J 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES' 
 
 v. 
 
 ~~r 
 
 J 
 
 m Q R IT I T U D I IN 
 
 '■■■■ 
 
 :■■
 
 /
 
 DUNBAR 
 
 BEING A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF 
 
 AN OLD MAKAR, 
 
 ADAPTED FOR MODERN READERS. 
 
 BY 
 
 HUGH HALIBURTON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 'HORACE IN HOMESPUN," " OCHIL IDYLLS," ETC. 
 
 LONDON: WALTER SCOTT, LTD., 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 
 1895-
 
 
 INSCRIBED TO 
 
 CHARLES ALFRED COOPER, Esq., 
 
 WITH 
 
 EVERY SENTIMENT OF RESPECT 
 
 AND ESTEEM. 
 
 9/ 7<?#4
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 TO WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 From Scotland's later glory, Bums, 
 
 The flower of Nature, fully blown, 
 My reverence instinctive turns 
 
 To kneel at thy neglected throne, 
 Thou finer spirit, backward driven, 
 
 Confined in priestly garments here, 
 Who foimd in Art a nearer heaven 
 
 Wherein was neither sin nor fear. 
 
 With thee I tread the city ways, 
 
 To wait at Royal James's court, 
 And watch with thine observant gaze 
 
 Its pains, its follies, and its sport. 
 They welcome thee in bower and hall, 
 
 The sprightly wits those chambers hold, 
 Thoic alchemist, that turnest all 
 
 In humour's crucible to gold.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 Nor fails in thee the kindly heart 
 
 That would thy brethren all embrace. 
 Beneath the friar's hood of Art 
 
 Appears the thoughtful human face. 
 The mysteries of life and death 
 
 Opprest thee, as they press us now j 
 Therefore is thine yet living breath — 
 
 Our secret cares still speakest thou. 
 
 Thy fame, that waits in lingering bud, 
 
 Had blossonid loiig before our day, 
 But Flodden's red and raging flood 
 
 Swept valour and thy voice away. 
 Alas, alas for Flodden yet, 
 
 Heroic Scotland's early grave! 
 Can any after-growth forget 
 
 The harvest sunk in Floddeiis wave ? 
 
 — Ochil Idylls and Other Poems.
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE, 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 1460. Probable date of his birth. 
 
 1475. Matriculation at St. Andrews University. 
 
 1477. Bachelor's degree. 
 
 1479. M.A. degree. 
 
 1480. About this time a novitiate (probably) in the Grey- 
 
 friars' Convent, Edinburgh. 
 
 1491. A member of the Royal Commission in France. 
 
 1500. Pensioned, and in attendance at Holyrood. 
 
 1 501-2. On an embassy to London. Poet Laureate. 
 
 1503. Writes " The Thrissil and the Rose." 
 
 1508. Eight of his poems printed in Edinburgh by 
 Chapman and Myllar. 
 
 1 5 10. His pension raised to £80.
 
 Vlll CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. 
 
 1 513. In May, last notice of his pension. Battle of 
 Flodden. Dunbar disappears from history. 
 
 1568. George Bannatyne collects fifty-one of Dunbar's 
 poems. Sir Richard Maitland, about same 
 time, collects twenty-seven. 
 
 1724. Allan Ramsay publishes in "The Evergreen" a 
 large proportion of Dunbar's poems, copied from 
 Bannatyne's MS., then in the possession of Sir 
 James Foulis of Colinton House, Edinburgh. 
 
 1788. Discovery in Ayrshire of a unique copy of Chap- 
 man and Myllar's book of 1508. This was the 
 first book that ever came from the Scottish 
 Press. It is preserved (in its mutilated con- 
 dition) in the Advocates' Library. 
 
 1834. First collected edition of Dunbar's Poems, by Dr. 
 David Laing. 
 
 1883-93. Elaborate Edition, in Five Parts, by the 
 Scottish Text Society ; prepared by the late Dr. 
 John Small, Professor ^Eneas Mackay, Rev. 
 Dr. W. Gregor, and Mr. George P. M'Neill, 
 LL.B.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ••» 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SORROW ON HIMSEL' II 
 
 THE USE OF RICHES 13 
 
 CONTENTMENT 1 6 
 
 THE TRUE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE . . -19 
 
 HY-JINKS AT HOLYROOD .... 22 
 
 TO THE P.D. DEMANDING COPY . . .26 
 
 THE PRIEST 28 
 
 GNOMIC VERSES 30 
 
 THIS WARLD'S VANITEE 34 
 
 NOTHING SURE $7 
 
 PRAYER BEFORE THE SACRAMENT . . 40 
 
 A MEDITATION IN WINTER . . . .42
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE VANITY O'T 45 
 
 EASTER HYMN 48 
 
 THE MAKAR'S COMPLAINT . . . .51 
 
 A SONG OF RUE 54 
 
 THE GREATEST GAIN 56 
 
 TO MY LORDS OF 'CHACKER . . . .58 
 
 ON CHANGE 60 
 
 JOHN TAMSON'S MAN 62 
 
 DISCRETION IN ASKING 64 
 
 CHANGE OF PARTY 67 
 
 REIGN OF COVETICE 69 
 
 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE . . .72 
 
 DUNBAR'S DREAM 83 
 
 THE TWA CUMMERS 87 
 
 THE FRIARS OF BERWICK . . . .89 
 
 DUNBAR FLYTING I03 
 
 A WELCOME TO THE LORD TREASURER . I05 
 TO AN EDITOR I08 
 
 Glossary m
 
 DUNBAR TO-DAY. 
 
 -***- 
 
 SORROW ON HIMSEL'. 
 
 He that hes Gold and grit Riches s. 
 
 ""THE man that siller has to spare, 
 
 An' micht be happy late and ear', 
 An' shivers in a hermit's cell, 
 Wi' hear'stane cauld an' basket bare — 
 
 He brings his sorrow on himsel'. 
 
 The man that's free from care an' strife, 
 An' leads the single blessed life, 
 
 An' wi' the married state wad mell, 
 An' tak's in tow a thrawart wife — 
 
 He brings his sorrow on himsel'.
 
 12 SORROW ON HIMSEL'. 
 
 He that wi' service fair an' true, 
 Wi' swink o' brain or sweat o' brow, 
 
 Will in a house o' bondage dwell 
 Where merit never gat its due — 
 
 He brings his sorrow on himsel'. 
 
 He that has treasure o' his ain, 
 A fair share o' this warld's gain, 
 
 An' maun wi' foreign markets mell, 
 An' gets weel bitten for his pain — 
 
 He brings his sorrow on himsel'. 
 
 He that may sit to cakes an' beer, 
 An' warm his virtue wi' gude cheer, 
 
 An' ca's for water from the well, 
 An' suffers colic half the year — 
 
 He brings his sorrow on himsel'. 
 
 Then, while we may, let us be merry, 
 An' care for no man's cant a cherry ; 
 
 But, while there is gude wine to sell, 
 Let him that on dry bread will worry 
 
 Enjoy the drouth he gies himsel'.
 
 13 
 
 THE USE OF RICHES. 
 
 Man, sen thy Lyfe is ay in Weir. 
 
 ""THERE are wha in this warld's strife 
 
 O'erlook the terminus o' life 
 In trust o' what they ne'er attain, 
 Dissatisfied with every gain. 
 
 With toiling tired to bed they creep, 
 To toil they wauk again from sleep ; 
 What profit hae they in their gain ? 
 How can they ea' their gear their ain ? 
 
 It's only theirs to haud thegither ; 
 They only herd it for anither ; 
 Death brings their tack o't to amane, 
 It's tint — and never was their ain.
 
 14 THE USE OF RICHES. 
 
 In comes the heir, a graceless chiel, 
 A waif that never wuss'd them weel ; 
 He loups wi' glee, an' lauchs again — 
 I'se warrand that he male's 't his ain ! 
 
 Ithers there are like barren fools 
 Wha clock fu' cauld on cheeny bools, 
 An' streetch their wings, an' strive in vain 
 For chickens from a chucky-stane. 
 
 Wud to be rich, they want the pow'r ; 
 Their life is ae lang envious glow'r ; 
 Wi' glow'rin' at their neibour's gain, 
 They've tint conceit o' what's their ain. 
 
 Now ye that have achiev'd your share, 
 Wha hae to spend, an' think to spare, 
 I rede ye, owre an' owre again, 
 To tak' the use o' what's your ain.
 
 THE USE OF RICHES. 1 5 
 
 It's no' just siller that mak's wealth : 
 There's love an' youth, an' hope an' health ; 
 I rede ye therefore ance again 
 To talc' the use o' what's your ain.
 
 i6 
 
 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Be mirry, man ! and taK nocht far in mynd. 
 
 TD E merry, friend ! nor let it fret thy mind 
 
 The wavering of this wretched warld of 
 sorrow ; 
 To Heaven be humble, to thy crony kind, 
 And with thy neibours gladly lend and 
 
 borrow : 
 His chance to-night, it may be thine to- 
 morrow ; 
 Be blythe of heart whatever may befa', 
 
 For, as wise men have said, an' proved afor- 
 row, 
 Without content treasure is nocht ava.
 
 CONTENTMENT. 1 7 
 
 Aye mak'the maist o'that which Fortune sends, — 
 
 Then in adversity there's less annoy; 
 Nae gear is thine save only what thou spends, — 
 
 The o'ercome's aften but a fashious joy. 
 
 Let nae calamity thy strength destroy, — 
 For loss of heart is loss of life and a' ; 
 
 But in fresh fields at once thy wits employ, 
 And find a shelter from the storms that blaw. 
 
 Live peaceably; flee quarrelling an' debate; 
 
 Keep company with folks of honest fame ; 
 Be frank and humble in a high estate, 
 
 For Fortune's cheer is seldom lang the same. 
 
 Spend not thy poverty in casting blame ; 
 Be rich in patience, tho' thy gold's awa', — 
 
 There's riches in a reputable name, 
 And, wanting that, treasure is nocht ava. 
 
 He's a puir scart wha sets himsel' wi' care 
 To gather gear his sordid lifetime thro'; 
 
 Wha, when his bags are fu', himself is bare, 
 And of his riches but enjoys the view:
 
 1 8 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 In comes anither, when the date is due, 
 A revelling youth that skails an' scatters a' : 
 
 Tak' thou the warning — or refuse an' rue 
 When owre thy een life's gloaming shadows fa'. 
 
 Tho' a' the wealth that ever was to wicht 
 
 Fell in thy lap, not more thy share can be 
 Than meat, drink, claes, and o' the lave a sicht ; 
 
 An' yet keep mind thou maun a reckoning 
 gie: 
 
 It's easy richted when the reckoning's wee ; 
 Be just an' joyous whether great or sma'; 
 
 An' keep this text before thine open ee — 
 Without content treasure is nocht ava.
 
