bOZB A A : 3 ! 6 \ 9 I 9 I 1 I 9 \ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES PRIDE O' RAPLOCH PRIDE O' RAPLOCH AND OTHER POEMS BY DAN McKENZIE LONDON ELKIN MATHEWS, CORK STREET MCMXX TO MY MOTHER /v\ \ '^ !£■ a f CONTENTS PAGE Offertory ...... 7 Pride o' Raploch 11 Kennedy's Jock . 51 The High Street, Edinburgh 55 Triste Marie 56 Fair Janet 59 The Hawthorn Tree 61 The Rant of Eleezabeth Auchterloni E 63 865848 OFFERTORY The Pilgrimage Tears and a kiss are thine, BURNS, great and sad. These leave we at thy shrine, Grieving, but glad; — Glad for the fiery word, Swift as a dart, Keen as a two-edged sword To find the heart ; — Glad for the utter truth Fearlessly flung, By one who — yea ! in sooth Spake in God's tongue. Levin bolt — Heaven bolt Cleaves the dark night Flaming the sombre holt Momently light. Thunder-bolt — wonder-bolt Clears the dull brain. Turning the sorry dolt Momently sane. Starshine the restless tide Far flickers o'er, Failing that fickle guide Quicksands are shore ! Sprout of a miry place, Stye-fed the flower. Wearing its robe of grace One little hour. Sprout trampled underfoot, Bloom but a stain, Flung on a rubbish shoot Of rank disdain. Time, place and chance awry. Hopeless his lot, Whose fame the good decry, Damning him, sot. Tears, then, we owe — and pay This broken heart. Vainly deplore his day. And so depart. But first with wild-rose bloom Where dew-tears hover, Deck we the sacred tomb Of a great lover. PRIDE O' RAPLOCH The scene is laid in Lanarkshire, but the tale has no connection whatever with the modern owners of the Raploch Estate, as it is based upon old Ayrshire gossip. Pride o* Raploch I When the saughs wade deep in water, and the nimmle leaves the mill, When firs are booin' gentry on the knowe forenent the hill. When dykes are wearin' thin awa', an' doon the stony brae The burn in spate gangs loupin', whaur in summer bairnies play. Ah ! then ! Across my misty een the laird I plain can see, — Young Raploch on his muckle mear that garred the flinders flee On the hard roads o' Lanerick, when I was young an' free. Ha'e patience an' I'll tell ye, lad, but ye maun tak' an aith Ne'er tae let on 'twas me that clyped this clash o' sin an' death, For it concerns yer feyther, lad, an' her he stole awa' — Yer mither — f'ae her but-an'-ben tae serve him in his Ha' Whaur 'mong the silk an' satin gear the lassock made her place, 11 Syne takin' late the needfu' gate tae win tae kirk an' grace, Tholin' the price she had to pay in Raploch's pride o' race. For he was laird o' Birkenshaw, but, and o' Raploch fair, Sae high his line, his lineage fine was auld as Tintock there. They say the first o' a' that ilk was kent afore the Bruce, Rearin' in Malcolm Canmore's time the bourtree o' his hoose. An' syn' 'twas laid their tree has spread an' mony a bloom has borne But never ane that grew sae fair or was sae free f'ae thorn As him that was yer feyther, lad, an' met a death forlorn. He was a strappin', steerin' cuif, an' cock't his horn wi' pride, Wi' e'en tae grup an' doon a foe — tae smile an' win a bride. An' yet tae hear his roarin' lauch as he rade doon the glen Wad gar the very meenister forget his latter en' ! He had an unco w'y wi' him that snared an' drew us a'. The men would quit their curlin', the laddies drap their ba' Tae listen tae his cheery wit giff-gaffin' great an' sma'. 12 Yet he was stately, an' his mien sae like a soople tree That ilka lass on braid Clydeside wad ta'en him willin'lie. Some did ! For faith he gi'ed an' took as seemed best tae himsel', Mair than the lave, an' yet, Guid kens, hoo fain they are an' fell, Young burly chiels when blude rins hie, an' lassocks be na sweir, But Lod ! Ye ken, the warl wags on an' winna mak' a steer For pickydillies sic as thae, that's scarcely worth a tear ! But there ! The greatest leddies'-love that ever lo'ed an' ran, — The Chevalier, or Murray dear, or ither Don Juan, He by an' bye a dooncome gets, an' better sune nor late. For whan the lesson's slow tae come, it's harder til abate. A bairn will fa' an' fa' again, he's lemin' aye tae gang. But when a douce aul' bailie draps, losh ! but he comes a bang. An' a' his pain an' dear distress mak' up an unco sang. Hear what befell ! — Ae summer evenin' still Was Raploch mounted, raxin' doon the hill. — He was a fearless rider an' wad take Bee-line for hame whate'er that line micht rake. Moss-hag or dry stane-dyke or roarin' linn — He'd rue't as muckle as he rued his sin, 13 Wi' scarce a thocht ! — An' sae this evenin' fair Efter a day tod-huntin' owre the muir. He faced his mear the yett — it's no' that hie, That ends the Lover's Loan, an' easilie Mair like a deer than horse she loup't — when Lod ! Jist as she rose below her breist there stood A lassie slim; — the road here fa's away. An' she was daun'rin' i' the gloamin' grey Tae meet — her death ; only the rider tore His horse's bit an' slewed her roon afore Her shod feet struck. — An' so he saved the lass Frae certain death for what was bound tae pass, As yet unthocht o' — something broodin' great; But noo a tender bud on the dark tree o' Fate Dew-spangled; closed; but waitin' touch o' sun To warm it into leaf. — So 'twas begun. The nettled mear forbade a word that 'oor For she was roon and up the hill like stour; And as she clatterin' flew, flung divots high Was a' the lassock o' the pair could spy. Yet lang she lookit efter, bein' wae Tae think the laddie had been taigl't sae By her unchancy presence, an' forbye She wad ha' thankit him wi' tearfu' eye For 's clever horsemanship ; but ne'er a look Or gratefu' word could reach him as he took His swift road hame. — Yet that concourse at e'en Struck the wee spark that fired a magazine. Henceforth whene'er she saw him on his beast Her e'e gaed wi' him whether wast or east The woods an' braes alang. — So the seed sawn, And in the corner o' her bosom fa'n, 14 Sprouted an' spread until it filled the yaird And her bit craft held only this ae braird. As for the crap, whether 'twas weed or flo'er, Ye'll easy guess if ye but min' the so'er. — This sproutin' green was Raploch quick to see, Help't by the news that reach't him cannilie ; For there are aye clash-pyots tae reveal Wi' slippery tongue what lassies wad conceal F'ae a' the warl. — But losh ! it seems tae me, Thae things are hid f'ae nane that care tae see. Except f'ae her of wham there's ocht tae tell, An' folk a' 'gree tae hide her f'ae hersel'. Sae this ane jok't an' that ane wink't an e'e When Jean Gilroy's name cam' on the tapis, An' Raploch heard hoo hazel eyes were seen Keekin' tae watch him roon her window screen ; An' hoo, as often as he took the turn That led him by her door her face wad burn An' syne fa' white as snaw wi' hard-drawn breath Tae see him an' his mear face Hunter's Scathe, The high stane-dyke oot owre the Cadyow Ride Wi' Sleepin' Water on its 'tither side. So in sic simple ways it cam' aboot That Raploch thocht he'd won a new recruit For his fair reg'ment ; an' that bonnie Jean Was ripe for pu'in' ony 'oor at e'en. — The man was spiled, ye'll say, a pamper't bairn ; But wi' a lad sae douce wha could be stern ? Forbye, wha'd spiled him, an' wha aye will spile Sic bonnie men an' fill them fou o' guile ? Ye ken as weel as me for a' yer youth, Yer saft an' sappie cheek an' laddie's mouth ! 