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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,

6

When, Catch the thief!' resounds aloud;
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,

Wi' many an eldritch skreech and hollow.
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,
Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:

1 It is a well-known tradition that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next running stream.-It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with bogles, whatever danger may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back. VOL. II.

F

Whene'er to drink you are inclin❜d,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.

EPITAPH

ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER.

HERE SOwter **** in death does sleep;
To h-ll, if he's gane thither,
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep,
He'll haud it weel thegither.

EPITAPH

ON A NOISY POLEMIC.

BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie's banes :
O death, it's my opinion,

Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin b-tch
Into thy dark dominion!

EPITAPH

ON WEE JOHNNY.

Hic jacet wee Johnnie.

WHOE'ER thou art, O reader, know,

That death has murder'd Johnnie!

An' here his body lies fu' low-
For saul he ne'er had ony.

A BARD'S EPITAPH.

Is there a whim-inspired fool,

Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool, Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool,

And drap a tear.

Is there a bard of rustic song, 1

Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,

That weekly this area throng,

O, pass not by!

But, with a frater-feeling strong,

Here, heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear,
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,

Wild as the wave;

Here pause-and, through the starting tear, Survey this grave.

The poor inhabitant below

Was quick to learn and wise to know,
And keenly felt the friendly glow,

And softer flame,

But thoughtless follies laid him low,

And stain'd his name!

Reader, attend-whether thy soul
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit;

Know, prudent, cautious, self-control,
Is wisdom's root.

ON THE

LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S

PEREGRINATIONS THROUGH SCOTLAND, COLLECT-
ING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM.

HEAR, Land O' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groats;
If there's a hole in a' your coats,

I rede you tent it:

A chield's amang you, taking notes,

And, faith, he'll prent it.

If in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,
O' stature short, but genius bright,

That's he, mark weel

And wow! he has an unco slight

O' cauk and keel.

By some auld, houlet-haunted, biggin',
Or Kirk deserted by its riggin,

It's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in

Some eldritch part,

Wi' deils, they say, L-d safe 's! colleaguin At some black art.

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chamer, Ye gipsey-gang that deal in glamor,

And you deep read in hell's black grammar, Warlocks and witches;

Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,

Ye midnight b

Its tauld he was a sodger bred,
And ane wad rather fa'n than fled;
But now he's quat the spurtle blade,

-es.

And dog-skin wallet,

And ta'en the-Antiquarian trade,

I think they call it.

He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:
Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets 2,
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets,
A towmont gude;

And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets,
Before the Flood.

Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder;
Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool and fender;
That which distinguished the gender

O' Balaam's ass;

A broom-stick o' the witch of Endor,

Weel shod wi' brass.

1 Vide his Antiquities of Scotland.

2 Vide his treatise on ancient armour and weapons.

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