 19 
 
 THE TRUE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 
 
 Full oft I muse and lies in thocht. 
 
 ""THE passage of the speeding year, 
 
 And Fortune with her changing cheer, 
 
 Are ills on ilka hand confest ; 
 We will not mourn for that, my dear, 
 
 But to be blythe we'll count it best. 
 
 Fast as this warld fleets awa', 
 
 As fast her wheel does Fortune ca', 
 
 At no time tired or takin' rest : 
 What then ? the limmer's owre us a', 
 
 And to be blythe I think it best.
 
 20 THE TRUE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 
 
 Would pamper'd man consider weel, 
 Ere Fortune on him turn her wheel, 
 
 That earthly honour canna lest, 
 His fa' less painfu' he would feel : 
 
 But to be blythe I think it best. 
 
 Wha would wi' this dour warld strive 
 Will a' his days in dolour drive, 
 
 An', tho' he stood o' lands possest, 
 He couldna weel be said to live, 
 
 He's only tJwlirt at the best. 
 
 Wi' a' the treasure i' the earth 
 What profit is there, wantin' mirth ? 
 
 Wi' a' the craps o' east an' west, 
 Without contentment there is dearth : 
 
 So to be blythe is surely best. 
 
 Let nane for tinsel droop an' dee, 
 The thing is but a vanitee ; 
 
 And to the life that aye shall lest 
 Here's out the twinkling of an ee : 
 
 So to be blythe I think it best.
 
 THE TRUE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 2 1 
 
 Had I, because my lot is puir, 
 
 Tint heart an' hope, an' harbour'd fear, 
 
 An' been wi' carried cares opprest, 
 I had been dead langsyne I'm sure ; 
 
 But to be blythe I think it best. 
 
 However Fortune change an' veer, 
 Let's blythely live as lang's we're here ; 
 
 An' yet be ready and addrest 
 To pass content, without a tear, 
 
 Believin' a' thing for the best.
 
 22 
 
 HY-JINKS AT HOLYROOD. 
 
 Schir Jhon Sinclair begowthe to dance. 
 
 A PLEASANT nicht befel yestreen 
 
 In Holyrood the palace ; 
 A' kinds o' dancin' there was seen — 
 
 Except upon a gallace ! 
 King Jamie crost his hunting legs, 
 
 An' sat into the lum, 
 An' drank a rouse to single jigs, 
 An' welcome a' that come 
 
 To loup that nicht. 
 
 And first Sir Andro, he maun prance, 
 An' he maun show his paces, 
 
 For he was new come oot o' France 
 Wi' a' the latest graces.
 
 HY-JINKS AT HOLYROOD. 23 
 
 But as he caper'd fifty ways, 
 
 An' bent his hochs, an' flang, 
 He burst the boddom o' his claes, 
 
 An' darted thro' the thrang, 
 
 An' hame that nicht ! 
 
 Then stechy Tam, a forward fule, 
 
 Wha never needit pressin', 
 Swore he would dance a pas de seul 
 
 An' learn them a' a lesson. 
 But wae's me for the cratur's boast ! 
 
 For, wi' a kind o' stammer, 
 He loot an unexpected hoast 
 
 That startled a' the chaumer, 
 
 An' him that nicht ! 
 
 Now wha cam next but Will Dunbar ? 
 
 And nane cam' forrat franker, 
 For few within the land there war 
 
 Sae souple-knee'd, or swanker.
 
 24 HY-JINKS AT HOLYROOD. 
 
 He bobbit east, he bobbit wast, 
 He turned upon a tae, 
 
 He trippit it fore-nenst his lass 
 Until he cuist a shae 
 
 Clean aff that nicht. 
 
 Then cam' the lass, a stately quean, 
 
 Her very gang was gracefu' ; 
 Fra heels to head, and a' between, 
 
 Her dancing charm 'd the placefu'. 
 O when I saw her in the dance, 
 
 Like Hebe loupin' fine, 
 I wuss'd I was the King o' France 
 
 For her sake, and for mine, 
 
 Loud out that nicht ! 
 
 Neist cam' a carline up the flure 
 That micht hae been a granny ; 
 
 And nane was mair surpris'd, I'm sure, 
 Than was her auld gudemanny.
 
 HY-JINKS AT HOLYROOD. 25 
 
 Wi' gudewill to the wark she gade, 
 
 But sune was sair forfoughen ; 
 An' wi' the awfu' mouths she made 
 
 She set the king a-lauchin' 
 
 A' owre that nicht ! 
 
 Last in cam' Pate the porter tyke, 
 
 Wi' ribbons at his knees ; 
 His feet were like a fa'in' dyke, 
 
 His arms like flingin'-trees. 
 He stoiter'd like a hobbled mull 
 
 The simmer clegs are gawin', 
 Till owre he whumml'd, length in full, 
 
 An' fell'd Dunbar i' fa'in', 
 
 An' a' the can'les !
 
 26 
 
 TO THE P.D. DEMANDING COPY. 
 
 My He id did yak sa yesiernicht. 
 
 r\ MERCILESS are printers' bow'ls 
 ^~^ To ane that in their service towls ! 
 
 Their drudge he is baith nicht an' day- 
 Rewairdit when he looks for pay 
 Wi' twa-three groats an' twenty growls. 
 
 Wee deevil ! tell the maister-fien' 
 
 I had a toothache a' yestreen ; 
 
 And still sae sair in ilka jowl 
 
 The vermin stangs that, on my sowl, 
 
 I halflins wuss I hadna been !
 
 TO THE P.D. DEMANDING COPY. 27 
 
 I've fastit ; an' I tried to pray ; 
 
 I graned a' nicht — I girn the day : 
 
 My wits I've sae completely tint — 
 They're lyin' in my head ahint, 
 
 But whereawa' it's hard to say. 
 
 O wha can ply the rhymin' trade 
 Wi' a het toothache in his head ? 
 
 Or where's the fun that ithers see ? 
 
 Or what ambition can there be 
 To ane that's wussin' he was dead ?
 
 28 
 
 THE PRIEST. 
 
 Off Benefice, Schir, at everie Feist. 
 
 r T*0 pick an' wale was for the priest ; 
 He aye was foremost at the feast, 
 
 And to forbid him was to wrang him ; 
 His crap was as the crap o' beast, 
 
 And lay-folk only lived to pang him. 
 
 He flew at pheasant, flesh, an' fluke ; 
 He made collusion wi' the cook 
 
 For a' the choicest bits inside him ; 
 But, lord ! how piteous a' did look 
 
 When to the haggis he applied him.
 
 THE PRIEST. 29 
 
 So wags this blind auld warld yet, 
 That to the greedy grants as debt 
 
 What never did by richt belang them ; 
 While he that naething talc's can get 
 
 Only a waiter's place amang them.
 
 3° 
 
 GNOMIC VERSES. 
 
 To Dwell in Court, my Friend, gife that thou 
 
 list. 
 
 1WTAXIMS of wisdom for ingenuous youth. 
 First, envy nane ; content's the golden 
 fee. 
 Listen an' look an' keep a steekit mouth ; 
 The tongue that wags is no' the tongue that's 
 
 free. 
 Never retort on malice with a lee. 
 Forbear though friendship prompt, but most 
 when pride, 
 To counsel them that will not counsell'd be : 
 Ye do gey weel if weel yourseP ye guide.
 
 GNOMIC VERSES. 31 
 
 Wale weel your crony like a man o' sense ; 
 
 He's no' aye leal that male's a loyal show. 
 Risk not your fame in reckless confidence ; 
 
 The flattering friend may prove the future 
 foe. 
 
 In companies where thou art free to go 
 Be seen with men of mense, but turn aside 
 
 From swicks and sweeps, the silly and the 
 low : 
 The man does weel that sae himseP can guide. 
 
 Have courage though nae lands can ca' ye 
 laird ; 
 Haud up your head — true manhood kens 
 nae fear. 
 Ye have eneuch ? the rest may weel be spared ; 
 Without content a millionaire is puir ; 
 What pleasure has a miser wi' his gear ? 
 What profit he that awns a warld wide 
 
 Wi' death forenent him, drawin' near an' 
 sure? 
 Ye do gey weel if weel yourseP ye guide.
 
 32 GNOMIC VERSES. 
 
 Avoid the fellowship of men defamed. 
 
 Turn from the hollow tongue of flatterie. 
 Steer clear of slanderers ; thou wilt be 
 blamed 
 
 For all the scandal of thy companie. 
 
 And stop the lug when envy tells the lee. 
 Leave wilful men with wilful men to chide ; 
 
 What profit can it bring to them or thee ? 
 Ye do richt weel if weel yourseP ye guide. 
 
 And be not thou a whisperer in the nook ; 
 
 Thae corner confidences folk suspec'. 
 Show scorn to nane, neither by lauch nor 
 look; 
 Into a noose the scorner rins his neck. 
 Be carefu' how ye counsel or correc' 
 Him that in counselling others tak's a 
 pride ; 
 And first forecast the probable effec' : 
 The man does weel wha weel himsel' can 
 guide.
 
 GNOMIC VERSES. 33 
 
 And, since this life is full of ups an' downs, 
 Stick to the ae thing certain — Do what's 
 due. 
 The ne'er a thocht has Heaven o' coats an' 
 gowns, 
 Their fashion or their fabric, age or hue, 
 But of the folk that fill them, me and you ; 
 The warld's a stage, and this will a' decide 
 When the play's owre — not what we 
 play'd, but hoo : 
 And he plays best wha best himseP can guide.
 
 34 
 
 THIS WARLD'S VANITEE. 
 
 / that in heill wes and glaidnes. 
 
 I_I E stood on sic a stately shank 
 
 His health and happiness we drank, 
 And thocht for mony a year to see : 
 We little kenn'd this was to be. 
 
 The tass o' pleasure at his lip, 
 The strength o' manheid in his grip, 
 Ev'n as we gaz'd his vigour fail'd, 
 We scarce had time to say he ail'd. 
 
 Alas ! the line of human bliss, 
 How brittle and how brief it is ! 
 How fast the silent Fury spins ! 
 How swiftly to the reel it rins !
 
 THIS WARLD'S VANITEE. 35 
 
 As willows in the wind that wave, 
 As grasses trembling on a grave, 
 So fluctuates in th' unequal strife 
 The passive chance of human life. 
 
 What stay endures ? What state stands 
 
 fast? 
 What shelter can secure at last? 
 What charm avert, what skill withstand 
 That fateful, strong, forth-reaching hand ? 
 
 It parts the monarch and his pride ; 
 It tak's her bridegroom from the bride ; 
 The infant sleeping on her sleeve 
 It lifts without the mither's leave. 
 