15 Gae 'wa' ! Nae havers ! I maun even on Gin I this clashmaclaver feenish maun. Let's see ! — What was I sayin' ? — Mphm ! Aye ! — Weel ! Raploch, fou o' wicked schemes an' sly Ae nicht whan fires were lowin' kinna low, Bethocht himsel' o' Jean, an' stepp't tip-toe Tae her bit hoose, lett'n on tae see her feyther — A j'iner him — aboot a do'ecot lether. He chappit at the door; it opened wide An' there she stood, the Lass, calm wi' the pride O' maiden dignity an' simple grace, A thing mair delicate and in its place As gentle and as fine as pride o' race. — Ha'e ye ever seen the lustre on the wings O' ane o' thae wee moths the gloamin' brings That scarce could thole a fairy's touch tae preen Its downy coat sae fine the silken sheen? — Ha'e ye ever watch't when waters fa' in spray, An instant rainbow bred by the love-play O' sun an' water, that a moment's quiver Will dull tae lifeless lead again for ever? — This Raploch saw — an' saw wi' e'en amazed. An' — for the first time in his life — confased. He stalled an' stammert, fechtin' for his tongue. But lost the roon — syne stude wi' heid doon hung ! As for the lass, her peety moved tae see The lad sae shy an' simple 'neath her e'e. At length in splutterin' haste his message cam' A spate o' words wherein his senses swam Half-chok'd ; that left him soundless as a drum A bairn has burst — and there he faced her, dumb. — The lassie, patient, rosy-flush'd an' mild As sunshine at the dawnin', look'd an' smiled, 16 Whereat his e'en spak', but the blusterin' splore Still steek't his mouth — an' so she steek't her door. When I was young things didna hing and wait For folk wad sclim' the wa's tae meet their fate. So Raploeh, overcome wi' love and shame Turned f'ae the road that wad ha' led him hame. Alang the daisied shaws he fled dementit; Hither and yon, an' up an' doon, he pantit — A collie drouthy on a simmer's day, Pechin' far want o' water 'mong the strae. — The sun slid doon, and in the tapmost sky Fair Luna smiled upon his lunacy ; An' f'ae the toun's laigh en' a cleekin' pair Cam' whisperin' oot tae smell the scentit air, Lown, saft, an' warm, like gentle breaths that steal Frae bonnie leddies' bosoms whan they feel The stouns o' secret love amid the glee O' common warls whaur secrets maunna be. A thoosan' thochts cam' thrangin' Raploeh through ; A thoosan' wishes spread their wings an' flew Like fluffy hoolets 'mang the twas and threes O' winkin' stars that watched him thro' the trees ; A thoosan' mem'ries, floatin' on the wind Like midges, prick't an' stang his tender mind, O' trials past in joys triumphant endin'. Whan velvet lips an' bosoms condescendin' He plunged tae cule his fever an' tae lave A bumin' broo in love's upswelling wave. But noo in angry tid his dark reproaches He turns upon himsel', an' shrugs an' ho aches 17 B Wi' bitter laughter — Him ! An expert han' ! Tae gape an' glow'r like ony Hielanman ! A glaikit gowk that ne'er a lass had seen — A thiek-heid boor — an oaf — a cabbage green ! — Till on his e'en there floats the image plain Sweet as the morn that ends a nicht o' pain, O' Jean, framed in her doorway, calmly smilin' — Her lips — her glintin' teeth — her e'en beguilin', Half-blate, half -bold, but wi' the sleepy look That means — Oh ! God ! an' here the gomeral shook ! — Raploch owre sune had pree'd o' Life's dark well And o' its deepmost waters, sprung in Hell. Like snaw the drink at first had culed his mouth, But noo, guid lack, it scaddit him — wi' Truth ! Kirk-bells were chappin', an' the 'oor was twa, When deep within the shade o' Gilroy's wa'j A deeper shadow stude ; an' look't ; an' f ained ; An' touched the hard stane wa'; an' sighed; an' mained ; Then, in a trem'le, struck a gentle tap Upon a window sma' as if by hap, A moment later, bauld, he tapp'd again. Syne winced tae hear it rattle loud an' plain. Then, Jean, f'ae dreams o' reckless horsemen, stirred. An' raised her heid tae hear the whisper'd word Of " Jean ! "—An' then again : " Oh Jean ! "—Her he'rt stopp't dead As if it tae wad hark til what was said. Then cam' another tap, and half in dreamin' The lassie rose, her dusky hair doon-streamin', 18 Her e'en wi' sleep an' wonderment bedazed, And opened her wee window wide an' gazed ; Upon the sill her leanin' han' she laid. — 'Twas caught, An' held, an' kissed. — She closer brought Her open shift aboot her hastilie And on the dusk o' munelicht strove tae see What gallant held her han', an' whase het lips Were signin' love upon her finger tips. She look't. — An' look't again. — Syne flush't and sighed As if to break a band her bosom tied. — Dreamin' o' kisses and a lover fleet She woke — tae see that lover at her feet. " But oh ! " she breathed, " Hooever could ye dare? What if some jealous watcher spied you there ? " " Jean, my beloved," stole his whisper near, " Gie me your lips, for oh ! the nicht was drear Wi' mirk afore my e'en an' broodin' fear." But still," she sighed, " What peril tae come through I Go ! I beseech you, for if ony you " " Ne'er heed for me ! The nicht is lown an' dark. The toun's a' sleepin', and its last wee spark Is lang sin' blotted oot. — Jean, come tae me ! Or let me come ! For like the ice-cauld sea Is a' my life, and empty is my he'rt Without you come tae me, tae me apairt F'ae a' the lave. — This love will be my death, If I maun dree an' dree wi' every breath." — " But what for baud me ? I mysel' wad dee. Dear Raploch, if I couldna gie, When love baith begs and urges. — If my love Is a' ye seek, ye're fulish lad tae rove 19 (( (( The toun sae late ! — Ye saw me but the day ! " — " Jean ! Jean ! I saw you Jean ! But couldna say, Sae speechless was I struck, sae numb an' faint. At sight o' you. But noo that ill complaint Is fled for ever, and my love I pour In at your window, dear, but wad gie more. Come ! Come ! tae me, sweet rosebud o' the night An' make my heaven wi' fragrance an' delight ! " — " Hoo can I come, dear lad ? " '* The nicht's a' shade, Slip f'ae the door, for deep in slumber laid Is the wide warl I " " Nay, boy, I canna leave; 'Twad rouse the ithers an' my he'rt wad grieve Tae bring thee sorrow and a reckonin' sore F'ae feyther an' the neibours roon the door. And are ye shure ye'd like me nearer you ? " — " What ! Am I shure ? Do daisies like the dew Whan they are parcht ? I canna breathe for fire. Nor eat — nor sleep — sae fierce is my desire ! — " Raploch ! I hear them steerin' I Quick — my han' — Let go ! — I canna leave it wi' thee, man. — Dear man ! — Gude nicht — Or rayther, dear — gude mornin' ! But oh ! when daylicht comes hoo I'll be scornin' This silly madness sweet ! " *' Nay ! By the lowe That lichts the hill-taps blae, I'll never go ! " *' Laddie, I hear them movin' !" — "Quick ! Your lips ! My love ! my life ! "— " Nay, but "— " Sweet breath that slips Atween thae roses red, breathe aye on me ! " — " There now, an' go 1 — Laddie ! You make too free ! " 20 The window closed, an' tho' he tapp't again An' louder tapp't, this time it was in vain. He sighed; but smiled wi' happiness, an' went, Half-sad ; half-mad ; but