, the wiser folk were they. 
 
I34f ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 L. 
 
 Nor ceased the business of the day meanwhile; 
 
 For, as the Monarch chew'd his sav'ry cake, 
 The man whose lungs sustain the trumpet's toil 
 
 Made haste again his noisy tube to take, 
 And with a cry, which, heard full many a mile, 
 
 Caused the young crows on Airdrie's trees to quake, 
 He bade the suitor-pipers to draw nigh, 
 That they might, round the knoll, their powers of piping 
 try. 
 
 LI. 
 Which when the rabble heard, with sudden sound 
 
 They broke their circle's huge circumference, 
 And, crushing' forward to the southern mound, 
 
 They push'd their many-headed shoal immense, 
 Diffusing" to an equal depth around 
 
 Their mass of bodies wedged compact and dense, 
 That, standing nigher, they might better hear 
 The pipers squeaking loud to charm Miss Maggie's ear. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 135 
 
 LII. 
 
 And soon the pipers, shouldering along 
 
 Through the close mob their squeezed uneasy way, 
 Stood at the hillock's foot, an eager throng, 
 
 Each asking license from the King to play; 
 For with a tempest turbulent and strong 
 
 Labour'd their bags, impatient of delay, 
 Heaving their bloated globes outrageously, 
 As if in pangs to give their contents to the sky. 
 
 LIU. 
 
 And every bag, thus full and tempest-ripe, 
 
 Beneath its arm lay ready to be prest, 
 And on the holes of each fair-polish 'd pipe 
 
 Each piper's fingers long and white were placed : 
 Fiercely they burn'd in jealous rivalship ; 
 
 Each madding piper scoff'd at all the rest, 
 And fleer'd, and toss'd contemptuously his head, 
 As if his skill alone deserved fair Maggie's bed. 
 
136 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Nor could they wait, so piping-mad they were, 
 Till James gave each man orders to begin, 
 
 But in a moment they displode their air 
 In one tumultuous and unlicensed din : 
 
 Out flies, in storm of simultaneous blare, 
 
 The whizzing wind comprest their bags within, 
 
 And whiffling through the wooden tubes so small, 
 
 Growls gladness to be freed from such confining thrall. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Then rose, in burst of hideous symphony, 
 Of pibrochs and of tunes one mingled roar ; 
 
 Discordantly the pipes squeal'd sharp and high, 
 The drones alone in solemn concord snore ; 
 
 Five hundred fingers, twinkling funnily, 
 
 Play twiddling up and down on hole and bore, 
 
 Now passage to the shrilly wind denying, 
 
 And now a little raised to let it out a-sighing. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 137 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Then rung the rocks and caves of Billyness, 
 
 Reverberating back that concert's sound, 
 And half the lurking Echoes that possess 
 
 The glens and hollows of the Fifan ground ; 
 Their shadowy voices strain'd into excess 
 
 Of outcry, loud huzzaing round and round 
 To all the Dryads of Pitkirie wood, 
 That now they round their trees should dance in frisky 
 mood. 
 
 LVIL 
 As, when the sportsman with report of gun 
 
 Alarms the sea-fowls of the Isle of May, 
 Ten thousand mews and gulls that shade the sun 
 
 Come flapping down in terrible dismay, 
 And with a wild and barb'rous concert stun 
 
 His ears, and scream, and shriek, and wheel away ; 
 Scarce can the boatman hear his plashing oar ; 
 Yell caves and eyries all, and rings each Maian shore : 
 
 ' N 
 
138 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Just so around the knoll did pipe and drone 
 Whistle and hum a discord strange to hear, 
 
 Tort'ring, with violence of shriek and groan, 
 Kingly, and courtly, and plebeian ear ; 
 
 And still the men had humm'd and whistled on, 
 Even till each bag had burst its bloated sphere, 
 
 Had not the King, uprising, waved his hand, 
 
 Checking the boisterous din of such unmanner'd band. 
 
 LIX. 
 On one side of his face a laugh was seen, 
 
 On t'other side a half-form'd frown lay hid : 
 He frown'd, because they, petulantly keen, 
 
 Set up their piping forward and unbid ; 
 He laugh'd, for who could have controll'd his mien, 
 
 Hearing such crash of pibrochs as he did ? 
 He bade them orderly the strife begin, 
 And play each man the tune wherewith the fair he'd win. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 139 
 
 LX. 
 
 Whereat the pipers ceased their idle toil 
 
 Of windy music wild and deafening, 
 And made too late (what they forgot erewhile) 
 
 A general bow to Maggie and their King. 
 But as they vaiFd their bare heads tow'rd the soil, 
 
 O then there happ'd a strange portentous thing, 
 Which had not good my Muse confirm'd for true, 
 Myself had not believed, far less have told to you. 
 
 LXI. 
 For, lo ! whilst all their bodies yet were bent, 
 
 Breaks from the spotless blue of eastern sky 
 A globe of fire, (miraculous ostent !) 
 
 Bursten from some celestial cleft on high ; 
 And thrice in circle round the firmament 
 
 TraiFd its long light the gleamy prodigy, 
 Till on the ring of pipers down it came, 
 And set their pipes, and drones, and chanters in a flame. 
 
140 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 'Twas quick and sudden as th' electric shock ; 
 
 One moment lighted and consumed them all : 
 As is the green hair of the tufted oak 
 
 Scathed into blackness by the fulmined ball, 
 Or as, spark-kindled, into fire and smoke 
 
 Flashes and fumes the nitrous grain so small, 
 So were their bagpipes, in a twink, like tinder, 
 Fired underneath their arms, and burnt into a cinder, 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Yet so innocuous was the sky-fallen flame, 
 That, save their twangling instruments alone, 
 
 Unsinged their other gear remain'd the same, 
 Even to the nap that stuck their coats upon ; 
 
 Nor did they feel its heat, when down it came 
 On errand to destroy pipe, bag, and drone, 
 
 But stood in blank surprise, when to the ground 
 
 Dropt down in ashes black their furniture of sound. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 141 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Crest-fallen they stood, confounded and distrest, 
 
 Fixing upon the turf their stupid look, 
 Conscious that Heaven forbade them to contest, 
 
 By such a burning token of rebuke. 
 The rabble, too, its great alarm confest, 
 
 For every face the ruddy blood forsook, 
 As with their white, uprolling, ghastly eyes, 
 They spied the streaky light wheel whizzing from the 
 6kies. 
 
 LXV. 
 And still they to that spot of orient heaven, 
 
 Whence burst the shining globe, look up aghast, 
 Expecting when th' empyreal pavement, riven, 
 
 A second splendour to the earth should cast : 
 But when they saw no repetition given, 
 
 Changed from alarm to noisy joy at last, 
 They set up such a mix'd tremendous shout, 
 As made the girdling heavens to bellow round about. 
 
 N2 
 
142 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 And such a crack and peal of laughter rose, 
 When the poor pipers bagpipeless they saw, 
 
 As when a flock of jetty-feather'd crows, 
 On winter morning 1 , when the skies are raw, 
 
 Come from their woods in long* and sooty rows, 
 
 And over Anster through their hoarse throats caw : 
 
 The sleepy old wives, on their warm chaff-beds, 
 
 Up from their bolsters rear, afear'd, their flannell'd heads. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Then did th' affronted pipers slink away, 
 With faces fix'd on earth for very shame ; 
 
 For not one remnant of those pipes had they 
 Wherewith they late so arrogantly came, 
 
 But in a black and ashy ruin lay 
 
 Their glory, moulder'd by the scathing flame : 
 
 Yet in their hearts they cursed (and what the wonder ?) 
 
 That fire to which their pipes so quick were given a 
 plunder. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 143 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 And scarce they off had slunk, when, with a bound, 
 Great Robert Scott sprung forth before the King^ 
 
 For he alone, when all the Pipers round 
 Stood ranged into their fire-devoted ring, 
 
 Had kept snug distance from the fated ground, 
 As if forewarn'd of that portentous thing. 
 
 He stood and laugh'd, as underneath his arm 
 
 He held his bagpipe safe, unscathed with fiery harm, 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 His hollow drone, with mouth wide-gaping, lay 
 
 Over his shoulder pointing to the sky, 
 Ready to spue its breath, and puff away 
 
 The lazy silver clouds that sit on high : 
 His bag swelled madly to begin the play, 
 
 And with its bowel-wind groan'd inwardly ; 
 Not higher heaved the wind-bags which, of yore, 
 Ulysses got from him who ruled th* iEolian shore. 
 
144 
 
 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 He thus the King with reverence bespoke : 
 
 " My Liege, since Heaven with bagpipe -levell'd fire 
 
 Hath turn'd my brethren's gear to dust and smoke, 
 And testified too glaringly its ire, 
 
 It fits me now, as yet my bagpipe's poke 
 Remains unsinged, and every pipe entire, 
 
 To play my tune— O King, with your good will— 
 
 And to the royal ear to prove my piping skill." 
 
 LXXL 
 
 Nodded his Liege assent, and straightway bade 
 Him stand atop o' th' hillock at his side : 
 
 Atop he stood; and first a bow he made 
 
 To all the crowd that shouted far and wide ; 
 
 Then, like a piper dext'rous at his trade, 
 His pipes to play adjusted and applied; 
 
 Each finger rested on its proper bore ; 
 
 His arm appear'd half-raised to wake the bag's uproar. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 145 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 A space he silent stood, and cast his eye 
 
 In meditation upwards to the pole, 
 As if he pray'd some fairy-power in sky 
 
 To guide his fingers right o'er bore and hole ; 
 Then pressing down his arm, he gracefully 
 
 Awaked the merry bagpipe's slumbering soul, 
 And piped and blew, and play'd so sweet a tune, 
 As might have well unsphered the reeling midnight 
 moon. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 His every finger, to its place assign'd, 
 
 Moved quivering like the leaf of aspen tree, 
 Now shutting up the skittish squeaking wind, 
 
 Now opening to the music passage free ; 
 His cheeks, with windy puffs therein confined, 
 
 Were swoll'n into a red rotundity, 
 As from his lungs into the bag was blown 
 Supply of needful air to feed the growling drone. 
 
146 
 
 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 And such a potent tune did never greet 
 The drum of human ear with lively strain ; 
 
 So merry, that from dancing on his feet 
 No man undeaf could stockishly refrain ; 
 
 So loud, 'twas heard a dozen miles complete, 
 Making old Echo pipe and hum again ; 
 
 So sweet, that all the birds in air that fly, 
 
 Charm'd into new delight, come sailing through the sky. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Crow, sparrow, linnet, hawk, and white-wing'd dove, 
 Wheel in aerial jig o'er Anster Loan; 
 
 The seamews from each Maian cleft and cove 
 O'er the deep sea come pinion-wafted on ; 
 
 The light-detesting bats now flap above, 
 
 Scaring the sun with wings to day unknown : 
 
 Round Robert's head they dance, they cry, they sing, 
 
 Shearing the subtile sky with broad and playful wing. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 147 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 And eke the mermaids that in ocean swim. 
 Drawn by that music from their shelly caves, 
 
 Peep now unbashful from the salt sea brim, 
 And flounce and plash exulting in the waves : 
 
 They spread at large the white and floating limb, 
 That Neptune amorously clips and laves, 
 
 And kem with combs of pearl and coral fair 
 
 Their long sleek oozy locks of green redundant hair. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Nor was its influence less on human ear. 
 
 First from their gilded chairs up-start at once 
 The royal James and Maggie seated near, 
 
 Enthusiastic both, and mad to dance : 
 Her hand he snatch'd, and look'd a merry leer, 
 
 Then caper'd high in wild extravagance, 
 And on the grassy summit of the knoll 
 Wagg'd each monarchial leg in galiiard strange and droll. 
 