 The warrior from the battle's din ; 
 The traveller tarrying at the inn ; 
 The bairnie playing wi' his ba'; — 
 It tak's them ane, it tak's them a'.
 
 36 THIS WARLD'S VANITEE. 
 
 Even the doctor, fat wi' fees, 
 An' letter'd thick wi' learn'd degrees, 
 It tak's him from his patient's bed, 
 It tak's him in the patient's stead. 
 
 Lawyers ana, a jinkin' band, 
 Maun tak' their summons from that hand ; 
 An' makars too, wi' catchin' breath, 
 Maun stap aside to speak wi' Death ! 
 
 Since a' that ever lived are gane, 
 Since we but tarry till we're ta'en, 
 Best is that we for Death prepare 
 By taking in this warld wir share.
 
 NOTHING SURE. 
 
 Quhome to sail I complene ?ny tvo. 
 
 TO whom shall I complain my wo ? 
 
 To whom shall I for counsel go ? 
 I know not, amang rich or poor, 
 Who is my friend, who is my foe ; 
 
 For in this warld there's naething sure. 
 
 To whom shall I go make my moan ? 
 For service lang, rewaird is none ; 
 
 And short my life may now endure ; 
 And lost is a' the time by-gone ; 
 
 And in this warld there's naething sure.
 
 38 NOTHING SURE. 
 
 Here mockery rides with hand on rein ; 
 While merit pads it on the plain, 
 
 Sweats in the sun, an' bides the stour ; 
 I've seen it owre an' owre again — 
 
 Within this warld there's naething sure. 
 
 Here Flattery wears a purfled goun, 
 And Falsehood with a lord sits doun, 
 
 While Truth is hounded from the door, 
 And Honour banish'd from the toun : 
 
 Within this warld there's naething sure. 
 
 Where lives the man so cased in plate 
 That he can stand the stroke of fate ? 
 
 Or where is he whose glance secure 
 Can spy the wo that lies in wait ? 
 
 Within this warld there's naething sure. 
 
 Fair word from every mouth proceeds, 
 In every heart deception breeds ; 
 
 From every ee goes look demure, 
 But from the hand go few good deeds : 
 
 Within this warld there's naething sure.
 
 NOTHING SURE. 39 
 
 Lord ! since in time, so soon to come, 
 De terra surrecturus sum, 
 
 What needs I care for earthly cure ? 
 Tit regni da imperium, 
 
 For here at least there's naething sure.
 
 4° 
 
 PRAYER BEFORE THE SACRAMENT. 
 
 / Cry the Mercy and Lasar to Repent. 
 
 ■"TO Thee, to Thee alone, Redeemer mine, 
 
 My King, my Friend, my gracious Saviour 
 sweet, 
 Before Thy bleeding body I incline, 
 
 And for my sins forgiveness thus entreat, 
 That ever I did, up to this hour complete, 
 In act, or word, or unexprest intent ; 
 
 Down on my knees, fu' low before Thy feet, 
 I mercy beg, and leisure to repent. 
 
 Lord, I confess that I neglected have 
 
 Sweet Mercy's code, in spirit and in letter ; 
 
 Nor meat nor money to the sterving gave ; 
 Nor saw the sick, nor socht to mak' them 
 better ;
 
 PRAYER BEFORE THE SACRAMENT. 4 1 
 
 Nor clad the naked; nor relieved the debtor; 
 Nor of puir waifs an' wayfarers took tent ; 
 
 And would have pass'd the Magdalen had I 
 met her : 
 I mercy beg, and leisure to repent. 
 
 Thy wise commands — to honour Thee alone ; 
 
 Nor tak' Thy name in vain ; nor thief to be ; 
 To covet no man's aucht, pleased with my own; 
 
 Falsehood to shun, an' youthfu' lusts to flee ; 
 
 To act obedient to a parent's ee ; 
 To follow none with murderous intent : 
 
 Lord, for a broken law I lout to Thee, 
 And mercy beg, and leisure to repent. 
 
 Though I have not Thy precious feet to kiss, 
 As Magdalen had when she did mercy crave, 
 
 I'll weep like her for all I've done amiss, 
 
 And every morning seek Thee at Thy grave : 
 Therefore forgive me as Thou her forgave ; 
 
 Thou know'st my heart, like hers, is penitent ; 
 And grant, ere I the sacrament receive, 
 
 Pardon, and love, and leisure to repent.
 
 42 
 
 A MEDITATION IN WINTER. 
 In to thir dirk and drublie Day is. 
 
 T N Winter's dull an' drumlie day, 
 
 When Nature dons her dark array, 
 An' the lang tempest howling flies, 
 Mingling in ruin earth an' skies, 
 
 Sma' heart hae I to sing or play. 
 
 But maist when nicht draws out the hours 
 Wi' wind an' hail an' heavy show'rs, 
 My spirit sinks as in a tomb 
 For lack o' Simmer and her bloom 
 And a' the beauty of her bow'rs.
 
 A MEDITATION IN WINTER. 43 
 
 I toss, I turn ; sleep can I nane ; 
 
 Doubt an' dark fears disturb my brain : 
 This warld a' owre I cast about 
 For something to dispel my doubt, 
 
 But cast about this warld in vain. 
 
 Despair is ever at my side, 
 
 " Provide ! " he cries ; " in time provide : 
 
 Ye've wair'd or wastit a' your prime ; 
 
 Now think upon your latter time — 
 How will ye live ? whaur will ye bide ? " 
 
 Then Patience, counselling hope an' faith, 
 " Hold fast," she cries, " thy grip o' baith ! 
 Fortune's a jade — but cease to mum, 
 Her wheel erelang will tak' a turn ; 
 She'll mind ye yet, I'se tak' my aith ! " 
 
 Then Wisdom, as I glance her way, — 
 " Why fash to get what cannot stay, 
 Or can be thine but little space, 
 Thou tending to another place, 
 A journey going every day ? "
 
 44 A MEDITATION IN WINTER. 
 
 And then says Age — "My friend, come near; 
 
 Why shouldst thou start when I appear? 
 Come, brother, by the hand me tak' : 
 Remember thou has count to mak' 
 
 Of a' the time thou spendest here." 
 
 Syne Ane, a low door opening wide, 
 Says — " I am Death ; and here I bide, 
 And never yet was man sae stout 
 But to this lintel he maun lout : 
 There is nae ither way beside ! " 
 
 Wi' fear o' this a' day I droop ; 
 
 Nae coin in kist, nae wine in cup, 
 Nor woman's grace, nor loving kiss 
 Can keep me from remembering this, 
 
 How blythe soe'er I dine or sup. 
 
 Yet when the nichts begin to short, 
 It cheers my spirit in a sort, 
 
 Care-darken'd wi' the winter show'rs. 
 
 Come, loesome Simmer ! wi' thy fiow'rs, 
 That I may live in some disport.
 
 45 
 
 THE VANITY O'T. 
 
 All erdly Joy returnis in pane. 
 
 ATE as ae winter's nicht I lay 
 An' wearied for the licht o' day, 
 My thochts ran in a waefu' train 
 That a' this warld was made in vain. 
 
 Richt weel we ken that fail we must ; 
 The strongest body is but dust, 
 And shall to dust return again : 
 Surely the strength of man is vain. 
 
 We see that auld age swallows youth — 
 If it escape that gaping mouth 
 That tak's baith rick an' ripening grain 
 Surely the flower of youth is vain.
 
 46 THE VANITY o't. 
 
 Siller an' silks an' saft array — 
 
 What are they if they lie our way 
 
 But thorns wi' flow'rs an' leaves o'erlain ? 
 
 Surely this warld's wealth is vain. 
 
 Cam' never budding hope sae green 
 But disappointment cam' as keen ; 
 We trust, but never do attain : 
 Surely the hopes of man are vain. 
 
 Oh, wha can doubt that after joy 
 There's ever something to annoy ? 
 Now, since they canna aye remain, 
 Surely the joys of life are vain. 
 
 Friendship an' love are fair an' sweet, 
 Friendship an' love are aft deceit ; 
 The words are fause that mak' us fain 
 Surely the loves of man are vain.
 
 THE VANITY OT. 47 
 
 How aft the kindest heart that is 
 Grows cauld an' hard in avarice ! 
 How aft wi' greed is conscience slain ! 
 Surely our virtues are in vain. 
 
 Yet since 'tis fate that rules it a', 
 And life's short day slips fast awa', 
 Let's tak' the pleasure wi' the pain — 
 It has its value though it's vain.
 
 4 8 
 
 EASTER HYMN. 
 
 Done is a Battell on the Dragon Blak. 
 
 ■""THE fight is ended with the dragon black, 
 
 Christ stands victorious in the deadly stour, 
 The gates of hell are broken with a crack, 
 High shines the cross in this triumphant 
 
 hour; 
 See in the shade where devils trembling cow'r, 
 While ransom'd souls to blissful freedom go 
 
 Singing aloud their mighty champion's pow'r — 
 Surrexit Do minus de sepulchro. 
 
 Scotch'd is the laidly dragon Lucifar, 
 The cruel serpent with the mortal stang, 
 
 The auld keen tiger with his teeth ajar 
 That had in ambush lain for us sae lang,
 
 EASTER HYMN. 49 
 
 Thinking to grip us in his talons Strang ; 
 Thanks to our Lord that would not have it so, 
 
 But flew and snatch'd us from his pointed 
 fang— 
 Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro. 
 
 He for our sake that was a babe and slain, 
 
 And like a lamb in sacrifice was dight. 
 Is like a lion risen up again, 
 
 Or like a man with a great giant's might. 
 
 Fled is the darkness in disorder'd flight, 
 And yonder shines the glorious morning-glow, 
 
 Eternal day dawns on the dreary night — 
 Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro. 
 
 Our vicar from the grave is risen again 
 
 That in our quarrel to the death was wounded; 
 The sun that shrank in gloom now shines 
 amain; 
 Darkness removed, our faith is now re-founded; 
 
 4
 
 50 EASTER HYMN. 
 
 The bells of mercy from the heavens have 
 sounded ; 
 The christians are deliver'd from their wo 
 And of their crime the Jews now stand con- 
 founded — 
 Surrexit Dominus de sepulchre 
 
 The foe in flight, the struggle now may cease; 
 
 The tolbooth's broken and the dungeon 
 turned ; 
 The war is owre, establish'd is the peace; 
 
 Lowsed are the fetters and the jailers lamed; 
 
 The ransom paid, the prisoners are redeemed; 
 All's done — all's won ! baith spulzied is the foe 
 
 And plunder'd o' the spulzie that he claimed — 
 Surrexit Dominus de sepukhro.
 
 5* 
 
 THE MAKAR'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Faine ivald I with all Diligence. 
 