fou o' love's content And humbled tae his knees in wonderment. Ha'e ye Avon ever seen in heavy flood. Its spate dark brimmin' wi' the country's blood ? Level frae bank tae brae the movin' thrang O' swirlin' waters solid slide alang. The boulders big yestreen that ruled its streamin' Are buried deep below an ocean teemin'. And noo nae mair its shallows sing an' purl. For a' is smothered whaur sic surges hurl Sae swift an' smooth. — Deep waters waters follow Till what was once the linn, is but a dimpled hollow. Sae silent, headlong, glides the lovers' force An' kens nae obstacle in its set course. — The next day efter Raploch's serenade Was Cadyow Fair Day, when the Toun Parade An' Yeomanry Review left him nae pause ; While Jean wi' busy needle wrocht her braws In readiness for that nicht's yearly ball. For 'twas her first appearance in the hall 'Mong youthfu' dancers, fou o' glee an' mirth, An' 'twas her last — as Death whiles waits on Birth. — In rose-bud muslin, saft an' dewy-fresh. She joined the dancers when they wove their mesh ; An' drappin' on her f'ae his eagle's fell. The laird made pounce and took her tae himsel'. They poised an' hovered ; swooped an' soared the- gither. An' never heard the sough that stole throughither, 21 Among the lads and lasses slily watchin', An' getherin' eggs for gossip-mongers' hatchin', Nae ither lad got word wi' Jean that nicht; Nae ither lass o' Raploch had a sicht. The hale Assembly was ae man for Jean, An' Raploch's warl was deep in her dark e'en. What was their talk ? — Ah ! That I canna tell I never h'ard — I wasna there mysel'. But this I ken, that when the 'oor o' twa Struck f'ae the kirk, a keekin' lassock saw The pair slip canny oot, an' sune the causied street Rang wi' the clatter o' a horse's feet. Swart' Hecate tosses her shapely held, An' dances an' prances an' paws i' the air, For the waitin' is by and the cry is for speed And for hame thro' the mists o' the momin' fair. She feels the grup o' the rider's knee. An' whisks her tail in a stir. Agog for the word tae set her free An' the trigger-touch o' the spur. But a hint on the rine f'ae a han' that counts Her restless fute restrains. Till a second rider the saiddle mounts An' its creakin' leather complains. A second rider ! — Wi' caper an' bound She at the insult reels, An' the wa's o' the sleepin' square resound Tae the skelp o' her iron heels. 22 An' then like the win' f'ae an open lea She's aff wi' breenge and clatter, An' the sparkin' chuckies whung an' flee Against auld Gilroy's shutter. She's through the port at the heid o' the toun And owre auld Avon Brig, Ore her rackety gallop settles doon Tae the trot on the Mason's Rig. But she nichers an' canters wi' flourishin' tail On the breist o' Fernie Brae, An' glints an e'e on the mill-race pale That's white wi' the comin' day. The twa on her back seem less than ane Sae close are they huddled thegither; Tho' grave may be their wecht o' sin They're licht the noo as a feather. The Hie Parks bring the beds o' ling, Her feet fa' saft as 'oo' ; But what is that lowse flappin' thing That flits the bracken through? She's by a' carin' ! — The hill's that steep That leads to Cadyow Ride. An' the twa i' the saiddle maun be asleep. For she's lost the feel o' the guide. But she kens by the tricklin' drap on wame The sweit frae her coat is dreipin'. So she tak's the nearest road for hame, By weel-kent by-ways creepin'. 23 Her riders' tbochts maun be far awa', For never a word they speak. An' never an inch they jee ava, On croup or saiddle peak. Into the yaird at last she strides Wi' doon-hung heid, a' standin', Souple an' saft f'ae the saiddle slides Ae rider, nimble landin'. The ither rider, white an' slim, Is helpit canny doon ; And the mear, at feelin' her saiddle tume, Turns her heid richt roon. But grey as ghosts they fade an' fail Wi' a bang o' the big Ha' door; And Hecate, left tae mind hersel'. Whinnies lang an' sore. Until a sleep-drunk ostler hears. Comes, tak's her by the heid, An' soothes her feelin's and her fears Wi' water and a feed. And as he beds the bonnie mear An' f other tae her brings. Ye can catch eenoo if ye're shairp i' the ear Hoo he croons tae himsel' an' sings : " The deep o' the dark is shoalin' tae grey As helter-skelter doon the brae, Passin' the kirk-door open wide, A deevil's mear wi' a skelp in her stride Is dingin' on i' the dawin'. 24 She cairries a strange and a peetifu' load, A pair that ha'e left the King's high road Tae shorten the roon-aboot length o' the bend Though short-cuts thro' are lang i' the end, An' fashous forbye i' the goin'. She loups the Law, its hedge's owre ; She teirs thro' thorns i' the Leman's bower; She spiels the knowe whaur Marie fell, And jawps the water o' Jezebel, In haste for the waddin' — or haudin'. Bonnie the bride, but whaur's her test, Bonnie the goon, but whaur's the kist, Bonnie the han', but whaur's the ring. Sweet is the honey, and as for the sting, Ye '11 taste it ma do'e, i' the efter-goo, Ye '11 taste it ma do'e i' the mornin'. In at the door. Tak' up yer load. On wi' yer brattie and aff wi' yer snood. Doon on yer knees tae the man yer god. And learn the sab o' the huntit tod. When the horns peal oot for scornin'." II Auld Tam Gilroy, Jean's feyther, dacent man. Though sair provokit, patient held his han'. He had been tellt betimes what had occurred But answered the newsbringers not a word; 25 Nor did he steer a fute or lift a pen Tae bring, by word or deed, Jean til amen'. Until a heavy week had wam'led by Without the dochter ever lookin' nigh Her feyther's hoose an' hame. — It's true she wrote A line or twa that took him by the throat Sae gently kind it was, an' yet sae fixt Tae thole nae interference e'er betwixt Her and her lot. — She had nae wants it seemed. Unless that she — it wad be high esteemed — Micht see her feyther. — But he'd h'ard nae mail. So ae nicht, efter lowsin', booed wi' care. He took the do'ecot lether 'neath his arm The laird had ordered in his shy alarm, An' slowly warsled up stey Braeheid knowe That leads tae Raploch by the quarry howe. — The road is but a sheep-track, gey an' ruch, Wi' rubble, chuckie-stanes, an' bracken teuch. The nicht was close, an' sune the frail aul' man Was forced tae rest a wee his broo tae fan. And as he paused amang a wheen laigh bushes, Whaur blue-bells an' wood sorrel flourished luscious, He glinted something steerin' i' the wood. And there an' then his Jean before him stood. " A fine nicht, Jean ! " — was a' the feyther said, " It is that," quo' the lassock, glowing red. And nae mair passed atween them for a space In silence shunning each the ither's face. " What is't ye're cairryin' .? " at last she cried; *' It's juist the do'ecot lether," he replied, Sighin' a wee — an' maybe 'twas the graith Had tried him some an' stown awa' his breath, 26 — " The do'ecot lether, trystit at the door, A fortnicht Tuesday; juist the day afore Ye left us Jean." " Ye'd better gie't tae me," The lassie hasty cried, wi' dooncast e'e. " I'll tak' it up for ye ; it's steep the hill. Hoo are ye keepin' } " " Thank ye ! No that ill. Yersel' ? " " Aye ! Brawly ! " " Were ye comin' doon ? " " No ! I'm for up. I only cam' my