 | The Siller Gun, A Poem in Five Cantos. By John Mayne |  |
95
CANTO FOURTH.
EPISODES OF LOVE AND QUARREL—GAINING OF THE PRIZE.
97
I
'Tween boozing, dancing, sangs, and laughing,The afternoon drew on wi' daffin:
Auld fowk seem'd young again wi' quaffing
Some fav'rite's name;
And Love, in youthfu' breasts, was flaffing,
A mutual flame!
98
II
Sic shaking hands, and kind enquiries,'Tween Uncle Johns, and Aunty Maries!
Grave dames, in a' their nice feegaries,
And ancient beaus,
Whistling and singing, like Canaries—
Blithe and jocose!
III
Croose as a cock in his ain cavy,Wha shou'd be there but Hinny Davy?
The Gee, and Fare ye weel, Killavy,
He sang sae sweet,
His friends, though knuckle-deep in gravy,
Forgat to eat!
99
IV
Some Ballad-singers, lilting lang,Paraded round and round the thrang:
I wat they were a canty gang,
And sung sae fine,
Fowk follow'd till they learnt some sang,
Like this o' mine:
CRAWFORDJOHN.
1
“As I was gawn to Crawfordjohn,“Amang the bonny blooming heather,
“A blithesome laddy, passing on,
“Propos'd that we shou'd gang together:
“For, O! my bonny lass, says he,
“I'm quite in love wi' you already,
“And, if ye'll trust yoursel' wi' me,
“When I'm a laird, ye'se be a leddy.
100
2
“He spak sae kind, as we gaed on,“We didna mind the wind or weather,
“For, ere we cam to Crawfordjohn,
“We pledg'd our troth to ane anither.
“Through life he vows he'll gang wi' me,
“And a' my thoughts are now about him,
“His simple wife I'd rather dee,
“Than live a titled dame without him.
3
“Then, weel's me aye on Crawfordjohn,“And, O! when kindly hearts forgather,
“May never lad nor lassy moan
“That ere they met amang the heather!
“For, as to my lad and mysel',
“Our lots are cast with ane anither;
“And, hence, our bairns's bairns shall tell
“How weel we liv'd and lov'd together!”
101
V
But wha can paint yon matron's fears,Whase daughter in the dance appears?
Boding nae gude frae young men's leers,
She, wi' concern,
Starts at ilk glance, and thinks she hears
Her ruin'd bairn!
VI
She sees, wi' meikle grief and pain,Jock getting fu', and Jenny fain;
And sighs for fear that guilt shou'd stain
Yon spotless face,
Flush'd, like red roses after rain,
Wi' modest grace!
102
VII
Aft to the whins, frae 'mang the thrang,Some laddy and his lassy gang;
But, O! the sports sae sweet and lang,
Within that shade,
Beguile to mony a future pang
The yielding maid!
VIII
Amang the laive was country Johnny,Wi' his joe Meg as braw as ony:
Nae doubt she thought hersel' as bonny
As ony there;
But, lang ere e'en, her cockernonny
Was toozel'd sair!
103
IX
For, when the slee intriguing clownHad fairly danc'd his partner down,
Cauld whisky-punch, and ale, nut-brown,
He gart her sweel,
'Till, dizzy, a' the warld ran round,
As in a reel!
X
'Twas then, in ecstacy, he sawHer weel-turn'd ancle, straught and sma'!
Her neck, her heaving breast, and a'!
O! strange delight!
Wow! what is man or maid ava,
In sic a plight?
104
XI
For, owr the mind, when Drink presides,In pranks o' sin and shame it prides:
To Wisdom's ways it never guides,
But brings to view
A thousand fau'ts whilk Temp'rance hides
In me and you!
XII
Still, where encamp'd the Sev'n Trades lie,Their gilded banners proudly fly:
Still to the stance detachments hie,
And cock their guns,
While troops o' friends are standing by,
To see wha wons!
105
XIII
Elsewhere, the Youth of ilka Trade,Their first attempt, as Marksmen, made;
And, to their credit, be it said,
That this day's muster
Conferr'd distinction on their grade,
And nae sma' lustre:
XIV
Contending for a bran new hat,To wear on Sundays, and a' that,
Like riflemen, they were sae pat,
And aim'd sae true,
The Mark whilk they were shooting at
Was riddled through!