 "CAIN would I mak' a noble sang 
 
 That should thro' a' the kintra gang 
 
 An' fill the lug o' Scotland quite ; 
 The luck to Lewis may belang — 
 
 I ken it's no' in me to write. 
 
 For tho' I waited seven lang year, 
 
 An' plann'd the wark, an' made it clear, 
 
 An' soberly sat doun to 'dite, — 
 Hunders there are would snarling speir 
 
 Gif I had been advis'd to write.
 
 52 THE MAKAR'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 And first my maitter they would blame, 
 And, tho' I never mention'd name, 
 
 Would put upon my head the wite 
 Of blackening their honest fame; 
 
 And thus I kenna what to write. 
 
 If in my sang I prais'd a deed 
 Dune by a bairn of noble breed, 
 
 Then would they say I flatter'd quite, 
 Finding my motive in their greed ; 
 
 And thus again it's hard to write. 
 
 But if mean actions I decry — 
 O waur than flatterer then am I, 
 
 I live to slander an' backbite : 
 Nae wonder at this warld I sigh 
 
 And say I kenna what to write. 
 
 Unless I mak' to this man's mind, 
 Howe'er its bias is inclin'd, 
 
 My makin', sir, 's no' worth a mite ; 
 But critics are a contrar 3 kind, 
 
 An' wha to please them a' can write ?
 
 THE MAKAR'S COMPLAINT. 53 
 
 But when they a' begin to bowff 
 Till misery haunts the muse's howff, 
 
 Better I left the paper white 
 An' took to poaching, or to gowff, 
 
 Than write an' kenna what to write.
 
 54 
 
 A SONG OF RUE. 
 
 Sweit roiss of vertew and of gentilnes. 
 
 """THY glance, thy grace, thy winsome face, 
 
 And a' the charms about thee, O, — 
 O woman fair ! what man could dare 
 To look an' live without thee, O ? 
 But oh ! the pity of it, sweet ! 
 Though fair thou art, 
 Thou hast no pity in thy heart 
 To male' thy charms complete ! 
 
 Thy beauties a', sae fair they shaw, 
 To me they're like a garden, O ; 
 
 Thrice happy he that has the key, 
 
 He's mair than king that's warden, O.
 
 A SONG OF RUE. 55 
 
 But in this garden fair to view, 
 
 Where lilies fine 
 
 With roses red and white combine, 
 I miss the plant o' rue ! 
 
 I fear the norlan' winds hae blawn, 
 
 An', though they've spared a hantle, O, 
 The sweetest seed that e'er was sawn — 
 
 They've killed the braird sae gentle, O ! 
 It gie's my heart sae sair a pain 
 That I maun greet, 
 Amang sae mony flow'rs sae sweet, 
 Until it grows again !
 
 56 
 
 THE GREATEST GAIN. 
 
 Quho thinkis that he has safficience. 
 
 I_J E'S no' to maen, he needna murn 
 Wha has enow to serve his turn ; 
 
 And he that has baith stock an' rent 
 May fling his siller down the burn — 
 
 It's naething if he's no' content. 
 
 Therefore, although, my brither dear, 
 Few dainties at thy board appear, 
 
 Say grace to God for what is sent, 
 And of it gladly mak' gude cheer : 
 
 He has enow that is content.
 
 THE GREATEST GAIN. 57 
 
 If thou hast riches, deal them free ; 
 And if thou stand in povertee, 
 
 To stand in povertee consent ; 
 There's weal that wealth can never gie ; 
 
 And he's providit that's content. 
 
 Lastly, my friends an' brethren a', 
 If in this life ye've lairdship sma', 
 
 The less your fasherie thereanent 
 He that is low can hardly fa', 
 
 And he has plenty that's content.
 
 58 
 
 TO MY LORDS OF 'CHACKER. 
 
 My Lordis of Chacke.r, pleis yoiv to heir. 
 
 VE clerks that ovvre the cash preside, 
 Weel may ye wear a sleekit hide, 
 
 And weel may hardihood be yours ! 
 
 Ye little ken what he endures 
 Wha hasna siller at his side. 
 
 Nae doot ye wonder why I'm here : 
 Listen, and I shall mak' it clear 
 
 As simmer when the days are fine ; 
 
 For left is neither cross nor coin 
 Of a' my income for the year.
 
 TO MY LORDS OF 'CHACKER. 59 
 
 To reckon up my rents an' roums 
 
 I dinna need to tire my thoums, 
 
 Nor yet to gar my counters clink, 
 Nor paper to expend, nor ink, 
 
 In the receipting o' my soums. 
 
 I gat from that chield sitting there, 
 Some sax months syne, my annual share : 
 I canna tell ye how it's spendit 
 But weel I wat the siller's endit ; 
 An' what's the use o' reckoning mair ? 
 
 I mind I trow'd, what time I took it, 
 It would be lang ere I was rookit : 
 
 Miscalculation's been my curse ; 
 
 I hae nae proof o't but my purse, 
 Which wouldna lee gin it were lookit. 
 
 Sae, no' to keep ye idle mair, 
 Disburse what moneys ye can spare, 
 Report it to the next account, — 
 It can but lessen the amount ; 
 And may your baskets ne'er be bare !
 
 6o 
 
 ON CHANGE. 
 I seik abowte this warld onstable. 
 
 CAE cockerty it is, an' cantit, 
 
 Weel micht this warld be supplantit 
 
 By something steadier than is ; 
 
 For what o't can ye say but this, 
 That naething happens as ye want it ? 
 
 But yesterday the sun shone fair, 
 Blue was the sky, balmy the air, — 
 
 The warld was like a peacock feather 
 The day — it's stinging like a nether, 
 And boisterous as a wauken'd bear.
 
 ON CHANGE. 6 1 
 
 But yesterday, fair sprang the fiow'rs ; 
 
 The day — they're slain wi' sleety show'rs ; 
 
 An' bees that bumm'd, an' birds that sang, 
 Till Simmer wi' their service rang, 
 
 Are shivering in their bykes an' bow'rs. 
 
 Thus Winter comes at Simmer's e'en ; 
 Thus after comfort care blaws keen ; 
 
 And tho' from midnight comes the 
 morrow, 
 
 As certainly from joy comes sorrow : 
 Such is this life, and aye has been.
 
 62 
 
 JOHN TAMSON'S MAN. 
 
 Schir, for your Grace bayth Nicht and Day. 
 
 C IR, on my knees, baith nicht an' day, 
 
 Sincerely from my soul I pray, 
 Wi' a' the fervour that I can, — 
 Oh that ye were John Tamson's man ! 
 
 For, were it sae, then weel were me ; 
 Without a place I wouldna be ; 
 Endit were my misfortunes than, 
 If ye were ance John Tamson's man. 
 
 My advocat', baith fair an' sweet, 
 (Lang has she been, lang maun she be't ! ) 
 Would speed in my puir errand than, 
 If ye were but John Tamson's man.
 
 JOHN TAMSON'S MAN. 63 
 
 What hurt were dune, what harm could be, 
 Tho' ane, sae fair an' sweet as she, 
 Such influence owre your dourness wan 
 As to male' you John Tamson's man ? 
 
 Does that affection stand the test 
 That's mated wi' the first an' best 
 In Britain since the warld began 
 An' fears to be John Tamson's man ? 
 
 Thrissle ! we ance did a' suppose 
 The mercy o' the sweet meek rose 
 Would mould ye to a milder plan 
 By makin' ye John Tamson's man. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 I find him deaf I fand sae dour, 
 
 Sae pitiless to me sae poor; 
 
 I can but end as I began — 
 
 I wuss he was John Tamson's man !
 
 64 
 
 DISCRETION IN ASKING. 
 
 Off every asking followis nocht. 
 
 "D EMEMBER, when ye ask for ocht, 
 Let it be seasonably socht, 
 
 An' when there's reason folk will see; 
 An' when there's nane it will be thocht 
 
 Discretion should in asking be. 
 
 The man's a fule that, reason or nane, 
 Eternal seeks in ceaseless rane ; 
 
 Aye harping in a carping key, 
 He gets a hearer dull as stane : 
 
 Discretion should in asking be.
 
 DISCRETION IN ASKING. 65 
 
 Some ask for mair than they deserve ; 
 Some ask for naething — and they sterve; 
 
 Others again, shamefac'd like me, 
 In ill-rewairdit silence serve : 
 
 Discretion should in asking be. 
 
 To beg will hurt an honest name ; 
 
 To crave your ain, you're no' to blame ; 
 
 To serve, an' live in beggaree, 
 To man an' maister baith's a shame : 
 
 Discretion should in asking be. 
 
 He that has wrocht, an' dune his best, 
 Needs not to mak' it manifest 
 
 Wi' mony words to them that see ; 
 Few words gang to a wise request : 
 
 Discretion should in asking be. 
 
 It will not answer to be dumb, 
 For naething of itseP will come : 
 
 Then wale your wordies, twa or three, — 
 Whatever's got is got wi' some : 
 
 Discretion should in asking be. 
 
 5
 
 66 DISCRETION IN ASKING. 
 
 Some micht have Ay ! an' higher place, 
 That get a naysay to their face 
 
 For want of a discerning ee ; 
 They tyne their errand in disgrace: 
 
 Discretion should in asking be. 
 
 Tho' service may gang lang unquit, 
 Rewaird at last we'll surely get ; 
 
 If not — alas ! what remedie ? 
 To fecht wi' fate shaws little wit ; 
 
 We'll ask discreetly, — and we'll dee.
 
 6 7 
 
 CHANGE OF PARTY. 
 
 Schir, at this Feist of Benefyce. 
 
 "M OW that appointments are to mak', 
 
 And mony hands are stretch'd to tak', 
 Sir, I mak' bauld advice to gie ; — 
 
 Better a place, 
 Tho' but within the door it be, 
 Than let a loyal servant lack 
 
 For faut o' grace. 
 
 For whether is the merit mair 
 
 To gie him drink that's thirsting sair, 
 
 Or fill a fu' man till he burst — 
 
 Leaving to pine 
 His fallow perishing o' thirst, 
 Wha maybe mair deserving were 
 To swallow wine.
 
 68 CHANGE OF PARTY. 
 
 It's hardly a convivial toun 
 Where Jock looks merry an' John looks doun, 
 Where Watty swallows like a trout 
 
 An' Davy's dry ; 
 Na ! let the caup gang round about 
 From lip of lord to lip of loon — 
 Fairplay ! say I.
 
 69 
 
 THE REIGN OF COVETICE. 
 
 Ffredome, Honour and Nobilnes. 
 
 T T was a happier warld in sooth 
 
 As I remember't in my youth : 
 We're aff upon a new device, 
 We're a' gaun wrang thro' covetice. 
 
 gie me back the by-gane days, 
 The big, free-handit, hearty ways ! 
 Ye're a' sae nippit an' sae nice, 
 Ye're a' gane wrang thro' covetice. 
 