goon Tae gie't an airin'." " Aye ! It's new an' braw " — He stopped to clear his throat an' turned awa', P'intin' wi' shaky finger at a clearin' Amang the trees ; then closer in her hearin', " Doon there," he smiled, " When I was coortin' Jean, I used tae meet yer Mither late at e'en. She was a hoosemaid up at the big Ha'. — It seems like yesterday. But she's awa', An' noo, so is Jean ! — Ha'e ye gotten a' ye want Like claes an' that? — I wadna ha'e ye scant." " I thank ye, feyther ! " — Tears were drappin' noo Frae 'er hidden face — " Ye ken, I dinna rue ! " " I'm gled tae hear't. But if there cam' a break, The door doon by — it'll aye be aff the sneck. Juist gie't a shove. — Ye wadna care eenoo ? " He haltit, an' the quastion seemed tae pu' Their he'rts in sunder. " No ! I couldna, feyther ! — " Aweel ! I scarce could look for't athegither. Has . . . Ha'e ye . . ." " What is't? " " Ha'e ye gotten yet yer lines ? " " No yet." " A peety ! Still ... are there nae signs ? Ye canna aye be tellin' what may be." — '* I daurna say ; sic things are no' for me. 27 5J I mauna ask what isna fit an' richt." — " What isna fit may be. — It's a' that's richt !" *' I wuss I thocht sae." " Weel 1 my lass, gude nicht ! " Sae he made aff, doonbrae this time, wi' granes An' grumbles for the trundlin' treacherous stanes. Low 'mong the bracken mourned the lass her feyther, An' lad ! They baith forgot the trystit lether ; An' whaur it drappit it got leave to lie. For Raploch's do'ecot-herryin' days were by. Ill The Spring-time matin' owre an' by, the green yirth settles doon, Tae win frae Simmer's fillin' days the Autumn's stock o' boon. The waddin' gew-gaws laid aside, the new an' young unseen Are workin' on by nicht an' day tae reach their end serene, In changes never-ceasin', for though the days seem slaw, Yet ilka leaf it differs noo frae onything we saw When first the shilpit April buds poked oot their fingers sma'. In Craigbank Braes last Februar I saw a great land- slide, When tons o' yirth an' stanes an' trees broke frae the Avonside. 28 The doonfa' was sae suddent that in her forme a hare Sleepin' amaiig the rashes was buried wi' her lair. But though sae in a moment like, the break had wrocht but slaw Through years o' rain an' rendin' frost an' sweepin' seepin' snaw, Afore the foonds were undercut an' ready for the fa'. The he'rt o' things is maskin' deep in a brewer's vat, Whaur mixters strange o' barm an' grains are steepin' in the pat Sae still an' calm — sae stagnant — ye'd sweir the brew was deid, But for the bells that noo an' then curl up like strings o' bead. Till efter weary waitin', suddent there is a change When stuff aince fushionless an' flat is strong become and strange, That can, like faith, move mountains an' michty men derange. Like gentle sangs by bonnie singers sung. Like hauf-heard bells in distant belfries rung. Like simmer' airs that only sunshine blaw The days slipp't easy on at Raploch Ha.' The stranger lass, intrudin', won her place Whilk was, ore lang, indeed, tae lead the trace. For though but little schooled she yet had pairts That brocht tae her acceptance frae sic airts As ye wad scarce believe. — The folk rebelled At first, an' wad ha' left, but they were held For fear o' takin' steps they'd maybe rue And easy places like the Ha' are few. 29 Forbye there wa* auld Ailie, Raploch's nurse, An' trustit housewife, keeper o' the purse, — Ailie was carefu' an', without a lee, She never saw a thing she sudna see, — A gift tae them that ha'e 't worth muckle gowd. Though tae the lave a blinkin' or a cloud. Sae, when a move was on, because o' Jean Or, as the pyots ca'ed her " Raploch's quean," Auld Ailie the revolt faced firm and fairly An' stamped the startin' flames oot richt and early. This won for Jean a certain kind o' place Whilk she estaiblisht wi' judeecious grace Helpt by the sweetness o' a bonnie face, — And Ailie, when she fan' Jean worth her meat, As ane that ser'd the laird baith sune an' late. In coorse o' time withdrew hersel' — the mair As she was gettin' on in years, an' sair Wi' cripplin' aches an' pains — so that Jean came Tae mistress Raploch Ha' in a' but name. Na ! As time slippit by she skilly grew Until she managed a' an' followed through Its ins and oots, the business o' the hoose, Contrivin' baith for comfort an' for use. — Here was a turn that maist astonied a' Wha e'er were interestit in the Ha', That this puir lassock, wha, forbye her beauty Had naething till her but her meed o' duty. Should see an' cairry oot the very best Without or claim or houp, an' yet wi' zest That was gey strange ! — But what was stranger still Was that she Raploch drew f'ae that dark mill Whaur careless riotin' flung in as grain Is ground tae meal o' bitterness an' pain. 30 I' this fair lass at hame wha cam' an' gaed Wi' douce demeanour, sober, gentle, staid, Wha thocht aye for the Laird tae pit him first Yet never ettled ocht, nor showed a thirst For gowd nor yet for gear, he'd truly won A flo'er o' worth an' bounty 'neath the sun. Knit tae her maister by the strongest chain A woman ever tholes — she was his ain. An' yet, he kent fu' weel, did e'er he wuss Tae mak' a change o' plan, a fareweel kiss Wad see the end, an' she wad go as meek As she had come, an' never wages seek, Nor yet o' consolation ever speak. Sae noo — ye'll no believe it ! — Raploch wrocht Hard to reform his life ; and wisdom socht. Nae mair by nicht his mear an' he rapp't through The sleepin' touns tae land him hame half fou ; Nae mair the deevil's cantrips did he play, And lend his youth an' talents to display O' boorish fun an' frolic up an' doon The countryside, like some daft, graceless loon That fills his days wi' sleep, his nichts wi' babble And hobs an' nobs wi' ony kin' o' rabble ; Nae mair did he meet trulls in public places And wi' their skirlin' add to his disgraces. — The man was changed, an' this Jean had effeckit, She'd saved a bonnie ship that near was wreckit. Jean was contentit wi' his hame and love, Raploch was settled i' the faimily groove. — Hoo lang this micht ha' lastit, Gudeness kens — But last it didna ; — happiness sune ends I' this dark grievin' hell they ca' the Earth Whaur pain an' grief control us frae our birth, 31 Through easy times or hard; Fate isna sleepin', An' they that start wi' sin, maun end wi' weepin'. 