148 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 As when a sunbeam, from the waving face 
 Of well-filFd waterpail reflected bright, 
 
 Varies upon the chamber-walls its place, 
 
 And, quivering, tries to cheat and foil the sight ; 
 
 So quick did Maggie, with a nimble grace, 
 Skip pattering to and fro, alert and light, 
 
 And, with her noble colleague in the reel, 
 
 Haughtily heaved her arms, and shook the glancing heel 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 The lords and ladies next, who sat or stood 
 Near to the piper and the King around, 
 
 Smitten with that contagious dancing-mood, 
 'Gan hand in hand in high la volt to bound, 
 
 And jigg'd it on as featly as they could, 
 Circling in sheeny rows the rising ground, 
 
 Each sworded lord a lady's soft palm griping, 
 
 And to his mettle roused at such unwonted piping. 
 
 1 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 149 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Then did th* infectious hopping-mania seize 
 The circles of the crowd that stood more near, 
 
 Till, round and round, far spreading by degrees, 
 It madden'd all the Loan to kick and rear. 
 
 Men, women, children, lilt and ramp, and squeeze, 
 Such fascination takes the general ear ; 
 
 Even babes, that at their mothers' bosoms hung, 
 
 Their little willing limbs fantastically flung. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 And hoar-hair'd men and wives, whose marrow Age 
 Hath from their hollow bones suck'd out and drunk, 
 
 Canary in unconscionable rage, 
 
 Nor feel their sinews wither'd now and shrunk. 
 
 Pell-mell in random couples they engage, 
 And boisterously wag feet, arms, and trunk, 
 
 As if they strove, in capering so brisk, 
 
 To heave their aged knees up to the solar disk. 
 
 O 
 
150 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 And cripples from beneath their shoulders fling 
 
 Their despicable crutches far away, 
 Then, yoked with those of stouter limbs, up-spring 
 
 In hobbling merriment, uncouthly gay : 
 And some on one leg stand y-gamboling ; 
 
 For why ? The other short and frail had they : 
 Some, whose both legs distorted were and weak, 
 Dance on their poor knee-pans in mad prepost'rous freak. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 So on they trip, King, Maggie, knight, and earl, 
 Green-coated courtier, satin-snooded dame, 
 
 Old men and maidens, man, wife, boy, and girl, 
 The stiff, the supple, bandy-legg'd, and lame, 
 
 All suck'd and rapt into the dance's whirl, 
 Inevitably witch'd within the same ; 
 
 Whilst Rob, far-seen, o'erlooks the huddling Loan, 
 
 Rejoicing in his pipes, and squeals serenely on. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 151 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 But such a whirling and a din there was 
 
 Of bodies and of feet that heel'd the ground, 
 
 As when the Maelstrom in his craggy jaws 
 
 Engluts the Norway waves with hideous sound. 
 
 In vain the black sea-monster plies his paws 
 'Gainst the strong- eddy that impels him round : 
 
 Rack'd and convulsed, th' ingorging surges roar, 
 
 And fret their frothy wrath, and reel from shore to shore. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 So reel the mob, and with their feet up-cast 
 From the tramp'd soil a dry and dusty cloud, 
 
 That shades the huddling hurly-burly vast 
 
 From the warm sun as with an earthy shroud ; 
 
 Else, had the warm sun spied them wriggling fast, 
 He sure had laugh'd at such bewitched crowd, 
 
 For never, since heaven's baldric first he trod, 
 
 Tripp'd was such country-dance beneath his fiery road, 
 
152 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Then was the shepherd that on Largo-law 
 
 Sat idly whistling* to his feeding flock, 
 Dismay'd, when, looking south-eastward, he saw 
 
 The dusty cloud more black than furnace-smoke : 
 He lean d his ear, and catch'd with trembling awe 
 
 The dance's sounds that th' ambient ether broke ; 
 He bless'd himself, and cried, " By sweet St John, 
 The devil hath got a job in Anster's dirty Loan." 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 At length the mighty piper, honest Rob, 
 His wonder-working melody gave o'er, 
 
 When on a sudden all the flouncing mob 
 
 Their high commotion ceased, and toss'd no more ; 
 
 Trunk, arm, and leg, forgot to shake and bob, 
 That bobb'd and shaked so parlously before ; 
 
 On ground, fatigued, the panting dancers fall, 
 
 Wond'ring what witch's craft had thus embroil'd them 
 all. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 153 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 And some cried out, that o'er the piper's head 
 
 They had observed a little female fay, 
 Glad in green gown and purple-striped plaid, 
 
 That fed his wind-bag, aidant of the play ; 
 Some, impotent to speak, and almost dead 
 
 With jumping, as on earth they sat or lay, 
 Wiped from their brows, with napkin, plaid, or gown, 
 The globes of shining sweat that ooze and trickle down. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Nor less with jig o'erlabour'd and o'erwrought, 
 
 Down on their chairs dropt Maggie and the King, 
 
 Amazed what supernatural spell had caught 
 And forced their heels into such frolicking : 
 
 And much was Mag astonish'd, when she thought 
 (As sure it was an odd perplexing thing) 
 
 That Robert's tune was to her ear the same 
 
 As what Tom Puck late play'd, when from her pot he 
 came. 
 
 02 
 
154 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 xc. 
 
 But from that hour the Monarch and the mob 
 Gave Maggie Lauder's name to Robert's tune, 
 
 And so shall it be call'd, while o'er the globe 
 Travels the waning and the crescent moon. 
 
 And from that hour the puissant piper Rob, 
 Whose bagpipe waked so hot a rigadoon, 
 
 From his well-managed bag, and drone, and chanter, 
 
 Obtain'd the glorious name of Mighty Rob the Ranter. 
 
ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
ANSTER FAIR 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 I. 
 
 O for that pond'rous broomstick, whereon rode 
 Grim Beattie Laing,* horsed daringly sublime ! 
 
 So would I fly above the solar road, 
 
 To where the Muses sit on high and chime : 
 
 Eigh ! I would kiss them in their bright abode, 
 And from their lips suck Poetry and Rhime, 
 
 Till Jove (if such my boldness should displease him) 
 
 Cry, " Fie, thou naughty boy! pack off and mount thy 
 besom." 
 
 * The famous witch of Pittenweem. See Satan's Invisible 
 World Discovered, 
 
158 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 II. 
 
 It needed not that with a third exclaim 
 
 King James's trumpeter aloud should cry, 
 Through his long alchemy, the famous name 
 
 Of him who, piping, got the victory ; 
 For, sooth to tell, man, boy, and girl, and dame, 
 
 Him the great Prince of Pipers testify, 
 Not with huzzas and jabbering of tongues, 
 But with hard-puffing breasts and dance-o'erwearied 
 lungs. 
 
 III. 
 And truly, had the crier wilFd to shout 
 
 The doughty piper's name through polish'd trump, 
 His breath had not sufficed to twang it out, 
 
 So did the poor man's lights puiF, pant, and jump : 
 Wherefore, to rest them from that dancing-bout, 
 
 Awhile they sat or lay on back or rump, 
 Gulping with open mouths and nostrils wide 
 The pure refreshing waves of Jove's aerial tide. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 159 
 
 IV. 
 
 But, unfatigued, upon the hillock's crown 
 
 Stood Rob, as if his lungs had spent no breath, 
 
 And look'd with conscious exultation down 
 Upon the dance's havock wide beneath, 
 
 Laughing to see th' encumber'd plain bestrown 
 With people whirl'd and wriggled nigh to death. 
 
 Ere long he thus addrest, with reverent air, 
 
 The King, that, breathless yet, sat puffing in his chair. 
 
 V. 
 
 " My Liege, though well I now with triple claim 
 
 The guerdon of my threefold toils may ask, 
 
 As independent of success i' the game 
 
 Of jingling words, the ballad-maker's task ; 
 
 « 
 Yet, as I too, with honourable aim, 
 
 Have tapp'd Apollo's rhime-o'erflowing cask, 
 
 Allow me, good my King, to ope my budget, 
 
 And tell my witty tale, that you and Mag may judge it." 
 
160 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 VL 
 
 Whereto his breathless King 1 made slow reply : 
 (He drew a gulp of air each word between :) 
 
 u Great — piper ! — Mighty — Rob ! — Beloved — of sky ! 
 O proved — too well thy — piping-craft — has been ; 
 
 Witness my lungs — that play so puff — ingly, 
 And witness yonder — laughter-moving scene. 
 
 I'm pinch'd for wind — Ha, ha ! — scarce breath I draw— 
 
 Pardi ! — a sight like yon my Kingship never saw. 
 
 VII. 
 ce Woe's me ! how, sweating, in prostration vast, 
 
 Men, wives, boys, maidens, lie in dust bestrown, 
 Gaping for respiration, gasping fast, 
 
 Half my liege subjects wreck'd on Anster Loan ! 
 'Twill need, methinks, a hideous trumpet-blast 
 
 To rouse them from thus grov'lling basely prone ; 
 For such effort my man's lungs yet are frail, 
 So, Rob, take thou his trump, and rouse them for thy 
 tale." 
 
 5 
 
CANTO FIFTH. l6l 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He spake,— and at the hint, the Ranter took 
 The throated metal from the herald's hand, 
 
 And blew a rousing clangour, wherewith shook 
 Green sea, and azure sky, and cloddy land. 
 
 Up-sprung, as from a trance, with startled look, 
 The prostrate people, and erected stand, 
 
 Turning their faces to the knap of ground 
 
 Whence burst upon their ears the loud assaulting sound. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then, crowding nearer in a vasty shoal, 
 
 They press their sum of carcasses more close, 
 
 Till crush'd, andcramm'd, and straiten'd round the knoll, 
 They rear and poise their bodies on their toes. 
 
 So were they pack'd and mortised, that the whole 
 Seem'd but one lump incorporate to compose ; 
 
 One mass of human trunks unmoved they show, 
 
 Topp'd with ten thousand heads all moving to and fro. 
 
 P 
 
162 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 X. 
 
 And from the tongues of all those heads there rose 
 
 A confused murmur through the multitude, 
 As when the merry gale of summer blows 
 
 Upon the tall tops of a stately wood, 
 And rocks the long consociated boughs, 
 
 Rustling amid the leaves a discord rude : 
 High perch'd aloft the cuckoo rides unseen, 
 Embower'd with plenteous shades and tufts of nodding 
 green. 
 
 XI. 
 Then waved the Ranter round and round his hand, 
 
 Commanding them to still their hubbub loud : 
 All in a moment still and noiseless stand 
 
 The widely-circumfused and heaving crowd, 
 As if upon their gums, at Rob's command, 
 
 Were pinn'd these tongues that jabber'd late so proud. 
 Tow'rds him, as to their centre, every ear 
 Inclines its mazy hole, th' expected tale to hear. 
 
CANTO FIFTH, 
 
 163 
 
 XII. 
 But when the Ranter from his height beheld 
 
 The silent world of heads diffused below, 
 With all their ears agape, his visage swell'd, 
 
 And burn'd with honest Laughter's ruddy glow ; 
 For who had not from Gravity rebell'd, 
 
 Girt with infinitude of noddles so ? 
 He soon into composure starch'd his phiz, 
 And oped his fluent mouth, and told his tale, which is— 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Where Thirdpart-house upon the level plain 
 Rears up its sooty chimneys high in air, 
 
 There lived of old, in Alexander's reign, 
 Miss Susan Scott, a lady young and fair, 
 
 Who, sith that death her parents both had ta'en, 
 Sole child, their coffers and their fields did heir, — 
 
 Their fields, that waved with Ceres' green array, 
 
 Their coffers, gorged with gold, where Mammon pri- 
 son'd lay. 
 
164? ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Her form was beauteous as the budding Spring, 
 Shaped by the mother of almighty Love ; 
 
 Her soul was but a sorry paltry thing, 
 
 As e'er was quicken'd by the breath of Jove : 
 
 Her person might have pleased a crowned King, 
 Or shone a Dryad in her Thirdpart grove; 
 
 Her soul, her silly soul, alas, to tell ! 
 
 Was as a rotten egg enclosed in golden shell. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " All day she, sitting at her window, cast 
 O'er her estate a proud and greedy eye ; 
 
 Now measuring her fields, how broad, how vast, 
 How valuably rich they sunning lie; 
 
 Now summing up the bolls that in the blast 
 Wave yet unshorn, obnoxious to the sky, 
 
 And counting, avariciously, what more 
 
 Of gold th' unsickled crop would add unto her store. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 165 
 
 XVI. 
 
 €£ But when the grim and hooded night let fall 
 O'er Thirdpart's smoky roofs her ugly shade, 
 
 She hasten'd from her candle-lighten'd hall 
 To where her darling coffer'd god was laid, 
 
 And, freeing him with key from box's thrall, 
 On floor the gaudy deity display'd, 
 
 And with a miser's fumbling palm'd each toy, 
 
 And kiss'd bare Mammon's limbs, and laugh'd in silly joy* 
 
 XVII. 
 " With her resided that famed wizard old, 
 
 Her uncle and her guardian, Michael Scott, 
 Who there, in Satan's arts malignly bold, 
 
 His books of dev'lish efficacy wrote ; 
 And, lackey'd round (tremendous to be told !) 
 
 With demons hung with tails like shaggy goat, 
 Employ'd their ministrations damn'd, to ring 
 Madrid's resounding bells, and fright the Spanish King, 
 
 P2 
 
166 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Fit guardian he for such a peevish ward : 
 
 He check'd not her perversity of soul, 
 But, hell's pernicious logic studying hard, 
 
 Gave up the lady to her own control ; 
 Thus fost'ring, by his foolish disregard, 
 
 The cank'ring vice that o'er her spirit stole. 
 Captious and proud she was, and fond of strife, 
 The pertest, prettiest jade of all the girls of Fife. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Yet not the less her beauty's wafted fame 
 A mob of suitors to her mansion drew; 
 
 Her face had charms to lure them and inflame, 
 Her dow'r had mickle fascination too. 
 
 On capering steeds from all the county came 
 Fife's sparkish lairds, all resolute to woo, 
 
 And win, with courtship's sly assiduous art, 
 
 Fair Susan's worthy dow'r, and pettish worthless heart. 
 
CANTO FIFTH, 16? 
 
 t 
 
 XX. 
 
 " So numerous were her lovers, that, in troth, 
 I scarce by name can reckon up them all : 
 
 Ardross and Largo, gallant fellows both, 
 
 Pitcorthie, ancTRANKEiLOR, and NEWHALL; 
 
 And Newark, with his coat of scarlet cloth, 
 And short Stravithy, and Rathillet tall, 
 
 And proud Balcomie with his tasselFd hat, 
 
 And Gibliston the lean, and Sauchop round and fat, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " All these, and many more love-pining men., 
 She flouted from her chamber scornfully • 
 
 To one alone she used not such disdain, 
 The goodly Charlie Melvil of Carnbee; 
 
 For he, the singly cunning of the train, 
 Enforced with costly gifts his amorous plea, 
 
 And bribed her dull affections, icy-cold, 
 
 With jewelW gairish rings, and knacks of labour'd gold. 
 
168 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXII. 
 " For every time he snatch'd her downy fist, 
 
 With its soft warmth to paddle and to play, 
 He hung a bracelet on her iv'ry wrist, 
 
 A golden bracelet like a sunbeam gay ; 
 And when her lip he rapturously kist 
 
 (A kiss she ne'er refused for such a pay), 
 He dropt upon her white neck from his hand 
 A tangled chain of gold, worth many a rood of land. 
 
 XXIII. 
 " Till of his trinkets so profuse he grew, 
 
 That soon exhausted was his purse's store, 
 And half his lands were in a month or two 
 
 Mortgaged for money to procure her more ; 
 Yet ne'er could he prevail on fro ward Sue, 
 
 Though ne'er he ceased t' importune and implore, 
 T' appoint the long-retarded marriage-day, 
 And cure his love, and give her promised hand away. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 169 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " One summer eve, as in delightful walk, 
 Handed, they past down Thirdpart's avenue, 
 
 And, in a lightsome interchange of talk, 
 Whined out their loves, as lovers use to do, 
 
 Whilst every hairy bush upon its stalk 
 
 Nodded for joy around them where it grew, 
 
 Charles took advantage of the lovely hour, 
 
 Again t' impress his suit with tongue's glib wordy power. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " * O my sweet Susan ! sweet my Susan, O ! — 
 (Here beat the poor laird his afflicted breast,) 
 
 Cast round thine eye, that eye that witches so, 
 On God's wide world in beauty's garment drest, 
 
 On yonder many-listed clouds that glow 
 
 Heaven's tapestry curtaining the blazing west, 
 
 On yonder setting rays up-shot on high, 
 
 Like tiny wires of gold aslant the gorgeous sky, 
 
170 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 (C c Look how the bushy top of every tree 
 Is mantled o'er with evening's borrow'd sheen, 
 
 And seems to wag and wave more boastfully 
 To the sweet breeze its leafy wig of green ; 
 
 Each herb, and flower, and whin, and bush, we see, 
 Laughs jocund in creation's richest scene, 
 
 Whilst earth reflects on heaven, and heaven on earth, 
 
 Of God's created things the beauty and the mirth. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " c All these are passing lovely to the view, 
 But lovelier, tenfold lovelier, are to me 
 
 Thy form and countenance, my bonny Sue ! 
 Creation's beauties all are summ'd in thee. 
 
 Thine eye out-lustres heaven's most lucid blue, 
 Thy cheek out-blooms earth's bloomiest flower and tree,, 
 
 And evening's gaudy clouds, that paint the air, 
 
 Are frippery to the locks of thy long golden hair. 
 
CA.NTO FIFTH. 171 
 
 XXVIIL 
 
 ec c Then, hey ! my sweeting, when shall come the day 
 
 Ordain'd to give me such transcendent charms ? 
 Still must I pine and fret at thy delay, 
 
 Capriciously forbidden from thy arms, 
 And, like a pair of bellows, puff away 
 
 My sighs, and swelter in hot Cupid's harms ? — 
 For Heaven's sake, Susan, on my case have pity, 
 And fix our wedding-day, my chick, my dear, my 
 pretty !'— 
 
 XXIX. 
 " This said, he, gazing on her saucy eye, 
 
 Forestalls the angry answer of her tongue ; 
 When, hark ! a sound of rushing, wildly high, 
 
 Is heard the trees adjoining from among, 
 As if a whirlwind, bursting from the sky, 
 
 Their tops on one another sore had swung ; 
 And, lo ! out springs, in maddest pitch of wrath, 
 Pitcorthie's biggest bull upon their peaceful path. 
 
172 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 <c ( Fly, fly, my love !' the generous Melvil said, 
 And interposed to meet the monster's shock ; 
 
 For fiercely rush'd he on th' endanger'd maid, 
 Mad at the glaring of her scarlet frock : 
 
 ' Fly, fly, my love !' — She turn'd about and fled, 
 With face through terror pale and white as smoke, 
 
 And left her laird, at danger of his scull, 
 
 To wrestle for his life, and parry with the bull. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " The bull's long horns he griped, and tow'rd the ground 
 Press'd down with might his hugy head robust, 
 
 Whilst, madder, thus defrauded of his wound, 
 The brawny brute his bulk still forward thrust, 
 
 And, riving with his heels the soil around, 
 
 Bespatter'd heaven with turf, and sod, and dust, 
 
 And bellow'd till each tree around him shook, 
 
 And Echo bellow'd back from her aerial nook. 
 
 6 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 173 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 iC At last th' intrepid lover, guessing well 
 
 That now far off from harm his Sue was sped, 
 
 Ungriped the horns, that, white and terrible, 
 
 From brow their long and curling menace spread ; 
 
 But scarce his grasp was loosed, when (sad to tell !) 
 Th' advantaged brute toss'd churlishly his head, 
 
 And with one horn, that suddenly uprose, 
 
 Demolished and tore off the gallant Melvii/s nose. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 £C Clean by the roots uptorn was Melvii/s nose, 
 Leaving its place deform and foul with blood : 
 
 Yet stood he not to reap some heavier blows, 
 And catch in napkin the red rushing flood ; 
 
 But, quite regardless of his face's woes, 
 He, hurrying down the alley of the wood, 
 
 Fled as if life were hung upon his heels, 
 
 Xor in his sweaty haste his nose's torment feels. 
 
 Q 
 
174 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " Thus by the mettle of his heels he bore 
 
 His life in safety from the brute away, 
 And left behind his wound's unsightly gore, 
 
 To all the wild-cats of the grove a prey. 
 Homeward, in dumpish mood, afflicted sore, 
 
 He took with lamentation loud his way, 
 Wailing his piteous bitterness of case, 
 His nasal honours crush'd, and ghastly havock'd face. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Six weeks he kept his mansion at Carnbee, 
 
 Waiting his nose's re-establishment, 
 In vain ; repair'd, alas ! it could not be, 
 
 Too sore that horn the cartilage had shent. 
 Fife's surgeons crowding came, for love of fee, 
 
 With plasters and with saws of loathsome scent, 
 In vain : what could or saw or surgeon do ? 
 Gone was the good old nose, and who could rear a new? 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 175 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Meanwhile, he ceased not twice a-week to send 
 Sweet cards to her who did his thoughts employ, 
 
 Memorials dear, which as he sat and penn'd, 
 
 Perch'd laughing on his quill Love's mighty boy, 
 
 And on the paper from its inky end 
 
 DistilFd delight, and tenderness, and joy. 
 
 His cards he sent, but (O, the sin and shame !) 
 
 From wicked shameless Sue there ne'er an answer came. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " Nor could her cruel silence be explain'd, 
 Till Fame blew up the tidings to his house, 
 
 That she, for whom his nose was marrd and pain'd, 
 To whom so long he had addrest his vows, 
 
 Had, for another, now his love disdain'd, 
 Urged by her uncle Newark to espouse ; 
 
 That publish'd were their banns, that now was iixt 
 
 The wedding to be held on Monday forenoon next. 
 
176 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " Then was the heart of injured Melvil rent 
 With bitter passion at a slight so base ; 
 
 That moment up he started, with intent 
 To go and chide th* apostate to her face : 
 
 Forth from his house in surly chafe he went, 
 ApparelPd in his coat of golden lace, 
 
 And eastward took his way, alone and sad, 
 
 Half cursing, in his heart, a maid so base and bad. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " But when the little boys and girls surveyed 
 His lack-nose visage as he traveled by, 
 
 Some to their mothers' houses ran, afraid, 
 To tell them what a face had met their eye ; 
 
 Some with their fingers pointed undismay'd, 
 Giggling and blithe at his deformity ; 
 
 Even ploughmen, at the road-edge, paused from toil, 
 
 And held their sturdy sides, and loudly laugh'd awhile. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 177 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Yet onward held the hapless laird his gait, 
 Regardless of their mockery and scorn ; 
 
 His sole vexation was the girl ingrate, 
 
 In whose defence his beauty had been shorn. 
 
 He soon attain'd the ample hall, where sate, 
 In morning dishabille, the fair forsworn ; 
 
 And, entering boldly in his angry mood, 
 
 With grimly-flatten'd face before her frowning stood. 
 