 Whaur are the social lives we led, 
 Whaur are the social games we hed ? 
 There's nae play noo but cards an' dice, 
 The warld's changed thro' covetice.
 
 7<3 THE REIGN OF COVETICE. 
 
 O mony a laird in mony a toun 
 'S a near-be-gaun an' niggart loon 
 Whase faithers never kent the vice, 
 And a' thro' cause o' covetice. 
 
 In brughs to landwart an' to sea, 
 Where peace an' plenty wont to be, 
 Pleasure's gane up to famine price, 
 And a' thro' faut o' covetice. 
 
 Farmers that hed a saddle seat, 
 Wi' kye an' corn to sell an' eat, 
 Keep nae beast noo but cats an' mice, 
 And a' thro' cause o' covetice. 
 
 He that to friendly deeds inclin'd 
 Would live at peace wi' a' mankind, 
 He's lauch'd at for his simple ch'ice, 
 And a' thro' cause o' covetice.
 
 THE REIGN OF COVETICE. 7 1 
 
 But he that aff his neighbour man 
 Rives a' the profit that he can, 
 He's ca'd an active chield, an' wice, 
 And a' thro' cause o' covetice. 
 
 Man, please thy Maker an' be merry, 
 And set not by this warld a cherry, 
 Work for the place of paradice 
 For therein reigns nae covetice.
 
 72 
 
 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 
 
 Quhen Merche was with variand Windis past. 
 
 YVTHEN Merch with his unruly winds was 
 past, 
 And April, that cam' in with peevish show'rs, 
 Had like a tinkler tane her leave at last, 
 
 And May, that should be mither to the 
 
 flow'rs, 
 Had choused the birds back to the frozen 
 bow'rs 
 Amang the orchards, reddening in despite, 
 Whose sangs to hear it was a sad delight ; 
 
 In bed one morning as I dovering lay, 
 
 Methought Aurora with her glimmering een 
 Stole to my lattice at the dawn of day,
 
 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 73 
 
 And looking in with visage pale and green 
 Invited me to rise and write the scene 
 With " Waken, poet ! from your slumbering," 
 And " Listen to the linties how they sing." 
 
 And then methought before my bed upstood 
 Fair May herself in habit rich and new, 
 
 With such a pleasant face as did me good, 
 And such a posy bright with blabs o' dew 
 And gay with colour, red and white and blue, 
 
 That it both filled and overflowed my dream, 
 
 And all the house enlivened with the gleam. 
 
 " Poet ! " she said, " my poet ! rise for shame, 
 And in my honour take thy pen and write ; 
 
 Hear how the larks the merry day proclaim 
 To waken lovers to their own delight. 
 Once thou wert fain and foremost to indite, 
 
 Thy heart — time was — has glad and blissful 
 been, 
 
 Making for me under the leaves sae green."
 
 74 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 
 
 "Wherefore should I uprise at early morn? 
 At this cauld season wha (said I) can sing ? 
 
 Mair cause hae I to weep and wail forlorn, 
 May days that were of old remembering : 
 May days they were — but these are no such 
 thing. 
 
 Rise they wha like to thole your sleety scorn, 
 
 Amang your bow'rs to walk I have forborne." 
 
 Thereat the lady placidly did smile, 
 
 And said, "Uprise and 'sey thy wonted 
 pow'rs ; 
 Hast thou forgot thy promise made erewhile 
 To celebrate in May the queen of flow'rs ? 
 Lo ! here is May : the birds are in their 
 bow'rs, 
 The sun is shining on their feathers bright, 
 And song is welling from their bosoms light." 
 
 She turned and went, and with her all the gleam 
 
 That such a glory to my chamber lent ; 
 At which, methought, for it was still a dream,
 
 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 75 
 
 In sark and mantle after her I went 
 Into a garden, fair and full of scent, 
 With herbs, and plants, and paths for naked 
 
 feet, 
 Fragrant of breath and fresh with morning's 
 weet. 
 
 Just then the sun on wings of orient red 
 Did as an angel in the east appear ; 
 
 A twist of gold enclosed his shapely head, 
 And his long tresses glittered golden clear ; 
 And all the world beholding, far and near, 
 
 Took comfort looking on his blissful face, 
 
 And blessed him with his own reflected grace. 
 
 And him the only ruler of the sky 
 
 The cock did first proclaim with martial 
 might, 
 And next with choral throats the birds did cry 
 " Begone, thou foe to love ! away, dull night ! 
 But welcome, day ! that comforts every 
 wight ;
 
 76 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 
 
 And welcome May-time, flow'rs, and morning 
 
 sheen, 
 And nature's charms, and love — of all the 
 
 queen." 
 
 Dame Nature then gave inhibition there 
 To Neptune fierce and ^Eolus the bauld 
 
 Not to perturb the water nor the air, 
 
 And that no show'r of hail nor snip of cauld 
 Should do offence to flow'r in field or fauld ; 
 
 And Juno too she bade, that bides on high, 
 
 To keep it fine, and fair aboon, and dry. 
 
 She next ordained that every bird and beast 
 Before her presence should at once appear, 
 
 And every bloom of virtue, most and least, 
 And herb of field or forest, far and near, 
 As they were wont in May from year to 
 year : 
 
 She was their maker, and it bude them a' 
 
 To own her orders and respect her law.
 
 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 77 
 
 With that she straight dispatched the souple roe 
 
 To gather in the beasts of every kind ; 
 The swallow she deputed next to go 
 
 And fetch the birds, leave none of them 
 
 behind ; 
 And for the flow'rs she thought within her 
 mind 
 There was the gowan — but she sent the yarrow, 
 And forth it sprang as fleet as flying arrow. 
 
 Then swith, within the twinkling of an ee, 
 Beast, bird, and fiow'r were a' before their 
 queen ; 
 
 And first the lion, foremost in degree, 
 
 Was summoned forward : with respectful mien, 
 But with a hardy countenance and keen, 
 
 Before the Dame he cam' and bowed the knee — 
 
 Yet nane the less a lion bauld was he. 
 
 This is the creature that gars others quake ; 
 
 Strong-faced and stern he is, of piercing ee, 
 Unmatchable in grace and strength of make,
 
 78 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 
 
 Well-knit, and in his motions light and free. 
 
 Red is the ruby, and like that is he ; 
 Ramping in field of gold he standeth stout, 
 With fleur-de-luces circled all about. 
 
 The lady stooped and lifted up his paw, 
 And kindly let him lean upon her knee, 
 
 And crowned him with a diadem sae braw, 
 Blazing with gems it was a joy to see ; 
 "And now thou art the King of Beasts," said 
 she, 
 
 "And lord protector of the woods and shaws, 
 
 Go to thy lieges and uphold the laws. 
 
 Be just at first and merciful at length ; 
 
 And let no wee beast suffer scaith nor scorn 
 From bigger beast that would misuse its 
 strength ; 
 
 Do law alike to ape and unicorn ; 
 
 And let nae bull with an aggressive horn 
 The meek plough ox oppress in sulky pride, 
 But in the yoke draw doucely him beside."
 
 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 79 
 
 And next she crowned the eagle King of Fowls, 
 And gave him vision far and speed of pens ; 
 
 And bade him be as fair to whaups and owls 
 As unto peacocks, popinjays, and crenns ; 
 And mak' ae law for craws and kittie-wrens ; 
 
 And let no bird of ravenous beak affray 
 
 Nor massacre except for lawful prey. 
 
 Then summoned she the flow'rs ; the fiow'rs 
 obeyed ; 
 This with its bud, that with its bell appears ; 
 At last her look upon the thistle stayed, 
 She saw him kepit with a bush of spears, 
 She found him apt and able for the weirs, 
 So him she crowned, red was the crown she 
 
 gave, 
 And said " In field go forth and 'fend the lave. 
 
 And since thou hast the crown be thou discreet, 
 And give each plant its proper rate and 
 price, 
 For some are virtueless, and some are sweet,
 
 8o THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 
 
 And some are like the nettle full of vice ; 
 
 You would not match it with the fleur-de-lys ; 
 The lily to the weebie must not yield, 
 You would not let it drive her from the field. 
 
 And hold no other flow'r in equal fame 
 
 With the fresh rose, the rose both red and 
 white, 
 For if thou do thy judgment is to blame, 
 
 For there is none though fair to match her 
 
 quite, 
 So sweet of breath, so pleasant to the sight, 
 So graceful or so gracious none can be, 
 So worth thy worship every way as she." 
 
 Then on the rose she turned a gracious glance, 
 And said " O loveliest daughter of the Spring, 
 
 Lift up with joy thy blushing countenance 
 And in thy praise shall grove and garden ring; 
 Thou needs but look to have a welcoming. 
 
 Come, bloom of bliss, and wear the diademe, 
 
 For owre the lave thy beauty shines supreme."
 
 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 8 1 
 
 Then with a crown with many a jewel bright 
 Nature methought did her fair brows en- 
 close 
 And all the land illumined with its light ; 
 Whereat a cry from all the garden rose 
 Of " Welcome, that art the fairest flow'r that 
 blows ! 
 Welcome, that worthy art to be our queen ! 
 That to be honoured needs but to be seen ! " 
 
 It was the saft voice of the flow'rs I heard : 
 And then the birds methought took up the 
 tune; 
 And first it was a solitary bird, 
 
 The mavis first, and then the merle, and 
 
 soon 
 The nightingale below, the lark aboon ; 
 And " Hail," they sang, "the rose both red and 
 
 white ! " 
 And " Hail," they sang, " the rose of most 
 delight ! "
 
 82 THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE. 
 
 Then all the birds burst forth with sic a shout 
 I started in my sleep, and woke anon, 
 
 But missing all the pleasance turned about 
 To dream again : alas ! the dream was gone. 
 Then up I rose, and wandered forth alone, 
 
 And mused, and made what ye have heard me 
 say, 
 
 On the ninth morning of the present May.
 
 83 
 
 DUNBAR'S DREAM. 
 
 This hinder Nycht befoir the dawing deir. 
 
 T AST nicht, some time before the dawing 
 
 clear, 
 Methocht Saint Francis did to me appear 
 With a religious habit in his hand, 
 And said, " In this go deed thee, William, 
 and 
 Gie up the warld, for thou maun be a freer." 
 
 Wi' him an' wi' his habit I was scaur'd, 
 Suner a ghaist i' gloamin' I wad daur'd, 
 But when i' bed he laid it me abune, 
 Upon the flure richt cleverly an' sune 
 I lowpit out, an' never wad come nar'd.
 
 84 dunbar's dream. 
 