'Twas in the fore-end o' the year, when days Are ereepin' oot frae winter's narrow ways. That the great hoose o' Raploch got the shake And a' but levelled was in dire earthquake, Like what gangs by when careless miners draw Wood f ae the workin's an' the roofs let fa'. And hidden forces wi' their rivin' po'er Rack a fair toun tae ruins in an 'oor. — The time was midnicht an' the place a room Close to the slates in Raploch Ha', whaur gloom Seemed f'ae the flick'rin' candle dim tae flow Rayther than licht, sae blae its glim an' low. A risin' storm the windows rattled hard Till every bolt an' fast'nin' shook an' jarred; And wi' ilk' blast a wearie, eerie hoo Swep' roon the lums an' birled rafters through. By the fire-cheek a bodie, auld an' dune, Sat cowerin' f'ae the anger o' the win'. As if its sabbin' sough was punishment for sin. She was the howdie-wife, for on the bed A lane and sufferin' lassie low was laid. Close grup't by pain an' fear that stoun'd an' stang An' held her meanin' there the hale nicht lang. Ah ! Ne'er is woman in her helplessness Sae bare, as whan between the strain an' stress O' bitter travail she maun thole an' wait Wi' nocht o' shelter f'ae a lawfu' mate. — Upon the turret stairs outside the door Hung Raploch, listenin' to the tricklin' pour 32 O' smothered groans that raxed oot thro' the dark An' shook his nerve tae shivers as his wark He close regairded. Lang, cauld 'oors he dree'd Araang the stanes an' stour an' saw unseree'd His life ; its love an' passion flung aside While Jean, wi' he'rt-deep sufferin' for it p'id. There i' the mirk between storm-gusts he faced An ever-mountin' debt upon him placed, A deep doon-beirin' debt that hard was thrust Upon his shouthers by thae Beings just That oor wee pokes o' sweeties fill an' weigh Wi' balanced evenness that disna swee Yae grain ayont the scale, nor yin ablow : — At least we're constant tellt that this is so. It may be, but, whatever w'y ye tak' it, The sweets, a' told, mak' but a little packet. Sae mused the lad as through the steekit door The sorry meanin' fan' his ear an' tore The showman-mask f'ae life tae leave a' bare. The ugly truth — the lassie sooin' there ! The uglier truth — himsel' upon that stair ! An' sae the weary 'oors crep' sluggish on Wi' heavy fute, until aboot the dawn There cam' a burst when a' the warl' seemed lost An' him as helpless as a driven ghost That tries and tries in vain tae rend the sheet Between it an' the warl' it strains tae meet; Between it an' the freen it strives tae greet; Between it an' the foe it coulu defeat. At last abune the tumult rase a soun' That dagger-like struck through him wi' its stoun, *" A shiverin' waefu' cry that shrilled the air Aboot his ears tae something new an' rare. 33 c Then the door opened and a hasty word Flung at him : " It's a laddie ! " — But he heard Only the meanin', and again thae cries Tae overload his he'rt wi' dull surprise An' loomin' fears o' pains an' near-han' penalties. It's a braw, braw day for the daffin' o't, A braw, braw day for the chaffin' o't ! It's a wyse-like day for them that play An' kick their heels wi' the raffin' o't ! We're a' tae jee wi' thinkin' o't ! We're faur owre slee wi' slinkin' o't ! Hing oot yer flags an' gleefu' rags, We're oot for joy an' the jinkin' o't ! The win' has blawn the stour awa', The sun has stown the sho'er awa'. The muckle de'il's ta'en tae his heels An' skippt owre Tintocktoorie O ! O ! We're a' sae mad an' merry O 1 We'll a' wae thinkin' bury O ! Oor Jean has won a muckle son. As roon an' red's a cherry O ! We'll wat his heid tae droukin' O ! We'll drink his health tae rookin' O ! If ye refase tae toast his taes We'll doon ye wi' a doukin' O ! We're a' soakin' sappy O ! We're unco hie an' happy O ! Wi' Athole brose we'll pent yer nose Syne droon ye i' the nappy O 1 34 IV Like an ill dream that midnight wi' its pain Passed, and the sunshine flushed the Ha' again. And a' the ord'nar turns o' every day Aboot the hoose took on their orra way. Ev'n Jean, puir lassie, frae her bed, noo shared Wi' someone else, time frae her new wark spared Tae see that meat was got an' set for him Whose will had laid on her this trial grim. Syne when the momin's reddin'-up was past Raploeh won entry tae her side at last, An' filled wi' pride an' joy tae see his Jean As fresh an' simple as there ne'er had been That he'rt-wring in the nicht, he on his knees, By her bedside sank doon, and a' the pleas O' love's contrition offered her tae sue And win her pardon for what she'd come through. The lassie smiled forgiveness on her man An' naething said, but took his heavy han' An' laid it open on the roon warm head O' the wee thing within her oxter laid ; " Yer son ! " she whispered. — Did the angels hear? For quick 'twas followed by an angel's tear That trickled doonward frae her e'e to fa' Upon the hand that held the livin' ba'. *' My son ! " — he stammer 'd back, and in the glow O' pridefu' love that flush'd him through an' through, *' Your son and mine, by God ! And I will make him so!" Hush-a-bye, my bonnie do'e Close yer e'en o' sunny blue. On a warl' that's big by you. 85 Sleep ye soun' my hinny sweet, Wee, wee han's an' shiny feet. Rosy cheeks an' chin complete. Fair as lily on the stalk, Fair as fern-leaf on the oak. Fairest o' the fairy folk, Easy-osy, swing an' swee,, Hinny's cradle minnie's knee, Sleep awa' an' let a' be. Whan thae feet can race an' rin. They will chase the muckle mune. Great things that will come owre sune. But, ye're a' my ain eenoo. My wee wean o' downy 'oo', A' my ain tae lea' or lo'e. Never is mortal man sae near divine ; Never wi' sic pure glory does he shine. As when, in confident and easy power He rises f'ae the tomb o' self tae tower On Resolution's wings to Heav'n's high peaks Whaur in Eternity he stands an' speaks ! — O blest is he, whase wings can him upbeir Owre a' the heighs and howes that interfere Wi' weaker folk that wantin' strength sae fleet Maun e'en content them wi' their shauchlin' feet ! 36 But tho' thae stronger craturs whiles we see, Yet folk are maistly juist like you an' me That tak' a Resolution noo an' than An' bring it til a feenish — if they can. ^ — Ye've shurely seen a common dish o' delf Het i' the potter's kiln upon a shelf, Wi' sic pure brilliance does it shine an' bleeze That, I declare, it a' but gars ye sneeze Tae look at it ! — Yet when the fires doon set Owre sune its glory dulls — it's juist a flet. Aweel ! Atween the less an' greater o' thae twa Are folk that whan the clockin' dees awa' Will natheless abide by their resolve For a' the cost that will on them devolve. Sae Raploch, faced wi' need o' restitution, Took on the hie an' valiant Resolution, A' in a flash, tae wife his leman Jean, An' sae legeetimise her new-born wean — As could be dune wi' little steer ava, Accordin' tae oor mercifu' Scots Law — An' havin' ta'en't he bude tae cairry't through. Or stan' forever faithless and untrue. But this great tide met tempest, juist as great. In his rale pride o' birth an' high estate. For deep below his rantin' roarin' w'ys A well-spring pure o' haughtiness took rise And wi' consistent flow it did emerge Whan wi' the sinkin' o' the casual surge The even springs that feed th' eternal stream Did owre clean polish'd pebbles run agleam. Ye see the lad was by his promise tied A' in a moment tae a blemisht bride, 37 Wha'd kilted up her coats an' ta'en the road Like ony tinker's Jenny at his nod. And this saft-hertit lass f'ae doon the raw Was tae be mistress made o' Raploch Ha' Tae fill the gracious place o' his deid mother A Leddyskip in her ain richt o' Nether Struther, Whase kith an' kin wad never tak' his word That Jean in worth an' wit was that rare bird An eagle f'ae a cavie — but wi' wink An' tongue in cheek wad cause her name tae stink. Then hoo could this bit bairnie tak' a place Beside, still less abune the others o' his race, When he an ugly name wad beir, an' base ? — Forbye, he aince had h'ard, what noo returned Fou o' a meanin' ne'er afore discerned That if a laird like him e'er wedded