 XLI. 
 " c Fie, Horror ! who art thou/ she scoffing said, 
 
 9 That with defeature horrible to see, 
 Darest thus into my room advance thy stride, 
 
 To fright my lapdog and to sicken me ? 
 Go, hie thee homeward, thou deform, and hide 
 
 That aspect in the dingles of Carnbee ; 
 There with thy rabbits burrow thee, till sprout 
 Forth from between thy cheeks a beautifying snout/ 
 
 Q2 
 
178 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " This said, th' insulting* creature from her chair, 
 Red with resentment, on a sudden springs, 
 
 And bolting forward with a saucy air, 
 
 Her shapely person from the chamber flings, 
 
 Leaving her honest laird confounded there, 
 Heart-anguish *d by vexation's sharpest stings, 
 
 That he may vent his anger and his fume 
 
 On the fair carved chairs that decorate her room. 
 
 XLIII. 
 " He got no long time to displode and vent 
 
 On the fair chairs his bosom-choking ire ; 
 For, from his closet by Miss Susan sent, 
 
 Sir Michael rush'd, the sorcerer stout and dire, 
 With staff in hand, to rattle chastisement 
 
 Upon the ribs and backbone of the squire : 
 He beat him from the house with magic stick, 
 And added surly words, and rude discourteous kick. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 179 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " Poor Melvil ! grieved, and mortified, and dampt, 
 His back he turn'd upon th' uncivil door, 
 
 And, musing* vengeance, down the alley trampt, 
 As boiFd his heart with indignation o'er. 
 
 He bit his lip, and cursed the soil, and stamp t, 
 Chafing his wrath with imprecation more ; 
 
 For what man, so misused, could have forborne 
 
 To ban Sir Michael Scott, and Sue the fair forsworn? 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " So down the avenue he banning past, 
 
 Scarce conscious whither in his fret he went, 
 
 Till twilight tenanted the sky at last, 
 Pavilioning o'er earth her sable tent, 
 
 And the round moon, up-wheeling from the vast 
 Of sea, in pomp of clouds magnificent, 
 
 Embellish'd, with her sober silvery shine, 
 
 The leaves and barky trunks of Thirdpart's fir and pine* 
 
180 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " ' Alas ! was e'er like me poor lover crost, 
 (He thus aloud deplored his wretched case,) 
 
 So fool'd, abused, and cocker'd to my cost, 
 So beaten into sorrow and disgrace ! 
 
 Was't not enough that for the jade I lost 
 The rising honours of my ruin'd face ; 
 
 But, like a hedge-born beggar, tatters-hung, 
 
 Thus from her hated gate I must be switch'd and flung? 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " e May vengeance seize thee, thou foul wizard churl, 
 For basting me at such an irksome rate ! 
 
 May Satan gripe thee by the heel, and hurl 
 
 Thy carcass whizzing through helFs hottest gate ! 
 
 And as for thee, thou proud ungrateful girl, 
 Whose baseness, to my grief, I know too late, 
 
 May some good power, the injured lover's friend,, 
 
 On thy perfidious head a wing d requital send !' 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 181 
 
 XLVIII. 
 " His prayer he thus ejaculating spake, 
 
 Nor knew that some good power was nigh to hear ; 
 For in the middle of a flowery brake, 
 
 That, white with moonshine, spread its thicket near, 
 Lay Tommy Puck, the gentle fay, awake, 
 
 And Mrs Puck, his gentle lady dear, 
 Basking and lolling in the lunar ray, 
 And tumbling up and down in brisk fantastic play. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 ei Quoth frisky Tommy to his elfin wife, 
 
 c Didst thou not hear the gentleman, my chuck ? 
 
 'Tis young Carnbee, the sweetest laird of Fife, 
 Whom sour Sir Michael with his cane has struck. 
 
 What think ye ? — By Titania's precious life ! 
 Fits it not now the tender-hearted Puck 
 
 T' assist an injured lover, and to plot 
 
 A scheme of nice revenge on Sue and Michael Scott?' 
 
182 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 L. 
 
 " c Surely, my dear !' his fairy consort said, * 
 ' Go forth, and to the man address thy talk/ 
 
 This heard, he from his bushy arbour's shade 
 Flung out his minim stature on the walk, 
 
 And stood in dwarfish finery array'd, 
 
 Gaudy as summer-bean's bloom-cover'd stalk. 
 
 He doff'd his hat, and made a bow profound, 
 
 And thus bespoke the laird in words of pleasing* sound, 
 
 LI. 
 
 u Q Marvel not, Melvil, that before thy feet 
 
 I plant me thus in fearless attitude ; 
 For I have heard, within my close retreat, 
 
 What thou hast utter'd in thy fretful mood ; 
 And well I know thy truth how with deceit 
 
 Repaid, thy faith with base ingratitude. 
 Good soul ! I pity thee with all my heart, 
 And therefore from my bush to thy assistance start. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 1SS 
 
 LII. 
 
 " c For much it grieves Tom Puck's too feeling breast, 
 
 That one so good, so liberal and true, 
 Should thus become a laughter and a jest, 
 
 Mock'd, jilted, beaten into black and blue. 
 I like to help whom malice has opprest, 
 
 And prompt a lover generous as you ; 
 So with attention list what I propose, 
 To baffle, and avenge, and laugh to scorn your foes. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 u e On Monday next, th' appointed wedding-day, 
 For perjured Sue her Newark to espouse, 
 
 When her long hall with feasting shall be gay, 
 And smoke with meats, with riot, and with bouse, 
 
 From thy paternal mansion haste away, 
 
 At height of noon, to Thirdpart's bustling house, 
 
 That thou, by time of dinner, may be there, 
 
 Prepared to climb the steps of her detested stair. 
 
184 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 cc c And when th' exulting- bridegroom and his bride, 
 Surrounded with their festive spousal train, 
 
 Are seated at their tables long and wide, 
 
 Wielding* their noisy forks and knives amain, 
 
 Then burst into the hall with dauntless stride, 
 Through menials, greasy cooks, and serving-men, 
 
 Nor speak a word though in thy way they stand, 
 
 But dash the scroyls aside with swing of boist'rous hand. 
 
 LV. 
 
 r ' Surprise, be sure, shall seize the feasters all 
 At such a bold intruder on their treat ; 
 
 Their forks, half-lifted to their mouths, shall fall 
 Down on their plates, unlighten'd of their meat ; 
 
 Yet speak not still, but, casting round the hall 
 An eye whose every glance is fire and threat, 
 
 Thou in a corner of the room shalt see 
 
 Sir Michael's magic staff, the same that basted thee. 
 
 5 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 185 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " e Snatch up that magic energetic stick, 
 And, in thy clench'd hand wielding it with might, 
 
 On Michael's white bald pate discharge thou quick 
 A pelt enough to stun the wizard wight. 
 
 Strange consequence shall follow from that lick ; 
 Yet be not thou amazed or struck with fright, 
 
 But, springing to the table's upper end, 
 
 Let on his niece's nose an easier pat descend. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " e I will not now unfold what odd event 
 From either stroke will suddenly ensue ; 
 
 Enough to know, that plenteous punishment 
 Shall light on grim Sir Michael and on Sue. 
 
 Go— by your nose's cure, be confident 
 
 That Tommy Puck aright thus counsels you.' — 
 
 This said, he, from a vial silver-bright, 
 
 Pour'd out upon his palm a powder small and white; 
 
 R 
 
186 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LVIII. 
 t€ And to his mouth up-lifting it, he blows 
 
 The magic dust on Melvii/s blemish'd face, 
 When (such its power) behold, another nose 
 
 Sprouts out upon the scarr'd and skinless place, 
 And to th' astonish'd moon, fair-jutting, shows 
 
 Its supplemental eleganee and grace : 
 Which done, he, shining like a bright glow-worm, 
 Plunged deep amid the brake his puny pretty form. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " Amaze had taken Melvil, when appear'd 
 
 Erect before his steps the pigmy fay ; 
 Yet not with less attention had he heard 
 
 What courteous Tommy did so kindly say : 
 That heart, late vex'd and tortured, now was cheer'd, 
 
 And merrily beat in hope's delightful play. 
 Homeward he jogg'd from Thirdpart's haunted shade, 
 Proud of his novel nose, and Tommy's tender'd aid. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 187 
 
 LX. 
 
 " Arrived the day when saucy Sue should wed 
 Young Newark, vap'ring in his scarlet coat ; 
 
 From his paternal mansion Melvil sped 
 
 To Thirdpart-house, t' achieve his ready plot. 
 
 Twas dinner-time; the tables all were spread 
 With luscious sirloins reeking richly hot, 
 
 Gravies and pies, and steaming soups of hare, 
 
 And roasted hen and goose, and titbits nice and rare. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " Sue at the table's place of honour sat, 
 Dealing the warm broth from its vessel out ; 
 
 Whilst, slashing with his knife through lean and fat, 
 Carved at the lower end Sir Michael stout. 
 
 'Twas nought but mirth, and junketing, and chat, 
 And handing wings and legs of fowl about, 
 
 And noise of silver spoons, and clank and clatter 
 
 Of busy forks and knives, of porringer and platter. 
 
188 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " Squire Melvil heard without the dinner's din, 
 Nor tarried, but, with brisk and boist'rous bound, 
 
 Jump'd up the stairs, and rudely rushing in, 
 
 Dash'd down whom standing in his way he found. 
 
 Menials and apron'd cooks of greasy chin, 
 
 Fist-founder'd, went a-rapping to the ground, 
 
 With all their loads of sauces, meats, and plates, 
 
 In ruin fat and rich hurFd on their pitiful pates. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 ft Astonish'd were the feasters when they view'd 
 Such bold intruder stand before their eyes ; 
 
 The morsels in their mouths that lay half-chew'd 
 Could not be swallow'd through their great surprise ; 
 
 Their half-raised forks, bestuck with gobbets good, 
 Dropt, as if impotent more high to rise; 
 
 Each on his neighbour cast a meaning stare, 
 
 As if he dumbly ask'd, What does Squire Melvil there? 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 189 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 " 'Twas for a moment silent in the hall, 
 As if pale Death, the chapless and the grim, 
 
 Had taken by the throat, and choked them all, 
 With his long, flesh! ess, scraggy fingers slim ; 
 
 Till, throwing round his glance from wall to^wall, 
 The squire discern'd the staff with tassel trim, 
 
 Sir Michael's staff with head of silver white, 
 
 Wherewith he was enjoin'd its owner's poll to smite. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " He flew, he grasp'd it by its silver rind, 
 And to the ceiling swinging it on high, 
 
 Brought down on Michael's pate, as quick as wind, 
 A pelt that whizz'd and rattled horribly : 
 
 Sounded his bald scull with the stroke unkind, 
 Re-echoing in each lore-fill'd cavity, 
 
 When, O the wonder ! on his high arm-chair, 
 
 Changed was the churlish knight that instant to a hare. 
 
 R2 
 
190 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " His dainty head, with learning so replete, 
 
 Collapsed, grew round, and little, and long-ear'd ; 
 
 His arms, that yet were stretched to carve the meat, 
 Quite shrunken into two fore-legs appear'd ; 
 
 His brawny thighs turn'd hind-legs on his seat, 
 Whereon his metamorphosed form was rear'd ; 
 
 And, to complete the quadruped, out sprouted 
 
 A short tail from his rump, with plenteous hair about it. 
 
 LXVIL 
 
 " He sat not long, so transmew'd, on his chair, 
 But, lighting on the carpet-cover'd floor, 
 
 Scudded as swift as lightning down the stair, 
 On his four bestial legs, to gain the door. 
 
 c Hollo !' cried boy and groom, ' A hare ! a hare V 
 As flew he from the house their eyes before : 
 
 * Hollo ! let loose on Puss the fleet greyhound V 
 
 Was bawFd in Thirdpart's court from one to t'other 
 round. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 191 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " UnkennelFd in a twink was fleet greyhound, 
 And after Puss commenced the keen pursuit ; 
 
 O'er plough'd, o'er sown, o'er green, o'er fallow ground, 
 With lev'ret craft, and wile of weary foot, 
 
 With skip, and scud, and ditch-o'erleaping bound, 
 The wizard ran in guise of hairy brute, 
 
 While, snufling out with sapient nose his track, 
 
 Came yelling at his heels all Thirdpart's clam'rous pack, 
 
 LXIX. 
 " Eastward they scour'd, out-scampering the gale, 
 
 Long-winded dog and pursy panting hare, 
 Till, taking refuge in the streets of Crail, 
 
 Sir Michael plunged him in a jaw-hole there, 
 And left without his foes with wagging tail, 
 
 Worrying the sky with bark of loud despair, 
 As he, secure, was fain to slink and cuddle 
 Encaved beneath the street, within his miry puddle. 
 