106
XV
'Till now, while thund'ring guns resound,The feast prevails, the glass gaes round:
Pastime and harmony abound,
And fond entreating—
Pleasures that ha'e, for ages, crown'd
This merry meeting!
XVI
Bright Phœbus, frae his azure clime,Shone sweetly radiant a' the time!
Nature hersel' was in her prime—
When fruits and flow'rs
Fill the glad heart wi' thoughts sublime
Of heavenly Powers!
107
XVII
But word was brought to Deacon Greer,Intrench'd wi' friends, pies, bread, and beer,
That, counter to a mandate clear,
Ane o' the Snobs,
Vain as a peacock, strutted here
In crimson robes!
XVIII
This news, though nought cou'd happen droller,Bred the hale party meikle dolour:
A Taylor, mair frae spleen than valour,
Assail'd the man,
And, taking Crispin by the collar,
To carp began:
108
XIX
“Ye gude-for-naething Sutor hash,“Though muisted is your carrot pash,
“Tell me, I say, thou Captain Flash,
“Withouten charter,
“What right ha'e ye to wear this sash,
“And star and garter?”
XX
“It sets ye weel, indeed, to speer,”The Sutor answer'd with a sneer:
“I represent King Crispin here!
“While, fye for shame,
“Your lousy Craft to manhood ne'er
“Cou'd yet lay claim!”
109
XXI
Cut to the quick wi' this rebuff,The captious Taylor grew mair gruff;
And, swearing he was better stuff
Than sic a foutre,
Stripp'd, in a twinkling, to the buff,
And brav'd the Sutor.
XXII
“A ring, a ring!” the Sutors cry'd:“A ring, a ring!” the Snips reply'd:
Some egg'd them on; and, while some try'd
To stop their flyting,
The crowd fell back, encircling wide
A space for fighting!
110
XXIII
In dread for what might happen neist,Around the ring the clamour ceast:
Sae croose the twa set up their creest,
Before the toolie,
Fowk thought in other's wames, at least,
They'd sheath a goolie.
XXIV
Wi' looks that ill conceal'd his fears,The Taylor in the lists appears:
King Crispin, wha in nobler weirs
Had aften bled,
His brawny arm, indignant, rears,
And, dauntless, said:
111
XXV
“Now tak, thou warst o' worthless things,“The vengeance due frae slighted Kings!”
Wi' that, his garments aff he flings,
And, as he strack,
The supple Taylor skips and springs—
Aye jeuking back!
XXVI
To see fair play, or help a frien',Fowk stoiter'd frae a' airts, bedeen:
Auld wives, to redd them, ran between,
Like Amazons,
And nought was heard, syne, owr the green,
But scraighs and groans!
112
XXVII
The Taylor-lad, forfoughten sair,Was knockit down, ance, twice, and mair;
His baffled comrades, in despair,
Draw quickly near him,
Heeze up his carcase on a chair,
Revive, and chear him.
XXVIII
Besprent wi' blood, besprent wi' glar,His een japann'd, his chafts a-jar,
“Be thankfu', man, it is nae war,”
Says Edom Bryon,
“A living dog is better far
“Than a dead lion!”
113
XXIX
'Mid loud huzzas, and women's squeels,A dawn of hope the Taylor feels;
Feghts like a cock that rins and wheels,
While, dunt, dunt, dunting,
Crispin pursues, trips up his heels,
And leaves him grunting!
XXX
Vex'd at the upshot o' this fray,The Taylors bore their friend away:
Crispin remain'd in kingly sway;
And, loud and lang,
Bursts of wild joy, “hurray! hurray!”
Exulting, rang!
114
XXXI
Frae Johnny Groats's to the Border,Was ne'er sic tumult and disorder:
Here Discord strave new broils to forder:
There, Beagles flew
To haud the Sutor-lads in order,
But nought wou'd do.
XXXII
Rob Kinnie, Clench, and Jeamy Strong,And twa-three mae, the feght prolong:
Where'er they cam, aff flew the throng
O' country billies,
Like cattle prodit with a prong,
Or cleg-stung fillies.
115
XXXIII
There's little wisdom in his powWha lights a candle at the lowe:
To bell the cat wi' sic a scrow,
Some swankies ettled;
But, O! they gat a fearfu' cowe
Ere a' was settled!