 Quo' he, " What ails thee at the haly weed ? 
 Cleed thee therein, for wear it thou must need : 
 
 Thou that has lang made sangs for all and 
 each, 
 
 Sail now be freer, and in this habit preach: 
 Mak' no delay — it maun be done indeed." 
 
 Quo' I, " Saint Francis, loving be thee till, 
 An' thankit mote thou be for thy gudewill 
 
 In being wi' thir claes to me sae kind ; 
 
 But then (quo' I) they're hardly to my 
 mind; 
 If I refuse them, dinna tak' it ill. 
 
 Of legends of the saints I've read eleven, 
 An' there I find the bishops number seven ; 
 
 The rest were freers, an' few they were 
 
 indeed ; 
 Therefore gae bring to me a bishop's weed 
 If ever thou would my soul should come to 
 heaven."
 
 dunbar's dream. 85 
 
 "Ye ken," quo' then Saint Francis, losing 
 
 patience, 
 " The brethren oft have made thee supplications 
 
 To tak' the habit, but thou did postpone ; 
 
 But ony mair ado, therefore, come on, 
 An' mak' nae langer silly excusations." 
 
 Quo' I, " But I was ance a prentice freer ; 
 
 The date thereof is past fu' mony a year, 
 
 But a' thro' England, southward to Calace, 
 In every burrowstoun an' country-place, 
 
 Drest in that habit have I made gude cheer. 
 
 In it I've bann'd an' beggit, lee'd an' fleech'd ; 
 In it in every pu'pit have I preach'd 
 
 South from Corstorphine Kirk to Canter- 
 bury; 
 
 In it I past at Dover owre the ferry 
 To Picardy, an' there the people teach'd.
 
 86 dunbar's dream. 
 
 As lang as I did bear the freer's style, 
 My life, gude kens, was ae lang wicked wile : 
 In me was inclination aye to flatter, 
 And, what will wash out wi' nae haly watter, 
 I was aye ready a' men to beguile." 
 
 The freer that did Saint Francis there appear — 
 The fiend he was, in likeness of a freer ! 
 
 Wi' horns aneath his hood ! And as I spoke 
 He vanish'd in a flash o' fire an' smoke, 
 Vanish'd, an' took the house-end wi' him near !
 
 87 
 
 THE TWA CUMMERS. 
 Rycht airlie on Ask Weddinsday. 
 
 T) ICHT early on Ash-Wednesday 
 
 Drinkin' the wine sat cummers tway; 
 
 The tane did to the tither complain, 
 Sichin' an' sowpin' did she say — 
 
 This lang Lentern mak's me lean. 
 
 On stool beside the fire she sat ; 
 Gude kens if she was grit an' fat ; 
 
 Yet to be feeble she did feign, 
 And aye she said " Here's proof o' that ; 
 
 Ifs the lang Lentern mak's me lean."
 
 88 THE TWA CUMMERS. 
 
 " My fair sweet cummer," quo' the tither, 
 " Ye tak' your leanness aff your mither ; 
 
 A' kind o' wine she would disdain 
 But malvaisie — she'd bide nae ither." 
 
 This lang Lentern mak's me lean. 
 
 " Cummer, be blythe, baith e'en an' morrow, 
 An' let your husband drie the sorrow ; 
 
 But you from fasting should refrain ; 
 And I'se uphaud, St. Bride to borrow, 
 
 That Lentern shall ?iot mak you lean." 
 
 " Your counsel, cummer, 's gude," quo' she ; 
 " Fill a fu' caup, an' drink to me ; 
 
 That man o' mine's no' worth a bean : 
 This is the only joy I ha'e, 
 
 And Lentern shall ?tot mak' me lean" 
 
 Thir twa, out of a mutchkin stoup, 
 They drank twa chappin, sowp for sowp, 
 
 Sae great a drouth did them constrain ; 
 By then to mend they had gude howp 
 
 And Lentern wouldna mak' them lean.
 
 8 9 
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 As it Befell and happinit into deid. 
 
 P\OWN at the mouth o' Tweed there stands 
 
 a toun 
 Wi' tours o' strength an' stane wa's girdled roun', 
 And a great castle seen far aff at sea, 
 A lastin' landmark in the sailor's ee. 
 
 But to tell owre its strength an' warlike stores, 
 Its ports an' pends, hinged brigs an' slidin' 
 
 doors, 
 Merlons aloft, wi' morions glancin' clear, 
 Hackbuts, an' scaldin' pats, an' siclike gear, 
 Crossbows, an' cracks, and other gins o' death, 
 Shot-holes a' doun, an' double stanks beneath —
 
 90 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 The bare account would need a lang day haill, 
 An' nae ways help the progress o' my tale. 
 
 The toun was thus, as ye may weel suppose, 
 Safe for its friends an' prief against its foes ; 
 An' meikle was the need o' bar an' gin, 
 For meikle was the merchandise therein. 
 
 Ships from a' shores met in the river's mouth, 
 An' mixed the treasures o' the north an' south 
 But at the ports what chafferin' was to hear ! 
 And on the streets, what thrang o' folk asteer ! 
 A noble oun indeed, far-kenn'd an' famed, 
 Fit for a capital, and Berwick named. 
 
 From Aberdeen to Bristol, trace the coast, — 
 Was there a toun that could owre Berwick 
 
 boast ? 
 Nae toun but ane — ane was the most an' least ; 
 London stude first, and Berwick it cam' neist.
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 9 1 
 
 1 
 
 What gallants braw within this toun were seen 
 What bouncing lasses blessed thir gallants' 
 
 een ! 
 What merchants grave, what busy 'prentice 
 
 loons, 
 An' what a thrang o' legs an' din o' soun's ! 
 The kilted fishwife skirlin' cods an' skates, 
 The stoopit plow-man clatterin' wi' his buits, 
 The menstrils tootin' different airs at ance, 
 The bluegoons fechtin' wi' the tykes for banes, 
 The cuisser's heels upon the causey ringin', 
 The lame man cursin', an' the blind man singin' ; 
 While here an' there, like shadows thro' the 
 
 toun, 
 The sandal'd freers gaed saftly up an' doun, 
 The black freers an' the grey ; but, frockt in 
 
 white, 
 Like sunbeam rather show'd the Carmelite. 
 
 Of famous convents in this toun were two, 
 The Great Cross Abbey and the Maison Dew : 
 Within the Abbey when he list to dwell
 
 9 2 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 Ruled Father John — of whom my tale I tell ; 
 
 A vigorous Abbot of his age, and fresh, 
 
 But little mortified of soul or flesh, 
 
 He prowl'd about in secret paths by night, — 
 
 His piety was only for the light. 
 
 Sleekit he was, an' carefu' to conceal, 
 
 And vulnerable only at the heel. 
 
 Within that other house, the Manse of God, 
 Amang the lave twa simple freers abode, 
 Of little piety, but less pretence, 
 And not without a cast of common-sense. 
 
 Unlike in looks they were, and age, and size, 
 But mated weel in every other wise ; 
 Easy they were, without one spark of pride ; 
 They lookit on, an' loot the warld slide. 
 
 Robert, the taller and the younger freer, 
 Was a lean brother of a sober cheer ;
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 93 
 
 While Allan, some-deal auld, an' short, an' 
 
 round, 
 Gaed smiling wi' his een upon the ground. 
 
 Their friendship was not feign'd, nor new to 
 
 mak'; 
 I trow they had nae secrets in their crack ; 
 Close had they been, an' constant, mony a year ; 
 Atween the twa ye had a single freer. 
 
 Now to my tale : As it befell one day 
 (Mild was the morning, and the month was May) 
 Thir twa white freers set aff upon their rounds, 
 Rejois'd like laddies to evade their bounds. 
 
 Their road by Melrose an' by Jethart lay, 
 A three-weeks wander, an' a weel-kenn'd way, — 
 For they were chosen every year sans faile 
 To pass amang the brethren of the dale, 
 Report of Haly Kirk, and how it stood, 
 An' lift an antern awmous as they could.
 
 94 
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 Heartsome it was to hear upon their way 
 
 " Ho, Robert ! " an' " Hoo, Allan ! " owre the 
 
 lay, 
 Wi' mony a welcome at the landwart toun, 
 An' mony a saft an' social sitting doun ; — 
 For weel our freers could dally wi' the wives, 
 An' tell them tales o' saints' an' sinners' lives ; 
 Nor less, when at the Abbeys up-o'-land, 
 Could silent hear, be mute and understand. 
 
 At last their Easter holiday was ended, 
 
 An' the last day was come as hame they wended. 
 
 It was a day o' darkness, wind, an' rain, 
 Mist on the hills, an' puddles on the plain, 
 As doun the gate, hungry, an' tired, an' weet, 
 Toiled Rab and Allan, silent wi' sair feet. 
 
 Puir Allan stotted on at half a race, 
 The smile was deein' on his dismal face ; 
 Blae were his cheeks that had outbloom'd the 
 rose,
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 95 
 
 And a cauld drap hung ever at his nose. 
 He hardly lookit as in trim for travel — 
 Hark i' your lug ! he had a touch o' gravel — 
 And now an' then he groan'd ; yet all the while 
 Disown'd his sufferings with a dreary smile. 
 
 Robert was weet, an' lank, but het o' blude, 
 An' strong an' swank, an' carried a hiech head 
 And in a bundle a' the gear they needed ; 
 An' grim an' lichtly owre the puddles speeded. 
 
 By this, an early gloamin' brocht the nicht 
 Afore its time, an' Berwick was in sicht, 
 When Allan spak'— " Robert, I meikle fear 
 The burgh's yetts are closed ere we win near ; 
 And we're baith tired and wat, an' fain wad 
 
 hame; 
 If herbour's near, I wuss I kenn'd its name." 
 
 "There's only Symon Lowrie's," answer'd 
 
 Robert, 
 " Decent aneuch, if he's at hame an' sober't, —
 
 96 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 But, gudesake ! Allan, haud your heart aboun, 
 An' lift your taes — I'm sure we'll reach the 
 toun." 
 
 Erelang the road led doun a steep decline ; 
 They turn'd a bend, an' there was Symon's sign : 
 A couthie alehouse, by the roadside set, 
 Ahint a boortree and an open yett, 
 Wi' the twa cross-keys on a creakin' board, — 
 The gift to Peter of his gracious Lord. 
 
 The reek rase from its hospitable lum, 
 An' promis'd warmth, at least, to all an' some. 
 " We'se heat our fingers, an' we'se rest our fit, 
 An' we'se be better furnish'd ere we flit " — 
 The words were Allan's, an' the wish was Rab's ; 
 So in they turn'd their noses an' their gabs. 
 