192 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " There let us leave the knight to cuddle fain, 
 And long-tongued dog to volley out his yell, 
 
 And turn we to the banquet-hall again, 
 Where Michael's metamorphosis befell. 
 
 No sooner saw the squire that not in vain 
 The staff had lighted, but succeeded well, 
 
 Than, bounding up to where jilt Susan sat, 
 
 On her fair nose's bridge he brought a gentle pat. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " A second miracle ensues ; for, lo ! 
 
 That nose, her countenance's pride and grace, 
 Grows out, and shoots, and lengthens at the blow, 
 
 Ridiculously sprouting from her face ; 
 And aye it swells and beetles moe and moe, 
 
 Tapering to such a length its queer disgrace, 
 That dips its point at last amid the broth 
 That near her lies in dish upon the tablecloth. 
 
 5 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 193 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 " Nor did her aspect only suffer shame ; 
 
 For, in proportion as extends her nose, 
 Her shoulders, late so beautiful of frame, 
 
 Into a hump upheaving, hugely rose, 
 Most mountainous and high, as ill became 
 
 Fair bride array'd in sumptuous wedding-clothes ; 
 Her very gown was burst and riven through 
 With the large fleshy swell, so strangely big it grew. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " Then shook the room with laughter's frequent crack, 
 As saw the guests each droll excrescence rise ; 
 
 One pointed to her still-upheaving back, 
 One to her nose's still-enlarging size : 
 
 e Ha ! ha !' from every squire's throat loudly brake ; 
 6 Te-hee !' each lady chuckles and replies; 
 
 ' Heav'ns, what a hideous nose !' cried every dame ; 
 
 c Heav'ns, what a hideous hump V did every laird ex- 
 claim. 
 
194 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 iC Such was the punishment which silly Sue 
 From her resentful much-wrong'd lover bore ; 
 
 And so was sour Sir Michael punish'd too, 
 For caning honest Melvil from her door. 
 
 Wherefore, as now the work of vengeance due 
 Was finish'd, Charlie left her chamber-floor, 
 
 And turn'd his face, rejoicing, towards home, 
 
 Muttering his grateful thanks to little elfin Tom." 
 
ANSTER FAIK. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 I. 
 
 Gay-hearted I began my playful theme, 
 But with a heavy heart I end my song ; 
 
 For I am sick of life's delirious dream, 
 
 Sick of this world and all its weight of wrong. 
 
 Even now, when I again attempt to stream 
 My merry verse, as I was wont, along, 
 
 'Tween every sportive thought there now and then 
 
 Flows a sad serious tear upon my playful pen. 
 
 S 
 
198 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 II. 
 
 Scarce had the victor ceased his hindmost clause, 
 When, from th' immensity of folk afar, 
 
 Rose such a hideous shout of loud applause, 
 As ever stunn'd with outcry sun or star. 
 
 Each tongue grew riotous within its jaws, 
 Clacking an acclamation popular ; 
 
 Hands, high o'erhead uplifted, round and round, 
 
 Struck plausive palm on palm, andclapt a rattling sound ; 
 
 III. 
 
 And twice ten thousand hats, aloft upthrown, 
 In black ascension, blot heaven's blue serene, 
 
 O'ercanopying Anster's crowded Loan 
 
 With crown and rim, as with a dusky screen ; 
 
 And bonnets broad, and caps of sharp'ning cone, 
 Afloat 'twixt earth and firmament are seen ; 
 
 And lasses' cowls and hoods, uptost on high, 
 
 Encroach with tawdry clout upon the clouds of sky. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 199 
 
 IV. 
 
 As when a troop of locusts, famine-pined, 
 
 From Edom's unblest monster-breeding womb, 
 
 Sail on the hot wings of the southern wind, 
 Wriggling aloft their sky-hung mass of gloom ; 
 
 And where El Sham's clear golden riv'lets wind, 
 Through her gay gardens distributing bloom, 
 
 They light, and spread their devastation round, 
 
 Bepainting black as pitch the green luxuriant ground : 
 
 V. 
 
 Just such a darkness mounts into the sky, 
 Of hat and hood, of bonnet and of cap, 
 
 So thick, that those who swing them up on high 
 Below i' th' shade are heard to shout and clap ; 
 
 For still the folk applaud it lustily, 
 
 And pain their tingling palms with noisy rap, 
 
 Expressing thus, with deaf 'ning acclamation, 
 
 Of Robert's merry tale their hearty approbation. 
 
200 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Nor sits the Monarch idle to th' acclaim ; 
 
 But, rising up majestic from his chair, 
 With kingly praise augments the Victor's fame, 
 
 And, clapping, grinds between his palms the air ; 
 Then seizes he the fingers of the Dame, 
 
 And gently raising from her seat the fair, 
 He, as the sign and seal of marriage-band, 
 Slips into Robert's grasp his Maggie's tender hand. 
 
 VII. 
 
 He bade his choir of trumpeters apply 
 
 To mouth their hollow instruments of sound, 
 
 And, in an unison of clangour high, 
 
 Publish the marriage to the world around. 
 
 The fellows blew it to the peak of sky, 
 
 And sky sent down again the loud rebound ; 
 
 Earth did to heaven's high top the news up-throw, 
 
 And heaven rebruited back th' alarum down below. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 201 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But now the beam-hair'd coursers of the sun, 
 
 All smoking with their fiery hot fatigue, 
 Their task of charioting had pranced and run, 
 
 And hurFd in sea their hissing golden gig ; 
 Their unshorn driver had but just begun 
 
 Beyond the Isle of Bute the wave to swig ; 
 And, twinkling o'er Auld Reekie's smoke afar, 
 Peep'd through heaven's mantle blue the modest even- 
 ing-star. 
 
 IX. 
 And soon the moon, in hood of silver drest, 
 
 All glistering and gladsome as may be, 
 Forth from her glorious casement in the east 
 
 Look'd laughing down upon both land and sea, 
 And on the bosom of the darkening west 
 
 Her pearly radiance shot rejoicingly : 
 Also the heads of all that fill the Loan 
 Wax'd yellow with the rays that on them streaming 
 shone. 
 
 S2 
 
202 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 X. 
 
 Wherefore, as now the damp nocturnal air 
 
 Began to dribble down its chilly dew, 
 And as of all the business of the Fair 
 
 Nought now remain'd upon the green to do, 
 The herald, from beside the Monarch's chair, 
 
 Abroad the signal of dispersion blew, 
 That the wild multitude, dispread around, 
 Should now break up its mass, and leave the nighted 
 ground. 
 
 XL 
 Which heard, the congregated folk upbroke 
 
 With loud disruption their diffusion vast, 
 And, split and shoaling off in many a flock, 
 
 With homeward squeeze they turbulently past. 
 Beneath their feet the pillar'd earth did rock, 
 
 As up to Jove a dusty cloud they cast, 
 That blear'd the bright eyes of night's glimmering queen, 
 And choked the brilliant stars, and dimm'd their twink- 
 ling sheen. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 203 
 
 XII. 
 
 And such the clutter was, when shoal from shoal 
 With violent impulse was torn and riven. 
 
 As when the vaulting ice that floors the pole, 
 Touch'd by the fiery shafts of warming heaven, 
 
 Splits into fractured isles, that crash and roll 
 Diverse, athwart the molten ocean driven : 
 
 The Greenland boatman hears the noise afar, 
 
 And blesses for its heat day's winter-routing star. 
 
 XIII. 
 So loudly rush'd from Anster's cumbered Loan 
 
 The burthenous and bustling multitude, 
 Kicking th' o'ertrampled earth they trod upon 
 
 With saucy heel in their impetuous mood. 
 Some to their tents of blanket jump'd anon, 
 
 That on the fields and crofts adjoining stood ; 
 Some to their booths and houses in the town 
 Hie hot with huddling haste, and hop and hurry down. 
 
204 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Meanwhile, the King, as now sufficient space 
 Was for his passage clear'd about the mound, 
 
 Descended from his lofty honour'd place, 
 
 Where sat he 'mid his gallant courtiers round. 
 
 Close at his right hand downward walk'd, with grace, 
 The well-earn'd prize, bright Maggie the renown'd 
 
 While the great Victor at his other side 
 
 Attended blithe and brisk, exulting in his bride. 
 
 XV. 
 
 On their brave nags their persons up they swing, 
 And to the borough gently jogging ride, 
 
 Hemm'd thick around with an illustrious ring 
 Of gay court-ladies, trooping side by side, 
 
 And lords, whose coats, with gold lace spangled, fling 
 Back on th' abashed moon her beamy pride, 
 
 And jolly knights, and booted esquires stout, 
 
 And burghers, clowns, and boys, a noisy rabble-rout. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 205 
 
 XVI. 
 
 As downward to the town they tramp and trot, 
 
 The mingled peals of gratulation rise ; 
 For, on their catlings, fiddlesticks, I wot, 
 
 Bicker'd and skipt in funny furious wise, 
 And trumpet rear'd again its solemn note 
 
 Sonorously, assailant on the skies, 
 Full loudly lifting, in a jocund tune, 
 The name of Ranter Rob up to the man i' the moon. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And sounding cymbals clink and ring sublime, 
 
 Clash'd overhead in lofty unison, 
 And fife and flute in merry whistle chime, 
 
 Soothing the lulled ear with dulcet tone, 
 While aye the bass-drum, at his proper time, 
 
 Swallows the music with his sudden groan ; 
 Till drum, flute, cymbal, trumpet, all are drown'd 
 In shouts that pealing rise from the mad mob around. 
 
206 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Thus rode the train, as if in triumph, down, 
 
 Exulting, through the night's moon-gilded shade, 
 
 Till, reaching Maggie's quarter of the town, 
 Stops at her house the splendid cavalcade ; 
 
 (For be it now, my good co-townsmen, known, 
 
 That in th' East-green's best house fair Maggie staid, 
 
 Near where St Ayle's small lodge, in modern day, 
 
 Admits to mystic rites her bousy masons gay.) 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A* Maggie's door they stopp'd; when, lighting there, 
 The bridegroom brisk, and jolly-minded King, 
 
 And showy nobleman, and lady fair, 
 
 From pad and saddle on the causey spring, 
 
 And, passing in due order up her stair, 
 The good landlady to her chamber bring, 
 
 A pomp of rare attendance brave and bright, 
 
 With sweetly-biting jest, and joke of dear delight. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 207 
 
 XX. 
 
 In her torch-brighten'd chamber down they sate 
 
 Upon her chairs jocundly one and all, 
 And exercise their tongues in social prate. 
 
 Till Maggie's cooks and James's seneschal 
 May well prepare and range each supper-plate 
 
 On her long table in her dining-hall. 
 There let us leave awhile King, Lord, and Lady, 
 And saunter through the town till supper's fare be ready. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Heavens ! how from street to street the people reel, 
 As if they knew not where to rush for joy ! 
 
 How rocks the causey with incessant heel 
 
 Of hurrying man, and wife, and maid, and boy ! 
 