shor'-goon The wife he took was warstit i' the baurgain. For a' that, his exemplar micht still prove A man could gen'rous be, an' dae't for love. But even then nane but a vulgar rake Wad loot sae low a licht-o'-love tae take. An' so whatever turn his fancy took Showed nae w'y oot — his straucht had turned a crook. The fau't was when he brocht the lassock hame, Makin' her wedded wife in a' but name ; — In a' but name ! — But still a differ great ! Noo they could tyne, but then they maun await Till Death the great divorcer ga'ed decree. An' did the life-lang contrack nullifie. — But yet for a', he'd sail nae ither tack. Be what she micht, there was nae beatin' back ; His pride, high ae w'y, was as high the ither An' wadna yield an inch, e'en for a Mither. Na ! Sae resolvt he was, he ne'er let fa' A word tae ony, tae Jean least of a', Whatna debate was on, for weel he kent If she jaloused, his efforts wad be spent In vain, for she wad gi'e her a', Aye ! Ev'n her bairn, tae shield him f'ae a flaw O' the ruch win', let 'lane a dooncome great For him an' for his hoose an' hie estate. But for the bairn she never wad ha' 'greed Sae fou was she o' love an' love's high creed. — And here a stab o' pain ran thro' his he'rt. He lo'ed the lass ; — he eouldna f'ae her pairt, Sae deep did a' his feelin's wi' hers tether, Sae close were twined their he'rts an' minds thegither ; He eouldna thole a day if she did gang, And as it was she ne'er wad mak' a sang If that they baith bade on ootside the kirk Withoot the argybargyin' legal quirk, Throwin' the hale caboodle tae the win', Or, if ye like it, tae the neist o' kin (A wyse-like chiel him, Dooglas o' the Linn). Still what was a' this swith'rin but absurd ? The thing was settled. He had gi'en his word. — But as thae wheels gaed roon the thocht gained po'er That he himsel' was but an evil-doer; That he had led an honest lass astray Doon the foul vennel o' sculdudderie ; And a' the gifts that he micht heap upon her They wad but sink her deeper in dishonour; Even if he socht tae offer due redress He wad but add the mair til her distress ; An' sae, whatever airt he turned his desp'rate e'en Naething but misery hung owre the scene. 39 But whan his blisterin' thochts tae Raploch turned, His mind wi' self-resentment sooed an' burned. — Last o' a lang and noble Scottish line Whase lives an' deeds had aye been prood an' fine, He, traitor tae his hoose, had filed the name And so maun end an outcast, cleid in shame. — In fact, he was a mortal hopeless lost, Damned for his sin against the Holy Ghost. As Raploch tossed an' turned aboot this theme That stang ilk thocht and p'isened every dream, Ae day he fan' himsel' within the ha' Whaur hang the fam'ly picters on the wa', — The chief were leddies, for the Raploch men Great store set by their leddies, till this pen O' fair an' stately beauties wi' great names Was famous in a land o' sterlin' dames, A gall'ry this tae taigle ony man. And here in earlier days wad Raploch stan' Weavin' romances roon thae bonnie leddies. Until his held was whirlin' fu' o' eddies, Imaginin' their e'en tae him aye roamin' Shameless as lassies' e'en are i' the gloamin'. But noo as thro' he passed a thocht struck fire That thae auld friends were turned f 'ae him in ire, Frozen their faces and their broos o' leid. Their e'en doon-lidded, a' their interest deid. Prood kin they were — but what kin had the mother O' his new heir ? — An' so the teasin' bother Begood again. — Whase blude wad warm his face, Heid o' the clan and chieftain o' his race ? And like a whup-lash Raploch felt disgrace. 40 — Then f'ae the black o' anguish flared the thocht That in auld times afore new saftness brocht The stern high customs' end, he wad ha' tholed A judgment frae his kin, ne'er craven-soul'd. And for his ill wad ha' been summoned forth, Tae tak' his stance an' fend his slightit worth. Sae by that law the modern fule ca's cruel He could ha' saved his honour in a duel. — Peety the laddie never yet had h'ard Hoo mony auncient faimilies are tarred Wi' common brushes — e'en his ain nae doot — (His mither, ye maun ken, the Leddy Mary, For a' her name, was juist a mule-canary), He needna ha'e sae blame't himsel' tae boot For his bit slip, the lass was gude an' fair. And never better mither had an heir. — Dod ! Mony a yin her ain has praised an' thankit, Has borne a bairn the wrang side o' the blanket ! — Through love and pride by ignorance he fell, Did Raploch, for he couldna help himsel'. VI Raploch's Ha's ableeze wi' licht Shimmerin' thro' the misty nicht. Can'les lowein' on the posts Fill the grey mist thick wi' ghosts. Things inside are thrang asteer; Folk arrive f'ae faur and near. Word's gane roon for a nicht o' cheer. 41 Some dizzen were expeekit; Cora Linn I min', an' Stewart o' Laigh Carfin, The Hamiltons frae Draffan faur awa' As riotous a pair as e'er ye saw ; Sir John — anither de'il — frae Ferniebrae, That's five; — then Fleemin' o' Da'serf an' Colonel Rae, Seevin ; — the Mairs o' Netherburn, wee Doctor Highet, And auld Mess John altho' he will deny it, — But this I ken, 'twas him that kept the blude F'ae tricklin' tae the mistress whaur she stude ; — That mak's eleev'n ; forbye auld Lawyer Scoon The Raploch factor, and a canny loon ; But whether he jaloused — I often wunner — Hoo heavy was the lift that nicht wi' thunner, Ready, as 'twere the sword o' Fate, tae fa' An' scatter death an' sorrow 'mang us a', I cannae tell. — Still, 'twas a merry crew. At least until the dinin' was got through. Ne'er had I seen oor laird sae fou o' fun, Warmin' them roun' as if he was the sun. Till ev'n the frosty Colonel had tae thaw. And a' the glasses rang tae his guffaw. Chaffin' wi' yin an' daffm' wi' anither, He swee'd the table as ye'd swee a feather; An' servants back an' forrit tae the pantry Could scarce haud in their lauch afore the gentry. But through the glee auld Scoon sat still an' glum, Eyein' the laird as if he wish't him dumb. An' whan the laird this cauldriff fish wad play Scoon shook his heid an' said the lad was fey. — As sune as things were cleared I left the press. For there was Mistress Jean tae deck an' dress. She was attired in velvet, new an' braw, That sweepit frae her shouthers doon tae fa' Smooth, clean, an' straight, without a break or seam, As dark — as deep — as death is in a dream. Her saft white arms an' shouthers slopin' shone Like snaw in wreaths, or alabaster stone. An' frae her neck, wee draps o' moonshot mist, Hung pearls in chains, linked wi' an amethyst. Her nicht-dark hair, made starry wi' a preen, — The Raploch di'mond — had an orra sheen O' russet flamin', and within it low We placed a blude-red rose tae trap the glow ; And as she stude, she had the air, had Jean, As if she ruled a kingdom wi' her e'en. I helpt her dress, an' till the day I dee Never again will I sic beauty see — Sic perfeck blend o' high-wrocht harmony. Her body and her face, sae sweet an' prood. Proclaimed a Princess Royal o' Nature's brood. And as she moved wi' grace and majesty Thoro' the picter-ha' tae mak' entrie, Nane o' the leddies greatly limned there Could touch oor Mistress Jean, for a' their air. So she advanced, and I her followed