 The house was baith a tavern and a taft, 
 Land to the front o't, an' the grund was saft — 
 Na ! mair nor saft ; it was a dounricht mire, 
 Where ducks micht dabble to their heart's desire.
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 97 
 
 Into the slough our travellers stoutly ventur'd, 
 And up the staps, and in the alehouse enter'd, 
 An' there was Symon's marrow i' the trance 
 Wha stood and ee'd them wi' nae welcome 
 
 glance. 
 She was a comely wife — but had the name 
 Thro' Berwick of "a ding an' dangerous dame." 
 
 Allan curcuddied, Robert bow'd an' beckit, 
 She neither took their reverence, nor rejeckit. 
 
 Then brother Robert speer'd for the gudeman — 
 " How's honest Symmie ? " and she answer'd 
 
 than : 
 " He gaed fra hame," quo' she, " last Waddins- 
 
 day, 
 To see an' buy a pickle corn an' hay, 
 And ither things whereof we stand in need." 
 To which says Robert — "And I wuss him speed ! 
 And may he sune return as sound an' haill 
 As when he started. But we'll taste your ale ; 
 
 7
 
 98 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 For tho' I'm weet without as far's the skin, 
 I maun confess I'm dry aneuch within." 
 
 She fill'd the stowp, and brocht oot cheese an' 
 
 bread, 
 An' doun they sat, and a blythe supper made. 
 
 But Allan was a man of social mood, 
 
 An' made, where'er he gaed, gude neibourhood, 
 
 An' sune he liftit up his voice to cry 
 
 " Come hither, dame, an' sit ye doun me by, 
 
 An' kiss the caup — richt welcome sail ye be ; " 
 
 An' blinkit on her wi' a faither's ee. 
 
 An' Robert added, as the wife was sweer, 
 
 " We'se pay ye well — of that have ye no fear." 
 
 An' now twa blythe freers by the blazin' fire 
 Sat as they settled, and enjoy'd their tire ; 
 An' spake their news to please the dorty dame, 
 An' drank their swats, an' thocht themsel's at 
 hame.
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 99 
 
 Richt in the middle o' a merry tale 
 The roll of Berwick drum cam' up the dale ; 
 An' their ain Abbey bells, borne on the blast, 
 Rang in their lugs the hour of grace was 
 
 past. 
 Happy they were ; — but now, without a doot, 
 The yetts were closed, an' they were lockit 
 
 oot! 
 Then the gudewife they pray'd, as weel they 
 
 micht, 
 To grant them herbour for that single nicht. 
 
 " What ! herbour freers ? an' the gudeman fra 
 
 hame? 
 The Virgin keep the scandal fra my name ! 
 An' what would Symon say, in sic a case, 
 But in his absence I abus'd his place ! 
 Had I thocht this ye'd never gotten in ; — 
 And as it is, it's late aneuch for sin ; 
 Ye maun be stappin'; gang your wa's," says 
 
 she, 
 And up she gat with danger in her ee.
 
 IOO FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 " Surely ye canna mean the thing ye say," 
 Auld Allan said ; " we'd baith be dead ere day 
 A lang late road ! but even safe suppose't, 
 It leads to nae gate, for the yetts are clos't. 
 Ye wouldna hae us, perish'd i' the dark, 
 Return'd upon your hand at morning stark ? 
 Therefore, for very need, we maun bide still, — 
 In a' thing else submittin' to your will ; 
 Little we seek, nor meikle mair desire — 
 Our boddom-breadths and a sma' blink o' 
 fire." 
 
 She glanced a troubled look fra freer to freer, 
 An' spak' at last — " At least ye'se no' be here ; 
 But gin ye list to lig into the laft, 
 There's a braw flure-head, an' fatigue mak's 
 
 saft — 
 Or Meg can look ye up some orra claes : 
 That, or the road ! mak' up your minds, an' 
 
 chiise ; 
 And not one further favour need ye speer, 
 For, on no wise, will I repair have here ! "
 
 FRIARS OF BERWICK. IOI 
 
 Wi' that she sent some blankets on before, 
 Turn'd to her huswifeskep, and no words 
 more. 
 
 Since better couldna be, they were content, 
 Follow'd the lass, an' to the laft they went ; 
 A roomy place, abune the hallan wrocht. 
 Meg made their bed, an' left them to their 
 
 thocht, 
 An' closed the trap, an' took the steps away; 
 And, lodged at least, sae far they had their 
 
 way. 
 
 Auld Allan loot a pech, an' laid him doun, 
 Shot oot his legs, and sune was sleepin' 
 
 soun; 
 But Rab, tho' tryin' a' the airts at anes, 
 Fand aye the bed at variance wi' his banes ; 
 Till, rowin' to the wa', he spied a chink, 
 An', lookin' doun, — " I'll watch that wife, I 
 
 think ; 
 She's far owre clever for an honest woman ; 
 But wait a bit — something by ordinar's comin' ! "
 
 102 FRIARS OF BERWICK. 
 
 He was not wrang; for that same nicht, nae 
 
 less, 
 She had a supper to devise an' dress, 
 An' loving company to entertain, 
 And all that company was only ane. 
 It was not Symon, on the hunt for strae — 
 St. Julian be his hap where'er he gae ! 
 It was that rovin' minion of the mirk, 
 Black John, the Abbot of the Great Cross Kirk !
 
 io3 
 
 DUNBAR FLYTING. 
 
 Thou speiris, dastard, gif I dar with thefecht. 
 
 HPHY backside bare, thy very inside boss, 
 
 Vile gang-there-oot, that livest but to sorn, 
 Thou brings the Carrick clay to Embro' cross, 
 Hobblin' on buitts that are as hard as horn ; 
 Strae-wisps stick oot whaur that the waits are 
 worn; 
 Come thou again to shame us wi' thy straes 
 
 And we shall scail oor schules, an' put to scorn, 
 An' stane thee up the causey whaur thou gaes ! 
 
 Sune as they see thy snout an' lantern jaws 
 The bairns cry oot " Here comes oor ain 
 queer dark ! " 
 Then flees thou like a howlet chas'd by craws, 
 While at thy buit-heels a' the toon tykes 
 bark :
 
 104 DUNBAR FLYTING. 
 
 Up flee the windows — mutches fra the dark 
 Peer oot, an' cry " Look, whaur the rascal gaes! 
 
 The gallace-face ! I see he wants a sark, 
 I rede ye, kimmers, tak' in your linen claes ! " 
 
 Then rins thou doun the gate, with noise of 
 boys, 
 
 And a' the toon tykes hingin' at thy heels ; 
 Of lads an' loons there rises sic a noise, 
 
 Auld aivers tak' the road wi' rattlin' wheels ; 
 
 An' cadger-pownies cast baith coals an' creels 
 For noise o' thee an' clatter o' thy buits ; 
 
 Fishwives let drive at thee wi' guts an' squeals 
 That clash around thy lugs and clod thy cuits !
 
 io5 
 
 I 
 
 A WELCOME TO THE LORD 
 TREASURER. 
 
 Time — Pension Day at the Martinmas Term. 
 
 / thocht lang quhile sum lord come hame. 
 
 T WEARIED lang till ane cam' hame 
 
 Fra whom I fain wad kindness claim ; 
 His name, sae sweet, I will declare — 
 It's you, my ain Lord Treasurer. 
 
 Owre every man except the King, 
 Except the crown owre every thing, 
 Wi' a' my micht, tho' it was mair, 
 Welcome, my ain Lord Treasurer !
 
 106 WELCOME TO THE LORD TREASURER. 
 
 When I for payment did assay, 
 Ye promised " Sune — on sic a day ; " 
 And here we are, a punctual pair, — 
 Welcome, my ain Lord Treasurer ! 
 
 Ye keep your tryst sae wonder weel, 
 I haud ye true as Carron steel ; 
 Needs nane your payment to despair — 
 Welcome, my ain Lord Treasurer ! 
 
 Nae doot but I'd been singin' dule 
 To gang without my wage till Yule ; 
 Now I can sing, with heart unsair, 
 Welcome, my ain Lord Treasurer ! 
 
 Welcome, my benefice and my rent, 
 That comes when my last plack is spent ; 
 Welcome, my pension, sure an' fair, — 
 Welcome, my ain Lord Treasurer !
 
 WELCOME TO THE LORD TREASURER. 107 
 
 Welcome, as heartily as I can, 
 My ain dear maister to your man, 
 And to your servant evermair — 
 Welcome, my ain Lord Treasurer !
 
 io8 
 
 TO AN EDITOR. 
 
 My Prince i?i God gif the guid grace. 
 
 XT 00 that the time for wussin's near, 
 
 The yokin' o' anither year, — 
 Sound sleep, an' fingers haill an' fier, 
 I wuss ye for your hansel here. 
 
 Warm be your heart as heretofore, 
 Your hand as liberal as of yore, 
 Your basket fu', and a fu' store, 
 Be yours fra noo till Ninety-four. 
 
 As sweetly may ye draw an' drive, 
 As bauldly may ye rug an' rive, 
 As stoutly for the Union strive, 
 And greener yet your Thistle thrive !
 
 TO AN EDITOR. 109 
 
 Nae hoax nor vile canard come near ye, 
 Nae fine nor litigation fear ye, 
 Nae braggin' rival start nor steer ye, 
 But aye your merits mair endear ye ! 
 
 Clear be your head, an' quick your ee, 
 Thrang may your quills an' columns be, 
 And wider yet your numbers flee — 
 And that's the New Year wuss o' me. 
 
 Quod Hugh Haliburton, 
 on $ist December 1892.
 
 Glossary.
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Aboon, above ; in heaven. 
 
 Ae, one. 
 
 Aforrow, before. 
 
 Ain, own. 
 
 Aiver, work-horse. 
 
 Amdne, amen, end. 
 
 Antern, occasional — one 
 here and one there; 
 (literally) "adventur- 
 ing," or wandering. 
 
 Ask Waddinsday, Ash Wed- 
 nesday. 
 
 Ancht, possession; from 
 "owe" = "own." 
 
 Awmous, alms — by elision of 
 /, peculiar to Scots and 
 French. 
 
 Baith, both. 
 
 Bairn, child, descendant ; 
 from "bear." 
 
 Belang'd tkem = belonged to 
 them. 
 
 Bide, endure ; abide. 
 
 Blink, glimpse, or gleam. 
 
 Blue-goons, privileged men- 
 dicants who wore the 
 uniform of a blue gown. 
 
 Bobbit, danced. 
 
 Boddom, bottom. 
 
 Bools, balls. From Fr. 
 "boule." 
 
 Boortree, elder-tree, not 
 
 alder ; planted at gates 
 
 and in gardens to keep 
 
 away imps ; called also 
 
 " boontree " and "boo'- 
 
 try." 
 
 8
 
 H4 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Boss, empty, hollow. 
 
 Bowff, to bow or bark ; an 
 imitative word. 
 
