Louping and flinging on a crummock,

I wonder didna turn thy stomach!

165

But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie:
There was ae winsome wench and wawlie,
That night enlisted in the core,
Lang after kend on Carrick shore
(For monie a beast to dead she shot,
An' perished monie a bonie boat,

And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
And kept the country-side in fear).
Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude though sorely scanty,

It was her best, and she was vauntie.
Ah! little kend thy reverend grannie,
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots ('t was a' her riches),
Wad ever graced a dance o' witches!

170

175

180

But here my Muse her wing maun cour, Sic flights are far beyond her power: To sing how Nannie lap and flang (A souple jad she was and strang), And how Tam stood like ane bewitched, And thought his very een enriched; Even Satan glowered, and fidged fu' fain, 185 And hotched and blew wi' might and main; Till first ae caper, syne anither, Tam tint his reason a' thegither,

And roars out: 'Weel done, Cutty-sark!'

And in an instant all was dark;

And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,

When out the hellish legion sallied.

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,

When plundering herds assail their byke; As open pussie's mortal foes,

When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd,

190

195

205

When 'Catch the thief!' resounds aloud:
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi' monie an eldritch skriech and hollo. 200
Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin!
In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!
Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane of the brig;
There, at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross!
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake;
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,

And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie's mettle!
Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,

210

215

My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring

stream

Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her

dream!

1792

AE FOND KISS

AE fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, 5
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy:
Naething could resist my Nancy!
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met or never parted
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure,

10

15

Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure! 20
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, alas, for ever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

HIGHLAND MARY

1792

YE banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!

There simmer first unfauld her robes,

5

5

A DREAM

ONCE a dream did weave a shade
O'er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near,

10

Who replied, What wailing wight 15
Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle's hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!'

1789

20

AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower;
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour,

A Robin Redbreast in a cage

Puts all Heaven in a rage;

A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.

A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state;

A game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Doth the rising sun affright;

A horse misused upon the road
Calls to Heaven for human blood.
Every wolf's and lion's howl

Raises from hell a human soul;
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain doth tear;
A skylark wounded on the wing
Doth make a cherub cease to sing.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men;
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved;
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feed the spider's enmity;
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.

The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe;
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
The gnat that sings his summer song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue;
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot;

The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy;

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Cæsar's laurel crown.

Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armourer's iron brace;
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
When gold and gems adorn the plough,
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
The beggar's rags fluttering in the air
Do to rags the heavens tear;

The prince's robes and beggar's rags Are toadstools on the miser's bags.

One mite wrung from the labourer's hands Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,

Or, if protected from on high,

Shall that whole nation sell and buy;
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
The [bawd] and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate;
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet;
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Shall dance before dead England's hearse.

The caterpillar on the leaf

Repeats to thee thy mother's grief;

The questioner who sits so sly

The wild deer wandering here and there Keep the human soul from care:

Shall never know how to reply.

He who replies to words of doubt

The lamb misused breeds public strife, And yet forgives the butcher's knife. Kill not the moth nor butterfly,

For the last judgment draweth nigh;
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou shalt grow fat.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;

Doth put the light of knowledge out;

A puddle, or the cricket's cry,

Is to doubt a fit reply.

90

The child's toys and the old man's reasons 95 Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile

Make lame philosophy to smile.

A truth that's told with bad intent