on. Beirin' within my arms her infant son, — Yersel', my lad ! — In lace like frosty rime, Me thinkin' 'twas yer christenin' a' the time ! But whan we'd won as faur as the great door The laird strode oot an' stude his lass before. And as, heid high, ilk' socht the ither's e'en. Never, I trow, did ony King and Queen Confer wi' air sae solemn an' sae still, Unless debatin' some great weel or ill. 43 Then the big doors slow opened, an' we passed In staid procession, nayther slow nor fast, Intil the room, amid a Huntin' Chorus, That sune, ye may believe, sank dumb afore us. Ilk man looked strangely, but nane spak' a word, Till naething but oor scliffin' feet was heard. The laird was leadin' by the han' his Jean, And I cam' on ahint them wi' the wean. My knees were shakin' — nocht I saw but reek — Until I heard the tongue o' Raploch speak : " I charge you, friends, sooth witness now to bear That I this woman, Jean Gilroy, declare To be my wife, and this her son, my son and heir ! " An' then did Jean hersel' in even tone Repeat the like, wi' his name for her own. The guests sat roon in silence and non-plussed. Puzzled as if some ploy was bein' thrust Upon them unawares, though Lawyer Scoon Hoasted a wee and watch'd the company roon. Syne up frae aff his chair got Colonel Rae : *' Raploch ! " quo' he, " I honour you this day, And wish long life tae both and all prosperity." Whereat they raised a cheer, and a' the room Arose tae drink the health o' bride an' groom. What happen'd neist I couldnae richt discern. For Jean had cried me owre tae show the bairn. And the gay comp'ny crooded roon tae see, Lauchin' an' jokin' her as weel as me. When high abune the merriment an' sport, Suddent, the hoose rang wi' a loud report. The bairnie jump't ; auld Scoon slapp't doon his han' Upon the table; curst; then up an' ran. 44 Jean lookit hasty roon, the groups atween, For Somebody. — He wasna tae be seen. — The door flew open — an' before ma e'en ! — The door flew open — God ! I canna tell — There by the leddies he had lo'ed owre well Lay Raploch, lifeless. He had shot himsel' ! Who is She that stately comes, (As the wind wails) To the roll of muffled drums, (And the ship sails) Who is this dark Lady tall (And the tide frets) Robed in Shadow of the pall (As the sun sets). With her brow imperial pale (For the near is very far) With her dark funereal veil (Though the gate is wide ajar) With, in either hand, a wreath (And the fire is sudden cold) Green of Hope and red of Death (Since the grievous tale is told) ? Sorrow is her honoured name (See the wheat is in the ear !) Sorrow is her meed of fame (It is early come the year) Sorrow, mourning for her dead, (So the close and driven snow) Empty heart and heavy head (Lays the drooping lilies low). 45 Dark cypresses shade her path, Where the bitter wind's at play, Blanched her tresses in God's wrath. Driving all the light away, Leaden limbs and feelings numb. And the heart is crying. God hath struck and man is dumb. Where the lily's lying. (Death Immortal, hear my prayer) It will rise again, (Give me strength my life to bear) And forget the rain (Till with welcome finish thou) When the lanes will hum (Through remembrance drive the plow) As the children come. (Thy strong arms will me console) Life will happy sing (Thy embrace will make me whole) And the bees will bring (When upon thy frozen breast) Honey from the flowers (I will gain eternal rest) Through the golden hours. — Golden are the hours. Honey is the fruit, Love is in the flowers When love is at the root. 46 KENNEDY'S JOCK Etc. Kennedy's Jock Green is the grass and blue the sky, Siller an' gowd the daisies lie ; Siller an' gowd were nocht tae me When Kennedy's Jock cam' owre the lea. A MESSAGE frae Crawfurd tae Kennedy cam' As the laird sat drinkin' his mornin' dram, Tae say : Yerl Crawfurd swore by the Tree' An' the ill-faur'd carle that sailed the sea, Whan they sottered the hellicat warlock's banes On the high dry rigg o' the nine whin-stanes, He wad tether a soo tae tak' her will O' Kennedy grass on a Kennedy hill ; And as Kennedy's laird was broken wi' years He wad factor for Kennedy — he and his spears. Up rose Kennedy roarin' rage, *' God's curse on Crawfurd that mocks at age ; I'm maybe doted, my lad, but still Gin it's feedin' ye want, ye'se get yer fill. Tae pook the beard o' an aged man Is the trick o' a wean or a gowk's randan, Based on an old Ayrshire Tale. I have taken liberties with names. 51 But the gowk that pooks auld Kennedy's chin Maun jook tae the steel o' Kennedy's kin. Hae ! Jock and Gauvin, Tammas an' Pate, The deil's in ma folk, they're a' that blate ! — Rin, bid thae loons o' mine foregether To assist Yerl Crawfurd a soo tae tether. Aff tae the hill, the firth, an' the byre. An' summon the lads o' fettle an' fire. Crawfurd is hie an' Crawfurd is great. But Crawfurd '11 tak' the nether gate When the Kennedy lads in gleefu' tid Water his soo wi' Crawfurd's blude. Could I but lead the bonnie dance A single turn, my only chance O' winnin' tae Heaven I'd willin'ly tyne, Tae slit the throats baith o' Yerl an' swine. Tae feel them quick aneath my heel, Tae hear them baith thegither squeal, Tae see their hert's blude rinnin dry Wad please me mair nor rowth o' kye — Stots as black as Crawfurd himsel', — Sae flit him, my lads, wi' his soo tae hell ! " Loud was the din and muckle the stour O' fechtin' Kennedys, thrawn and dour. There was wee red Keltic, fain o' sic wark, A muirland cuif, him, quick wi' the dirk; There was Jock o' Tarbolton an' Tam o' the Mill, Pate o' Lessnorris an' Erchie an' Wull, Hamely chiels frae the Castle roon An' a wheen saut sailors frae Girvan toon, Whase clatterin' horses an' jinglin' steel Maist waukened the deid i' the graves o' Poniel ; 52 Sturdy loons a' were the Kennedy folk. But the pride o' the pack was Kennedy's Jock. Jist tae see him marshall his men An' ride at the heid o' them up the glen Filled the he'rt wi' pridefu' mirth A thing sae bonny should be o' the yirth. Mony a lassock's e'e grew dim When she saw his swanky mien an' slim; Mony a lassock's he'rt was sair To think she ne'er micht see him mair. Sae easy an' free as he han'led his steed He shone owre the lave a flo'er amang weed. Bravest and best o' the Kennedy kin Mounted an' 'coutred he flew on the win J For like leaves in October when breezes blaw dry A clash an' a clatter an' a' was by ; Then a wee, thin, jinglin' oot owre the muir An' the toun was as tim as my luif, an' as bare, Wi' nae man left but Kennedy's sel' Gantin' an' girnin' an' bitin' his nail, Fumin' an' frettin' wi' fidgetty care, Cursin' the wecht o' his lyart hair, Till his rampin' rages an' angry roar Chased us tremblin' oot at the door. An' his kindly Leddy, souple and slee. Turned us owre richt hastilie Tae tirl the pirn an' ca' the wheel, An' rid oor ears o' the ring o' the steel. Sae the heavy 'oors gaed hirplin' by. An' oh ! tae hear the lark i' the sky. The lichtsome lark that sings i' the b'ue. An' us sae wae tae see a' through. 