 Braird, the first appearance 
 of the leaf of germinat- 
 ing corn ; what Chaucer 
 calls "the tendre 
 croppes." 
 
 Bude, behoved — with the 
 idea of obligation or 
 necessity. 
 
 Suits, phonetically for 
 "boots." 
 
 Burn, a brook. To fling 
 anything down the burn 
 is to part with it for ever. 
 
 Cadger, travelling-merchant. 
 
 Cd!s, calls ; drives. 
 
 Cast, the quantity thrown to 
 
 one's lot. 
 Candles, candles. 
 Cantit, leaning to one side ; 
 
 or on the edge. 
 Carline, an old wife; from 
 
 "ceorl." "Carle" is 
 
 an old man. 
 
 'Chacker, Exchequer. 
 Chappin, a quart. 
 Chaumer, chamber. 
 Cheeny, china. 
 Chiel\ \ 
 
 c/^,jy° un s man > orlad - 
 
 Chucky-slane, a small quartz 
 pebble ; named from the 
 sound. 
 
 Chiise, choose. 
 
 Claes, clothes. 
 
 Cleed, clothe. 
 
 Clegs or Glegs, gadflies, or 
 "goad "-flies. 
 
 Clock, hatch — said of a brood- 
 hen ; from the sound. 
 
 Cockerty, unsteadily poised. 
 
 Cziisser, courser. 
 
 Covetice, covetousness, greed. 
 
 Couthie, comfortable or 
 home-like, because 
 known; from "cunnan," 
 to know. 
 
 Crack, cannon; from the 
 sound. 
 
 Crap, harvest ; also craw, 
 or stomach. Crop.
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 "5 
 
 Cretins, herons, cranes. 
 Crony, chum. From 
 
 "crone," an old woman, 
 
 or gossip. 
 Cuist, cast. 
 Cuits, ankles. 
 Cummer, gossip : French, 
 
 "corn-mere." Also 
 
 "kimmer." 
 Curcuddy, to curtsey low; 
 
 a child's game. 
 
 Dally, to gossip leisurely. 
 Chaucer's Friar also 
 knew "moche of dali- 
 aunce. " 
 
 Dangerous, imperious, dic- 
 tatorial. Antonio lay 
 within Shylock's "dan- 
 ger" — i.e., his power. 
 
 Dew, Fr. Dieu. 
 
 Ding, for " digne," digni- 
 fied, or haughty. 
 
 'Dile, compose ; write. From 
 Lat. "dictum." 
 
 Disport, comfort and plea- 
 sure. 
 
 Doucely, agreeably: Fr. 
 "doux." 
 
 Dourness, obstinacy : Fr. 
 "dur." 
 
 Dovering, dozing. 
 
 Di-ie, endure. 
 
 Drumlie, turbid. 
 
 Dune, done. 
 
 Dyke, a wall; (originally) a 
 bank thrown up by 
 "digging." A dike in 
 England is a trench. 
 
 Ear 1 , early. 
 Ee, eye. 
 
 Fain, fond, delighted; 
 "fegen " = glad. 
 
 Fa'in, falling. 
 
 Fash, to trouble. 
 
 Fasherie, trouble. 
 
 Fashions, troublesome; from 
 Fr. "facher," to bother. 
 
 Fauld, fold, enclosure, gar- 
 den. 
 
 Fause, false : Fr. "faux." 
 
 'Fend, defend. 
 
 Flingin'-tree, flail.
 
 n6 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Flure-head, floor-top or area. 
 Flyting, scolding. 
 Fool, fowl. 
 
 Fore-nenst, over-against. 
 Forfonghen, exhausted with 
 toil; "for" is intensive. 
 Forrat, forward. 
 
 Gade, went. 
 Gal/ace, gallows. 
 Gang, walk. 
 Gang-there-oot, vagrant. 
 Gar, make, compel. 
 Gawin\ galling: "galler," 
 
 Old French. 
 Gear, property. 
 Gey, pretty ; "gey weel " = 
 
 "pretty well." 
 Gifox Gin, if. 
 Glower, look staringly. 
 Gowff, golf. "Kolf," Dutch 
 
 for a club. 
 Greet, weep; "gretan." 
 
 Haill, whole. 
 
 Hallan, hall-end; wall of 
 
 public room, screening 
 
 the doorway. 
 
 Hantle, a good quantity. 
 
 Haud, hold. 
 
 Hear stane, hearth-stone. 
 
 Hed, had. 
 
 Hiech, high. 
 
 Hinged brigs, drawbridges. 
 
 Hoast, cough. 
 
 Hoc/is, hocks or the back of 
 the knee-joints. 
 
 Howff, place of familiar re- 
 sort ; haven. 
 
 Howp, hope. 
 
 Huswifeskep, housewifeship ; 
 household affairs. 
 
 Ilka, each. 
 Tse, I shall. 
 Ither, other. 
 
 Jethart, Jedburgh. 
 Jinkin\ dodging, slipping. 
 John, Joan. 
 
 Kenna, know not. 
 Kepit, protected. 
 Kintra, country.
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 117 
 
 Lafl, loft. 
 
 Laidly, loathsome. 
 
 Lauch, laugh. 
 
 Lave, left, the rest. 
 
 Lay, lea. 
 
 Leal, loyal. 
 
 Lest, last, endure. 
 
 Lig, lie; "licgan." 
 
 Limmer, a dissolute female. 
 
 Lintie, linnet. 
 
 Loot, let, let escape. 
 
 Lo'esome, lovely. 
 
 Loup, leap. 
 
 Lout, stoop ; from " lutan." 
 
 Lowsed, loosed. 
 
 Lug, ear. 
 
 Lum, chimney (corner). 
 
 Maen, moan, to lament (for). 
 
 Maist, most. 
 
 Mak\ make, compose ; cp. 
 
 " poiein," Greek. 
 Makar, poet. 
 Marrow, mate ; from 
 
 "marry." 
 Mell, meddle, mix ; from 
 
 "mesler,"01dFr. 
 
 Mense, discretion. 
 
 Mirk, murk, darkness. 
 
 Mull, mule. 
 
 Mutch, a woman's white cap. 
 
 Mutchkin, a pint. 
 
 Nar'd, near it. 
 Naysay, denial. 
 Near-be-gaun, illiberal. 
 Nether = an adder ; " nse- 
 
 dre," a snake. 
 Nice, careful of trifles. 
 Nippit, parsimonious. 
 
 O'ercoine, surplus. 
 
 Orra, extra. 
 
 Owre, over. 
 
 Pech, groan, sigh. 
 
 Pend, hung roof or archway; 
 "pendre," French. 
 
 Pens, feathers, wings. 
 
 Plack, a small coin, -jd. 
 Scots ! 
 
 Popinjay, parrot; (literally) 
 a chattering cock, — 
 which is also the literal 
 meaning of ' ' babbly- 
 jock."
 
 n8 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Quean, young woman ; 
 "cwen." 
 
 Rane, murmur monoton- 
 ously ; "run," a whis- 
 per. "Roun," or 
 "round" in Middle 
 English. 
 
 Rede, counsel; "rsed," ad- 
 vice. 
 
 Rent, income. Fr. " rente"; 
 from " reddere," Lat. 
 
 Rins, runs. 
 
 Rookit, left destitute. 
 
 Roums, landed property, or 
 income therefrom. 
 
 Sair, sore. 
 
 Sark, shirt. 
 
 Scaith, scathe, injury ; 
 
 "scatha." 
 Scart, scratch ; a miser. 
 Scaur d, scared, frightened. 
 'Sey, essay, try. 
 Shae, shoe. 
 
 Shaw, show; plantation. 
 Sichin, sighing. 
 
 Siller, silver ; money. 
 Skail, scatter, spill. 
 Skirlin', screeching. 
 Sleekit, plump and glossy. 
 Snap (o' cauld), blizzard. 
 Some-deal, somewhat. 
 Sorn, live meanly at another's 
 
 expense. 
 Soums, sums (of money). 
 Sowpin', imbibing, sipping; 
 
 " siipan." 
 Souple, supple. 
 Speir, ask. 
 Slangs, stings. 
 Stank, fosse; stagnating 
 
 water in a ditch. 
 Stechy, stiff and heavy. 
 Steekit, shut. 
 St. Julian, the patron-saint 
 
 of travellers; hospitality. 
 Stock and rent, property and 
 
 income. 
 Stoiter, stagger. 
 Stoopit, stooped, bent. 
 Stotted, stumbled; bounded 
 
 and rolled. 
 Stour, dust ; battle.
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 II 9 
 
 Spulzie, spoil, plunder. 
 Swank, tall and agile. 
 Swick, cheat. " Swic," 
 
 deceit. 
 Swink, toil ; " swincan." 
 Smith, quickly, immediately; 
 
 " swithe." 
 Syne, ago ; then. 
 
 Tack, lease, possession. 
 
 Tae, toe. 
 
 Taft, messuage, farmhouse. 
 
 Tass, cup. 
 
 Tkereanent, about or with 
 
 it. 
 Thir, these ; Thae, those. 
 Tholirt, tolerating, bearing. 
 Thoums, thumbs. 
 Thrang, company. 
 Thrawart, contrary. 
 Tint, lost; tyne, lose. 
 Toun, farmstead; town. 
 Towbooth or tolbooth, jail. 
 Towls, toils. 
 Trance, passage: Lat. 
 
 " trans." 
 
 Tryst, engagement. 
 
 Trap, ladder ; hatch. 
 "Trappa," a stair, is 
 the Swedish original. 
 
 Turned or toomed, emptied. 
 
 Tyke, dog. 
 
 Unquit, unrequited. 
 
 Wair'd, spent. 
 
 Wale, select. 
 
 Wan, won. 
 
 Wander, pilgrimage. 
 
 War, were. 
 
 War?-and, warrant; "gar- 
 
 antir," Old French. 
 Wa's, ways ; walls. 
 Wat, wit, know; "witan." 
 Wauk, waken ; lie awake ; 
 
 "wacian." 
 Weebie, ragwort. 
 Weirs, wars. 
 
 Whaup, curlew ; imitative. 
 Whummle, fall heavily by 
 
 overbalancing ; tumble 
 
 heels o'er head.
 
 120 
 
 Wir, our; from "we." 
 Wite, blame; "wite," 
 
 punishment. 
 Wad, mad ; eager. ' • Wod ' ' 
 = mad in Old Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Wuss, wish. 
 
 Yarrow, milfoil ; in German, 
 
 "garbe." 
 Yett, gate. 
 Yule, Christmastide. 
 
 Note. — The English reader will please to observe that 
 words which are not eye- may yet be perfect ear-rhymes in 
 the Scottish language; thus (v. p. 31) the words "fear," 
 "puir," "gear," and "sure" are perfect rhymes, to be pro- 
 nounced like the French "fleur." 
 
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