 From lane and wynd the sounds of gladness peal, 
 Hitting the stars with clamorous annoy, 
 
 As all the houses' walls and roofs are bright 
 
 With bonfire's yellow glow, and candles' gentler light* 
 
208 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 For in each window's every pane is seen, 
 Stuck into fitly-fashion'd wood or clay, 
 
 A tallow-candle flinging forth its sheen 
 
 T' augment th' illumination's bright display : 
 
 How flame the houses with a lustre keen. 
 In emulation of the sun-bright day ! 
 
 Even the poor old wife's back-room window glows, 
 
 Gilding the good green kail that underneath it grows 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 While in each well-paved street and alley strait, 
 And at the Cross, and up along the Loan, 
 
 Their spiry curls huge bonfires elevate, 
 
 Cracking with heat the ground and causey-stone ; 
 
 For every bonfire was a cart-load great 
 
 Of Dysart coal, that redly flash'd and shone, 
 
 Emblazing with its tongues of flame so bright, 
 
 The dusk and smutty brow of star-bestudded night. 
 
 1 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 209 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 And gawntress'd round each ruddy fire about, 
 
 Hogsheads of porter and of cheery ale 
 Forth from their little gurgling bungholes spout 
 
 Their genial streams in tankard, pot, and pail. 
 O 'twas a wild notorious guzzling-bout ! 
 
 That night no throat was narrow or was frail, 
 But, in long draught delicious, swallow'd down 
 The barley's mantling cream, and beverage stout and 
 brown. 
 
 XXV. 
 (Not from thy brewhouse's well-barrelTd store, 
 
 O Roger ! comes a drink of stronger proof* 
 Though foams thy hearty ale the tankard o'er, 
 
 And sends its cork a- thundering to the roof:) 
 Even ancient men, whose hairs were thin and hoar, 
 
 Then staid not from the fuddle's fun aloof, 
 But drank till every head was giddy turning, 
 And to their reeling eyes each fire in sky seem'd burning, 
 
 T 
 
210 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Yet not all night each brisk warm-blooded boy 
 Sat drinking* with his sweetheart blithe and boon ; 
 
 They, on the Loan, in many a reel employ 
 Their bouncing bodies wriggling to the moon, 
 
 And almost wince away their heels for joy, 
 Tossing and riving their dance- bursten shoon, 
 
 Whilst, ever and anon, or ere she wist, 
 
 Smack by her partner dear each bonny lass was kiss'd. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Such out of doors was the disport and bouse, 
 But higher was the pitch of joy within : 
 
 That night was Anster's every barn and house 
 Converted into tippling-shop and inn ; 
 
 Garrets and bed-rooms reek with hot carouse, 
 And steaming punch of whisky and of gin ; 
 
 The kitchen fires are crowded round and round 
 
 With rings of lively lads that swig their bowls profound. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 211 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Hey ! how their glasses jingle merrily ! 
 
 How rings the table with their revel-roar ! 
 How, as they toast their Mag with three times three, 
 
 Sounds with loud heel the vex'd, tormented floor ! 
 They sing, they clap, they laugh with honest glee ; 
 
 Were never seen such merry men before ! 
 Through window glass and stony wall bursts out 
 Abroad on night's dull ear the wassail's frequent shout. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But now, in Maggie's tapestry-decked hall, 
 Served is the sumptuous marriage-supper up, 
 
 And clean neat-handed cook and seneschal 
 
 Hath set each mess, and dish, and plate, and cup ; 
 
 So down in seemly order sit they all, 
 With stomachs stiff and resolute to sup, 
 
 And set their griding forks and knives to work 
 
 On turkey, goose, and hen, cold veal, and cheek of pork. 
 
212 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Behoves it not my hardship to relate 
 
 What various viands burden'd Maggie's board, 
 What lay on this, and what on t'other plate, 
 
 What lady first was help'd, and by what lord, 
 What mess the King", and what the others ate : 
 
 That would be tedious trifling, 'pon my word ; 
 I will not do't, though I could tell, in sooth, 
 How oft each fork was raised to every munching* mouth. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Suffice it, good my townsmen, that ye know, 
 That there fastidious teeth found pleasant food ; 
 
 That all the cates which kingly banquets show 
 Were spread before them, fragrant, rich, and good ; 
 
 And that, though some ate less and some ate moe, 
 Each ate as much, be certain, as he could, 
 
 Till, tired at last of piddling with their gums, 
 
 They eased of knife and fork their fingers and their 
 thumbs. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 213 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But when the sound of teeth had ceased i' the hall, 
 And fork and knife lay idle on their plate, 
 
 And guest and hostess, backward leaning all, 
 Their toothpicks now were plying*, saturate, 
 
 Up from his seat arose the bridegroom tall, 
 Where to his blooming spouse opposed he sate, 
 
 And, ere the tablecloth was ta'en away, 
 
 He turn'd him to the King, and thus addrest his say :-— 
 
 XXXIIL 
 
 " Think not, my Liege, that fortune or that chance 
 To-day hath made me in my conquest blest, 
 
 Impelling me by casual circumstance 
 
 To jump without a warrant like the rest : 
 
 'Twas not alone with Heaven's high sufferance 
 I put my jumping-prowess to the test ; 
 
 'Twas by its order I in sack was bound ; 
 
 'Twas with its favour, too, that I my bride have found. 
 
 T2 
 
214} ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 ce Nor deem that some dumb beldam, Satan's tool, 
 
 Or wily witch, or second-sighted seer, 
 Hath, oracling, deceived me like a fool, 
 
 To think I to supernal power am dear : 
 No, Monarch ; by the cowl of old St Rule, 
 
 I heard the order with no proxy ear, 
 And with my own true eye unfalsified, 
 I even upon my chair the goodly vision spied. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " For, on an evening in December last, 
 
 ('Twas just the evening of that day whereon 
 
 The stout-lung'd criers through the Border past, 
 Proclaiming what should hap in Anster Loan,) 
 
 As down to supper's sober cool repast 
 I sat me in my dining-room alone, 
 
 Musing upon the late heard news so odd, 
 
 Blown from the trump of fame and crier's throat abroad ; 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 215 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " I happen'd in my fingers up to take 
 
 The pepper-box, where lurk'd my spicy stores, 
 
 And held it o'er my plate, intent to shake 
 The fragrant atoms from its little bores, 
 
 When, as my hand inverted it, there brake 
 Out from the lid's small perforated pores 
 
 A stream of beauteous smoke, that, like a mist, 
 
 Curl'd its delicious wreaths around my shaded fist. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " Astonish'd at the prodigy, I threw 
 The steaming box upon the tablecloth, 
 
 When, more with miracle t' amaze my view, 
 It frisk'd and trotted 'mid the plates, i' troth, 
 
 And ceased not from its numerous holes to spue 
 Its incense, white as flakes of ocean froth, 
 
 Up-sending to the ceiling of the room 
 
 Its supernat'ral flux of pure and fragrant fume. 
 
216 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " I sat and gazed — not long ; when, strange to say, 
 Forth from that reeky pillar's paly base 
 
 Started at once a little female fay, 
 
 Giggling and blithely laughing in my face. 
 
 Her height was as the lily, that in May 
 
 Lifts to the sun her head's envermeil'd grace, 
 
 Her beauty as the rays of various glow 
 
 That glorify the length of heaven's sea-drinking bow. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " The gown in which her elfship was array'd, 
 Like to the peacock's painted feather shined, 
 
 And on the tablecloth redundant spread 
 Its lustrous train for half a foot behind ; 
 
 Over her breast her purple-striped plaid 
 Lay floating loose and thin as woven wind ; 
 
 And gorgeous was her head-dress as the hue 
 
 Of Iris-flower, that spreads her velvet petals blue. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 21 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Deck'd was her neck's circumference with row 
 Of diamonds, strung on thread in costly band^ 
 
 Small pearly berries that are wont to grow 
 Upon the bushes of old Fairyland ; 
 
 And in each diamond's orb so fair in show, 
 My candle's image burning seem'd to stand, 
 
 That her white slender neck was all in gleam, 
 
 Doubly impearled thus with light's reflected beam. 
 
 XLI. 
 " And pendent from her neck by golden thread, 
 
 A little dangling silver lute I saw, 
 Of fashion rare, and quaintly polished, 
 
 Not thicker than a pipe of oaten straw. 
 She laugh 'd and nodded courteously her head, 
 
 Belike to clear away my doubt and awe ; 
 For, sooth to say, I was not unafear'd, 
 When from my pepper-box good lady fay appear'd. 
 
218 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLIL 
 
 " She dropt a curtsy, reverently low, 
 
 And thus bespoke in clear and mellow voice ; 
 
 'Twas sweeter than the chiming" winds that blow 
 Upon th' iEolian harp a whiffled noise : — 
 
 ' Excuse me, good your worship, that I so 
 
 With my quaint presence mar your supper's joys : 
 
 I have some little matter to impart ; 
 
 'Twill not detain you long-. Nay, Robert, do not start. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " c Compose thee, Squire, and calmly give thine ear 
 To what shall from my gentle mouth proceed, 
 
 For mickle shall it profit thee to hear 
 And prize aright the value of my rede ; 
 
 And be assured thy person, Rob, is dear 
 To the slim creatures of the fairy breed, 
 
 That thus I peer from out my box of spice, 
 
 To tender, for thy weal, my uncompell'd advice. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 219 
 
 XLIV. 
 " c Hast thou not heard the wondrous news to-day, 
 
 Through all the marches of the Border blown, 
 Of sports, and games, and celebrations gay, 
 
 Promulgate to be held in Anster Loan, 
 And that a maid the victor's toils shall pay, 
 
 A maid whose beauty is exceird by none ? 
 Thou hast — and I surprised thee deep in muse, 
 A-pond'ring on th' import of such amazing news. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 u ' Go, when o'er Cockraw peeps light's golden horn, 
 And seek a supple ass whereon to ride ; 
 
 Go, seek a long sack, sturdy and untorn, 
 
 Wherein to jump with drolly-trammell'd stride; 
 
 Go, seek a bagpipe whose wind-pouch, unworn, 
 May well the wrath of prison'd breath abide ; 
 
 Go, set thy brain to work like vat of ale, 
 
 And skim thou off for Mag some smart ingenious tale. 
 
220 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 t€ ' And know, when at the Loan is tried thy skill, 
 Thy ass I'll nettle on with spur unseen ; 
 
 Into thy bones and sinews I'll instil 
 
 Great vigour to o'erjump the quaking green ; 
 
 Thy bagpipe's pouch with tempest I will fill, 
 Lending thy tune a witchery not mean ; 
 
 And from thy study-rack'd perplexed brains 
 
 A merry tale I'll squeeze, the helpmate of thy pains. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " c So shalt thou, Squire, in Scotland's view be crown'd 
 
 Upon the spot with victory and fame, 
 And ride a happy bridegroom from the ground, 
 
 Elate, and glorying in thy peerless dame : 
 Yet when thy toil's transcendent prize is found, 
 
 And marriage-revelries thy joy proclaim, 
 I charge thee, as my aid shall make thee blest, 
 Forget not what I now, as to my box, request. 
 
 5 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 221 
 
 XLVIII. 
 " ' This box — this pepper-box — this homely shrine, 
 
 Wherein confined by wizard spell I stay, 
 Must be transported in a pouch of thine, 
 
 When thou to Anster Loan dost take thy way ; 
 And when thou down to marriage-feast and wine 
 
 Shalt sit in Maggie's hall, a bridegroom gay, 
 Then from thy pocket draw it in a trice, 
 And on the tablecloth lay down the box of spice. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " ' Ask not the purport of my odd behest, 
 'Twill be unriddled in the proper place ; 
 
 'Tis thine t' effect the task, and leave the rest 
 
 To Madam Puck's good complaisance and grace.'— 
 
 Here Madam Puck her piping voice supprest, 
 And, with a sweet smile on her little face, 
 
 Rear'd up the small lute in her lily fist, 
 
 And with her rose-red lip its furbish'd silver kiss'd. 
 