53 But the wearyfu' day wore by at last, Wi' the ring played oot tae the hinmost east. Black through the linn the waters are tum'lin', Low on the knowe the wins are rum'lin', When limpin' an' lamiter doon the lang glen Comes a slow rider f rae Kennedy's men ; Hails the auld laird wi' blood-stain'd han', " Speak up, for I'm deif ! — What ails the man? " " Lang was the battle, my lord, an' sore, An' Kennedys warstled as never before. But oh ! tae yield my tale o' grief : Young Jock oor Jock has tint his life " (Kennedy's Jock, oh ! wae is me ! Whan will I sic anither see ? ) *' Jock? Whit Jock? " '* Young Jock, yer son ! His fechtin's by. — His days are done ! " " Jock here ! Jock there ! — This fule's half-wittit. My thoomb for Jock ! — Is the ftoo fiittit f " 54 The High Street, Edinburgh Hie street, laigh street, Lang street, strait street. Palace at the t'ae end. Castle at the t'ither, Min' yir feet at eyther end, Or ye may get a dither ! 55 Triste Marie Hear the bells ringin' To usher her in, A' the folk singin' Siccan a din ! Singin' to Marie — triste Marie — fair Marie, Ringin' in Marie; for Fotheringay. Whae's the lang callant That strides the Hie Street? He's a rare gallant To gar maidens greet — Greetin' wi' Marie — triste Marie — true Marie, Greetin' for Marie an' Fotheringay. Iron heels trampin' The floors aboon — Lassie, they're stampin' The fiddler doon ! — Rulin' Queen Marie — triste Marie — light Marie, Sehoolin' soft Marie for Fotheringay. Wha's the bauld lover Wi' tongue like a bell? Bodell the rover Gendered in Hell. Lovin' wi' Marie — triste Marie — fule Marie, Shovin' rapt Marie to Fotheringay. 56 Heard ye the thumier? Saw ye the sicht? Whatna scunner Shames the fair licht ! Blamin' pale Marie — triste Marie — mazed Marie- Shamin' their Marie to Fotheringay. I've heard the thunner And seen the sicht — Up wi' the banner, Knox for the richt ! Teachin' foul Marie — triste Marie — Hell's Marie- Preachin' to Marie black Fotheringay. In the wan stern-licht Torches lowe drumly Roon the red guard-licht Traitors watch grimly. Hiein' wi' Marie — triste Marie — bound Marie — Hiein' lost Marie to Fotheringay. Open the castle yett Lad wi' the keys. Never will I forget You on your knees — Kneelin' to Marie — triste Marie — Queen Marie— Freein' sweet Marie for Fotheringay. Ower on the Glesca hills Hard they are strivin', Broadsword and Scottish bills Hackin' an' rivin' — Strivin' for Marie — triste Marie — gay Marie Drivin' dear Marie to Fotheringay. 57 Bail the boat ready The Solway shore Sail our Queen-Leddy The Solway ower — Sailin' wi' Marie — triste Marie — lone Marie — Sailin' wi' Marie to Fotheringay. Seek ye a sister's hand Basely rejected ? Here in strong England Sleep ye protected — Welcomin' Marie — triste Marie — low Marie — Welcomin' Marie to Fotheringay. Cramoisie gie to me, Under the hood, Red goon an' petty shoon Hides a' the blood — Toll for slain Marie — triste Marie — clean Marie- Toll for poor Marie at Fotheringay. 58 Fair Janet Fair Janet sat nursin' her wee new-born, — Saft the win' blaws amang the trees, — Fair Janet sat nursin' her wee new-born, And aye she lookit and gantit forlorn, Nursin' her wean i' the Hall o' Horn, I' Cadyow Hoose sae bonnie. Whan will my trystit Lord won hame ? — Spier at the win' amang the trees — Whan will yer feyther deir come hame ? Is he taigl't or poorly that thinks nae shame Tae lea' us sae lang here wantin' a name, I' Cadyow Hoose sae bonnie ? Hamilton's Lord's in Embro toun, — Hark til the win' amang the trees — Hamilton's Lord's in Embro toun. Silk are his hose and siller his shoon, Matchin' a swatch for a Lady's goun Though Cadyow Hoose be bonnie. He's waddin' the King his sister fair, — Snell the win' blaws amang the trees, — He's waddin' the day a Princess fair, Wi' gowd in her kist an' gowden hair, Sae het his love he's nane tae spare For her i' Cadyow bonnie. 59 Whatna word is this tae bring? — Bitter the win' amang the trees — Whatna word is this ye bring, A sooch o' a lover on the wing Whan I ettled a priest an' a waddin' ring Frae Cadyow Hoose sae bonnie? Fair i' the sun lies Castlemilk — Saft the win' blaws the simmer trees — Fair is the laird o' Castlemilk, He'se coort me in satin an' wed me in silk, An' mak' me Leddy o' a' his Ilk, An' de'il tak' Cadyow bonnie ! She's flung the bairnie doon on the flure, — An' the win' is sabbin' amang the trees — She's left the wee thing broken there. An' she's aff an' awa' ayont the muir, Tae wed a prettier man, be shure, Than him o' Cadyow bonnie. (It is the tradition that the first Hamilton of Broomhill was deserted thus early by his mother.) The Hawthorn Tree Whaur ha'e ye been the lee-lang day ? (Green grows the leaf on the hawthorn tree) I've travailt a sair and a weary way (And red as blood are the haws). Sma' is your face, and great your e'en ! (Green grows the leaf on the hawthorn tree) A laverock startled me yestreen. (And red as blood are the haws). Oh ! But your lips are wan to see ! (White is the flower of the bonnie hawthorn) Untimely dule has made me wae. (And red as blood are the haws). Yestreen I saw your bonnie doo 1 (Rosy is the flower of the sweet hawthorn) It's long since I kissed his fickle mou'. (And red as blood are the haws). Ha'e ye preed your broth or grace was said ? (Green grows the leaf on the hawthorn tree) It's bitter I've rued and dearly I've paid ! (And red as blood are the haws). 61 But what's in till't to gar ye fear ? (Green grows the leaf on the hawthorn tree) Nought but the weird that I maun bear. (And red as blood are the haws). You've nought but to pu' the growin' fruit ! (A worm's at the leaf of the hawthorn tree) I've tugged at the stalk but it's growin' yet. (And red as blood are the haws). Seek the road to the kirk ore lang ! (Green grows the leaf on the hawthorn tree) Soon I'll be carried and then I'll gang (And red as blood are the haws). Rin for a priest in cope and stole (Yellow the leaf on the hawthorn tree) To shrive a stricken lassie's soul (And red as blood are the haws). And bring a white shroud to sweel her in, (Soft fa's the leaf frae the hawthorn tree) Her fair white body that tholed the sin. (And red as blood are the haws). 62 The Rant of Eleezabeth Auchterlonie D'ye ken wee Leezabeth Auchterlonie, That ca's the needle and shears? Weel, the Deil got hand o' her gimp and bonnie, An' he's no' yin that steers ! When she fan' hersel' gruppit, she out wi' a needle, Quo' she : I maun darn yer auld gear. An' she pykit the Deil till he bawled like a Beadle, But yet he wadna steer. Syne the shears she took wi' a swing like a hanger, An' dang in his hurdles some teers, Jag whaur ye like, roared the Deil in his anger ; I'll no' be the yin that steers. But that lowsed her tongue an' she gied him the wyte Deavin' the Deevil tae tears, [o't. She ratit an' fly tit till he was clean d'itit An' steered him wi' stangs in his ears ! Then here's tae wee Leezabeth Auchterlonie, Her tongue as shairp as her shears, When next that she gangs wantin' a crony, I'll whustle an' see if she hears ! 63 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE DUNEDIN PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. RECD LD-URD DEC 1 1 '^- Form L9-50m-7,'54 (5990) 444 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIF0IUSI4 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 369 919 6 3 1158 00963 87 PR 6025 M1952P