XXXIV
Rushing like droves o' madden'd nowt,Rob's party caus'd a gen'ral rout:
Foul play or fair; kick, cuff, and clout;
Right side, or wrang,
Friends feghting friends, rampag'd about,
A drucken thrang!
116
XXXV
In vain Convener Tamson rais'dAnd wav'd his hand, like ane ha'f craz'd:
In vain his heralds fleech'd and phras'd,
Where Strife, lang brewing,
Threaten'd, like Ilium when it blaz'd,
Baith wreck and ruin!
XXXVI
To furnish weapons for th' affray,Craems, tents, and stawns, were swept away:
Puist fowk, unus'd to cudgel-play,
And doose spectators,
Were a' involv'd in this deray,
Like gladiators!
117
XXXVII
Nor cou'd ye ken, wi' nicest care,The victors frae the vanquish'd there:
Like Kelton-Hill, that feghting Fair,
The hubbleshew,
Wi' neeves, and staffs, and rugging hair,
Sae awsome grew!
XXXVIII
And aft, as ye may weel suppose,In broils where women interpose,
Baith parties gat the sairest blows,
Blows that were gi'en them
While pu'd and haul'd by their ain joes,
Striving to screen them!
118
XXXIX
Thus, lang and sair, our pleasures crost,The battle rag'd frae host to host;
The turbulent, when uppermost,
Tint a' decorum,
And, like the Ocean, tempest-tost,
Drave a' before them!
XL
At length a parley is decreed—Parties shake hands, and are agreed:
The crowd, dispersing, join wi' speed
In nobler fun,
The shooting for that royal Meed—
The Siller Gun!
119
XLI
Amid the scenes, depainted here,O' love, and war, and social cheer,
Auld Sportsmen fired correct and clear;
And Samuel Clark,
Mild as the Spring, when flow'rs appear,
Just miss'd the mark!
XLII
Auld Sodgers, too, and honest Tars,Return'd triumphant frae the wars,
Level'd their guns like sons o' Mars,
While mony a dame
Extol'd the glory o' their scars,
And deeds o' fame!
120
XLIII
Yet, oh! examples were but fewOf hardiment, like their's, I trow:
When Geordy Rae his trigger drew,
The bowel-hive
Gart meikle Geordy change his hue
Four times or five!
XLIV
When his gun snappit, James M'Kee,Charge after charge, charg'd to the ee:
At length she bounc'd out owr a tree,
In mony a flinner—
“For Gude's sake, bairns! keep back!” cries he:
“There's sax shot in her!”
121
XLV
Loud leugh the crowd at Watty Lock,Whase gun exploded at ha'f-cock:
“Hoot,” cries a friend, by way o' joke,
“My honest carl,
“Your gun wants only a new stock,
“New lock, and barrel!”
XLVI
Wull Shanklin brought his firelock hither,And cock'd it in an unco swither:
Ae drucken Sutor jeer'd anither
To come and learn—
Fuff play'd the priming—heels owr ither,
They fell in shairn!
122
XLVII
Just in the moment o' disgrace,Convener Tamson saw their case:
O! how he hid his manly face,
And fleech'd thae fallows
To think upon the glorious race
O' godlike Wallace!
XLVIII
William M'Nish, a Taylor slee,Rouz'd at the thought, charg'd his fuzee;
Took but ae vizzy wi' his ee—
The bullet flies
Clean through the target to a tee,
And wons the Prize!
123
XLIX
His winsome wife, wha lang had miss'd him,Press'd thro' the crowd, caress'd and kiss'd him:
Less furthy dames, (wha cou'd resist them?)
Th' example take;
And some held up his bairns, and bless'd them,
For daddy's sake!
L
In William's hat, wi' ribbons bound,The Gunny was wi' laurel crown'd;
And, while in triumph owr the ground
They bore him tenty,
His health in streams o' punch gaed round,
“Lang life and plenty!”
124
LI
Wi' loud applause, frae man and woman,His fame spread like a spate wide foaming!
Warse deeds hae gi'en to mony a Roman
Immortal fame;
But prodigies are grown sae common,
They've tint the name!
| The Siller Gun, A Poem in Five Cantos. By John Mayne | |