 U 
 
222 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 L. 
 
 " She play'd a tune so delicate and sweet, 
 So overpowering with its ravishment, 
 
 That sit I could no longer on my seat, 
 
 But up and capering o'er my chamber went, 
 
 As if within the soles of both my feet 
 A store of frisky mercury was pent; 
 
 (And, by the bye, 'twas just the tune with which 
 
 My bagpipe did to-day your reeling Loan bewitch.) 
 
 LI. 
 
 " At length she ceased, and in a stroke o' the eye 
 Delved down within her spicy jail again, 
 
 And in her stead left curling bonnily 
 
 A smoke whose odour ravish'd nose and brain. 
 
 No more, my gracious Liege — what need have I 
 Longer to talk, where talking would be vain ? 
 
 Behold — what Mrs Puck commanded me — 
 
 Tis but a sorry thing — the pepper-box— d'ye see?" 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 223 
 
 III % 
 
 Thus speaking, from the pocket of his coat, 
 Wherein he had convey'd it to our town, 
 
 The goblin-haunted pepper-box he brought, 
 And, laughing, set it on the table down. 
 
 Great laughter crackled in the Monarch's throat, 
 As on the cloth he saw the thing y-thrown ; 
 
 And giggling guest 'gan fling his jeers and jokes 
 
 Upon the paltry frame of Rob's poor pepper-box. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 But soon was changed their blithe to fearful mood, 
 When straight afore each half- mistrusting eye, 
 
 The bawbling box of pepper, where it stood, 
 Began again to dance spontaneously, 
 
 And fidged and frisk'd, in strange inquietude, 
 Among the plates that thickly-ranged lie, 
 
 Directing to the table's middle part 
 
 Its motion by the side of broken pie and tart, 
 
224 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Yet to a greater pitch their wonder grew, 
 When, at the table's other end, they spy 
 
 Fair Maggie's mustard-pot commencing too 
 To gambol and to fidge in sympathy ; 
 
 (The self-same pot whence burst to Maggie's view 
 Of late Tom Puck, with brightly-breeched thigh ;) 
 
 As would a hen leap on a fire-hot griddle, 
 
 So leap'd the mustard-pot toward the table's middle. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Short while they flirted, pepper-box and pot, 
 Most laughable, yet fearful to be view'd, 
 
 Till, meeting on the table's midmost spot, 
 Stock-still th' ignoble bouncing vessels stood, 
 
 And from their little cells, where lay the hot 
 Ground pepper, and the biting mustard good, 
 
 Were in a moment seen at once to break 
 
 Two parallel white shafts of silvery spouting reek. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 225 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Ascending curl'd, not long, each separate fume, 
 Up-throwing to the roof its preciousness, 
 
 When, with a fire-flash that emblazed the room, 
 Burst from the hollow mustard-pot's recess 
 
 Good Tommy Puck, the fay of roseate bloom, 
 Clad in his customed gaudery of dress ; 
 
 And, with a second gleam of flashy light, 
 
 Sprung from the spicy box good Madam Puck to sight. 
 
 LVII. 
 With faces to each other tura'd they rise, 
 
 Scarce sunder'd by a finger's length of space, 
 And in an instant, as they recognise, 
 
 With glimpse of quick eye, each the other's face, 
 They fall, as if o'ercome with sweet surprise, 
 
 On one another's necks in close embrace, 
 Like friends that, having long lived far apart, 
 Meet and relieve in tears the joy-o'erburden'd heart. 
 
 U2 
 
226 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LVIIL 
 
 Astonishment his whitely ensign shows 
 On each spectator's visage at the sight ; 
 
 Courtier and King, that sat to table close, 
 
 Push'd quickly back their chairs, confounded quite ; 
 
 The ladies hid their faces in their clothes, 
 Or underneath the table slunk for fright ; 
 
 Save Mag and Rob, who laugh'd to see once more 
 
 The tricksy kindly ouphes that hail'd them heretofore. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Awhile the pair of pigmies on the spot 
 Lock'd their fantastic persons jole to jole, 
 
 And, as two doves of plumy varnish'd throat 
 Sit billing in their dovecot's nested hole, 
 
 Their liquid wee lips twitter'd kisses hot, 
 In fond commutuality of soul : 
 
 It was a treat to see how sweetheart-like 
 
 Their fiery fairy mouths the dear collision strike. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 227 
 
 LX. 
 
 At length, as rapture's first excess was past, 
 They disentangle their endeared embrace, 
 
 And toward the King and guests that sat aghast 
 Turn'd round each minim prettiness of face. 
 
 Dame Puck to Mag and those beside her placed 
 Let fall a curtsy with a courtly grace ; 
 
 Tom, fronting James, took hat from off his brow, 
 
 And curved his goblin back into a goodly bow. 
 
 LXI. 
 A glance upon the company he shot, 
 
 And smiled on Mag that sat at head o' the board, 
 Then from his silly dulcet-piping throat 
 
 Sweet utterance of word-clad breath he pour'd. 
 " O Monarch, let amazement seize thee not ; 
 
 Be of good cheer, each dame and noble lord ; 
 Ungown your timid faces, all ye fair ; 
 Draw ye to table close, each gentleman, your chair. 
 
228 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXII. 
 " For do not think that in us twain you spy 
 
 Two spirits of the perter wicked sort, 
 That, buzzing on bad errand through the sky, 
 
 In pranks of molestation take their sport, 
 Confounding old wives' churns, and slipping sly 
 
 Their stools from underneath them to their hurt, 
 Or chucking young sweet maids below the chin, 
 That so they bite the tongue their tender mouths within. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 " Of kindlier hearts are Tommy and his spouse, 
 
 Aidant to some, benevolent to all ; 
 For oft we sweep the thrifty matron's house 
 
 With besom quaint, invisible, and small ; 
 Oft from her cheese and butter chase the mouse, 
 
 Preyless, into the cavern of his wall ; 
 And oft her churn-staff gripe, that in a twink 
 The waves of bubbling cream to buttery masses sink. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 229 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 a But chiefly of young lovers true and kind 
 The patrons and the guardians good are we, 
 
 Linking each mutual and harmonious mind 
 In silver cord of dear complacency : 
 
 But when the vows that should restrain and bind, 
 Broke to another's misery we see, 
 
 'Tis ours to take the injured lover's part, 
 
 And on the perjured head deal out th' avenging smart. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " Witness what vengeance hit Miss Susan Scott, 
 Whose back and visage, for her breach of troth, 
 
 Obtain'd a penal and opprobrious blot, 
 
 Swoll'n out to counterpoise each other's growth ; 
 
 And though, for our suggestion of that plot, 
 To punish her and her sour guardian both, 
 
 My wife and I have suffer'd hard and long, 
 
 Yet, by my Monarch's beard! 'twas right t' avenge the 
 
230 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " O we have suffer'd much ! — That wizard foul, 
 
 (Beshrew his meagre, vile, malicious ghost !) 
 No sooner 'scaped from CraiPs vile sewer-hole, 
 
 And took again the shape that he had lost, 
 Than, with his long-tail'd demons black as coal, 
 
 That whiz to serve him from hell's every coast, 
 Consulting in his study, soon he learn'd 
 Who prompted Charles to wreak the vengeance justly 
 earn'd. 
 
 LXVII. 
 ec Then churn'd the sorcerer's mouth the surly foam ; 
 
 He clench'd his fist, and swore by Beelzebub 
 He forthwith should o'er half the country roam, 
 
 Beating each thicket with his oaken club, 
 To find out dapper intermeddling Tom 
 
 In his inhabited and secret shrub, 
 And heel him forth reluctant to the day, 
 And for his pranks chastise upon his breech the fay. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 231 
 
 LXVIII. 
 " His hat be put on his craft-crammed head, 
 
 He griped his hugy gnarled staff in hand, 
 And down his study-stair, with sounding tread, 
 
 Came spitting smoke like newly-lighted brand : 
 Forth from the gate he in a hurry sped, 
 
 To beat the total bushes of the land, 
 Cursing at every step the harmless breed 
 Of elfs, that aid the wrong'd in grievous time of need. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 " Need it be told ? Alas ! too soon he found 
 The bush where with my dame I sleeping lay ; 
 
 Too soon his cudgel, thrashing round and round, 
 Grazed our slim bodies in its dangerous play ; " 
 
 And, had not Oberon saved us both from wound, 
 Our brains had fairly been dash'd out that day. 
 
 We woke — we shriek'd — his rugged hand he stretch'd, 
 
 And from our leafy bed us by the heels he fetch'd. 
 
232 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " His long-naiFd hairy fingers, grasping tight 
 Our waists, uprear'd us to his bearded chin, 
 
 And held us there in melancholy plight, 
 Wriggling our innocent frail members thin : 
 
 He spat upon our faces with despite, 
 Glooming his phiz into a joyful grin ; 
 
 Then, lowering down, he plunged us, ere we wot, 
 
 Each int' a separate pouch of his great clumsy coat. 
 
 LXXI. ' 
 
 " There lay we button'd in, and closely pent 
 
 In a dark dungeon of detested cloth, 
 As, tracing back his steps, he homeward went, 
 
 And to his chamber bore us dangling both. 
 He drew us forth, the wicked churl, intent 
 
 On base revenge, malevolent and wroth, 
 And with unseemly usage treated each, 
 And slapp'd with scurvy palm my little harmless breech, 
 
 5 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 233 
 
 LXXIL 
 
 " Then did he in his wickedness begin 
 
 To practise his detestable device : 
 He took a paltry pepper-box of tin, 
 
 And hoisting up my consort in a trice, 
 He push'd her weeping ladyship within, 
 
 Clean through the lid, amid the pungent spice : 
 (For fairy shapes can be contracted so 
 As through a needle's eye right easily to go.) 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " He push'd her, shrieking, down into the cell, 
 With cruel taunt and mocking devilish, 
 
 And mutter'd o'er her a confining spell 
 
 Of hell's abhorr'd and uncouth gibberish : — 
 
 ' Lie there, Dame Puck,' he cried, e and bed thee well 
 In the snug durance of thy penal dish ; 
 
 There be a tenant till the day shall come, 
 
 Ordain 'd t' enfranchise thee from thy ignoble tomb' 
 
 X 
 
234 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " A sorry mustard-pot then took the knight, 
 And, 'tween his fingers lifting me sublime, 
 
 He push'd and plunged me, yelling with affright, 
 Amid the mustard's yellow sloughy slime ; 
 
 And, e Lie thou there/ he cried, c thou meddling sprite. 
 And do the proper penance for thy crime ; 
 
 There be a tenant till the day shall come, 
 
 Ordain 9 d f enfranchise thee from thy ignoble tomb. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 " c Nor meet Tom Puck and Madam Puck agen, 
 
 Until the fairest maid of Scottish land 
 Shall to the supplest of all Scotland's men, 
 
 Charm 9 d by his jumping, give her bed and hand J 
 This said, he mumbled o'er me in my den 
 
 His damned spell too hard to understand, 
 Of virtue to impound and cage me there, 
 Even till the day foredoom'd to let me loose to air. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 235 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " And further, he, to sunder us the more, 
 
 And interpose large space between us twain, 
 To Melrose Abbey journeying, with him bore 
 The spicy jail, where lay my spouse in pain, 
 And gave it to the monks, skill'd deep in lore, 
 , That in their charge it might for years remain, 
 To grace the abbey-table, and supply 
 Their kail on feasting-days with pepper hot and dry. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 " And there, methinks, for ages it has been, 
 Till, as rolFd onward Time's fulfilling round, 
 
 By the wise care of our fair fairy-queen, 
 
 To Rob the Ranter's house the way it found, 
 
 Where, from her box upstarting to his eyne, 
 
 (The spell that moment lost its power t' impound,) 
 
 My wife bade Scotland's supplest man prepare, 
 
 All for her weal and his, to jump at Anster Fair. 
 
236 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 " For me— when first that stern felonious knight 
 Had dungeon'd me in penal pot so fast, 
 
 My jail he did commit that very night 
 To Pittenweem's fat monks, of belly vast, 
 
 That from its small profundity they might 
 Supply with mustard every rich repast, 
 
 And in the abbey-pantry guard the cell, 
 
 Where I, alas ! was doom'd for many an age to dwell. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 " And there I dwelt in dolesome house of clay, 
 Far sunder'd from my wife in sad divorce, 
 
 Till onward drew the freedom-giving day, 
 Fix'd and appointed in time's fatal course, 
 
 When Oberon, the silver-sceptred fay, 
 
 That rules his phantom-tribes with gentle force., 
 
 My mustard-pot by secret means convey'd 
 
 To Maggie's house — the house of Scotland's fairest 
 maid. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 237 
 
 € 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 <( Here, as one night upon her supper-board, 
 
 Imbogg'd amid my biting mire I lay, 
 My King a moment broke the spell abhorr'd 
 
 That kept me pent and pester'd night and day. 
 I rose, I loosed my tongue to mortal word, 
 
 Commanding her to publish, sans delay, 
 The merry games effectual to decide 
 What supplest-sinew'd Scot should gain her for his bride. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 t€ Abroad the games were blown o'er Scottish ground, 
 And hurried thousands in to Anster Fair : 
 
 The work is done — the supplest man is found, 
 He sits the bridegroom and the landlord there ; 
 
 The fairest maid of all the realm around 
 Sits yonder, star-like shining on her chair ; 
 
 The happiest couple they of all beside : 
 
 God bless you richly both, fair bridegroom and fair bride ! 
 
 X2 
 
238 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 " Nor think, my wedded dears, that you alone 
 
 By Anster's gamesome Fair are render'd blest : 
 We too, that have so long with mutual moan 
 
 In torment and divorcement lived distrest, 
 Meet now again (great thanks to Oberon !) 
 
 Re-wedded, re-possessing, re-possess'd, 
 A pair of happy fays conjoin'd for ever, 
 Whom henceforth wizard's hate shall have no might to 
 sever. 
 
 LXXXIIT. 
 " And now, my Lord, O King ! we must away 
 
 To taste the sweets of new-found liberty, 
 To ride astraddle on the lunar ray, 
 
 In airy gallop to the top of sky, 
 And lave our limber limbs, and plash and play 
 
 Amid the milk that dims the galaxy. 
 Farewell ! May joys be rain'd on each of you ! 
 Adieu, thou bridegroom sweet! Thou bonny bride, 
 adieu!" 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 239 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 This having said, he on his shiny hair 
 
 Did gracefully his silver hat replace, 
 And seizing by the hand his lady fair, 
 
 Awhile look'd smerking, winking, in her face ; 
 Then, swift as spark from fire or beam from star, 
 
 That unsubstantial, slim, frail, fairy-brace, 
 From table heaving off their phantasms small, 
 Sheer through the window flew of Maggie's dining-hall. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Sheer through the window fleetly flew the twain, 
 Mocking the eye that tried to follow them ; 
 
 Yet, strange to add ! nor wood nor glassy pane 
 Was injured of the fay-pierced window- frame. 
 
 Amazement ran in every beating vein 
 
 Of bride, and groom, and king, and lord, and dame, 
 
 As they beheld the coupled goblins fly 
 
 Through window-shut and glass abroad into the sky. 
 
240 ANSTER FAIR. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Recover'd quickly of their short surprise,, 
 
 They drew to table nearer each his chair : 
 " A bumper fill," the sportive Monarch cries, 
 
 " To Tom and Lady Pack, the elfin pair !" 
 Landlord and guest his brimming glass supplies 
 
 From bottle with the dainty vine-blood rare ; 
 Clean to the dregs their glasses drink they all, 
 As " Tom and Mrs Puck" sound echoing through the 
 hall. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 Thus they the social happy minutes spend 
 
 In wine, and chat, and harmless revelry, 
 Till slow began the round moon to descend 
 
 Down the starr'd ladder of the western sky, 
 And sleep, that toil-worn man's frail frame must mend, 
 
 His spunge's balsam wrung on human eye : 
 From table, then, withdrew to sleeping-room 
 Courtier, and king, and dame, and bride, and glad 
 bridegroom. 
 
 END OF ANSTER FAIR. 
 
HARIM; 
 
 A PASTORAL. 
 
HARIM 
 
 A PASTORAL, 
 
 Time, Morning — Scene, The Holy Land, 
 
 X air oped on Dothan's verdant lawn 
 The eyelids of the golden dawn ; 
 The parted clouds, that, white and rare, 
 Had grown upon the nightly air, 
 Now smitten, where on high they rest, 
 By the red arrows of the east, 
 
244 harim; 
 
 Melt in a dewy silent shower, 
 Precious to tree, and bush, and flower. 
 Each stately tree that heav'nward heaves 
 His green magnificence of leaves, 
 Each lowly bush that waves in air 
 Her verdure of entangled hair, 
 Each flower whose sweets impregn the gale, 
 Each pile of grass that greens the dale, 
 Now, gemm'd with dewy jewels gay, 
 Their glancing glories round display. 
 'Twas as if Morning, ere her first 
 Red lustre from the ocean burst, 
 Had gather'd all the gems that pave 
 The precious bed of Ophir's wave, 
 And flung them from her lap around 
 On Dothan's brightly-pearl'd ground. 
 
 Such was th* inviting matin hour 
 When Harim left his shepherd bower, — 
 1 
 
A PASTORAL. 245 
 
 Harim, the fairest shepherd-swain 
 That ever piped on Dothan's plain : 
 His bower he left, and sought the spot 
 Where stood his Sherah's shaded cot, — 
 Sherah, the fairest shepherd-maid 
 Of all that danced in Dothan's shade. 
 
 As through her window, where entwine 
 The vine-branch and the jessamine, 
 The rising sun into her cot 
 His rays of yellow lustre shot, 
 Close by her wall, where palm-tree high 
 Curves his green roof of leaves in sky, 
 Unseen, young Harim took his stand, 
 His silver-stringed harp in hand, 
 And thus his matin descant sung, 
 With wedded skill of hand and tongue : — 
 
 ec Awake, my fair ! My love, arise ! 
 Lo ! the day breaks, the shadow flies ; 
 Y 
 
246 HARIM ; 
 
 The gaudy morn, robed round with beams, 
 Hath left the wave of orient streams, 
 And in her sun-bright sandals proud, 
 Walks on yon rosy eastern cloud : 
 O'er the green breast of every lawn 
 Long level lines of light are drawn, 
 And on each hill's white summit play 
 The rivers of refulgent day. 
 Again the flowers on earth appear, 
 Again our God revives the year ; 
 The vine anew expands her bloom, 
 The tender grapes yield sweet perfume ; 
 Blooms the broad world, and joy walks forth 
 On the great circle of the earth. 
 Methinks each mountain lifts his voice, 
 Each valley bids our hearts rejoice ; 
 Hills, valleys, fields, proclaim that God 
 Is in his grandeur gone abroad ; 
 Exulting nature chides our stay : 
 Arise, my fair one ! come away ! 
 
A PASTORAL. 247 
 
 " High on his cloud of saffron hue, 
 That richly laps him round from view, 
 Hark, how the skylark from his throat 
 Sends far his world-awak'ning note, 
 Proclaiming the sweet hour of prime 
 From his aerial tower sublime. 
 The children of the sky awake, 
 And from green tree, and bush, and brake, 
 Sing forth their little souls, and raise 
 The loud united hymn of praise. 
 For past is now the day of rain, 
 And Spring, from Sheba's land, again 
 Hath sent into our native grove 
 Her sweets-moaning turtle-dove. 
 Methinks each bird that greets the day 
 Seems to rebuke our slow delay : 
 Arise, my fair one ! come away ! 
 
 " 'Tis sweet, from slope of hill, to eye 
 The day-spring kindling in the sky, 
 
248 harim ; 
 
 When Beauty, dancing hand in hand 
 With Morn, flings rose on every land, 
 And o'er the mountains' haughty heads 
 Her wrapping golden mantle spreads : 
 But dearer, Sherah, 'tis to me 
 The day-spring of thine eye to see, 
 And Beauty's every charm and grace 
 Summ'd up and shining in thy face. 
 'Tis sweet to hear the lark on wing 
 His world-awak'ning anthem sing, 
 And all the winged sons of sky 
 Hymn to the Lord their harmony : 
 More dear, my love, it is to me, 
 Reclined beneath our citron-tree, 
 To hear thy wedded voice and lute 
 With joyous song the mom salute, 
 Praising the God that paints the day 
 With golden colours rich and gay. 
 Arise, my fair one ! come away ! 
 1 
 
A PASTORAL. 24.9 
 
 <c In vain for me the turtle-dove 
 Proclaims the spring in Dothan's grove ; 
 In vain for me the dew-nursed mead 
 With crocus and with rose is spread; 
 In vain for me, on mountain's side, 
 The vine puts forth her budding pride : 
 No bloom, no joy for me is there, 
 If sunder'd far from thee, my fair ! 
 Thy presence to my heart is dew ; 
 Thy presence gives the rose its hue ; 
 Thy presence bloom and beauty flings 
 On all the glittering face of things. 
 Then come, my love, and let us go 
 To the fresh lawn where vi'lets blow, 
 Or to yon sunward grassy steep, 
 Where, at the dawn of morn, our sheep 
 Rejoice amid the dews to play. 
 Arise, my fair one ! come away !" 
 Y2 
 
250 HARIM. 
 
 So sung the Hebrew shepherd-swain 
 His harp-assisted tender strain, 
 While at her lattice, flower-inwove, 
 Listened the damsel of his love. 
 Nor in her cottage tarried long 
 The maiden, backward to the song : 
 She came, and with her shepherd-boy 
 Is gone to taste the morning's joy, 
 On yon green. steep, where lambkins play 
 Amid the dews at dawn of day. 
 
ODE TO PEACE, 
 
ODE TO PEACE 
 
 Daughter of God ! that sitt'st on high 
 Amid the dances of the sky^ 
 And guidest with thy gentle sway 
 The planets on their tuneful way ; 
 
 Sweet Peace ! shall ne'er again 
 The smile of thy most holy face,, 
 From thine ethereal dwelling-place^ 
 Rejoice the wretched weary race 
 
 Of discord-breathing men ? 
 
254f ODE TO PEACE. 
 
 Too long, O gladness-giving Queen ! 
 Thy tarrying in heaven has been ; 
 Too long o'er this fair blooming world 
 The flag of blood has been unfurl'd, 
 
 Polluting God's pure day ; 
 Whilst, as each maddening people reels, 
 War onward drives his scythed wheels, 
 And at his horse's bloody heels 
 
 Shriek Murder and Dismay. 
 
 Oft have I wept to hear the cry 
 Of widow wailing bitterly ; 
 To see the parent's silent tear 
 For children fall'n beneath the spear ; 
 
 And I have felt so sore 
 The sense of human guilt and wo, 
 That I, in Virtue's passion'd glow, 
 Have cursed (my soul was wounded so) 
 
 The shape of Man I bore. 
 
ODE TO PEACE. 255 
 
 Then come from thy serene abode, 
 Thou gladness-giving Child of God, 
 And cease the world's ensanguined strife, 
 And reconcile my soul to life ; 
 
 For much I long to see, 
 Ere to the grave I down descend, 
 Thy hand her blessed branch extend, 
 And to the world's remotest end 
 Wave Love and Harmony. 
 
 THE END, 
 
 Oliver & Boyd> Printers, Edinburgh. 
 

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