The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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INTRODUCTION. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
INTRODUCTION.
Where is the place that mair o' life ye'll learn,
Than 'hint the scenes in some auld kintra barn,
Where two-three hungry, ragged, Spouter blades,
—Wha'd better stuck through life to spools or spades,—
Driven by stern want, the fell remorseless jaud;
Mang kintra folk do ply their kittle trade?
Than 'hint the scenes in some auld kintra barn,
Where two-three hungry, ragged, Spouter blades,
—Wha'd better stuck through life to spools or spades,—
Driven by stern want, the fell remorseless jaud;
Mang kintra folk do ply their kittle trade?
There ye may see a lang horn shottle chiel,
On whose pale face, hunger is painted weel,
As Dick the Third shout for “a horse! a horse!”
To meet young Richmond, an' the invading force:
Or else some sniftering, snivelling, ill-clad loon,
Wha wadna hae the heart a cat to droon;
As stern Macbeth, rampauging through his part,
An' for his crown stab Duncan to the heart.
Anither chiel, wha ilk day thumps his wife,
There, on the stage, acts Romeo to the life;
While whimpering Juliet for a maid is ta'en,
Although last week she bore a bastard wean,
And couldna tell, though it wad saved her life,
Wha her a mother made before she was a wife.
On whose pale face, hunger is painted weel,
As Dick the Third shout for “a horse! a horse!”
To meet young Richmond, an' the invading force:
Or else some sniftering, snivelling, ill-clad loon,
Wha wadna hae the heart a cat to droon;
As stern Macbeth, rampauging through his part,
An' for his crown stab Duncan to the heart.
320
There, on the stage, acts Romeo to the life;
While whimpering Juliet for a maid is ta'en,
Although last week she bore a bastard wean,
And couldna tell, though it wad saved her life,
Wha her a mother made before she was a wife.
Or turn to Comedy: wha e'er wad think,
The chiels were hovering on starvation's brink;
Wha e'er wad think, to hear their ready joke,
That they were suffering 'neath affliction's stroke;
Or wha wad think yon funny, tumbling clown,
Wha raises laughter to the auld and young,
Beneath the fun and humour o' his part,
Concealed crushed spirits, and a breaking heart:
Yet sae it is, for down his pen he laid,
Fired by ambition for to try the trade,
At whilk great Garrick had got sic a name,
And whilk he thoucht wad lead even him to fame;
But noo he tumbles, to a score or twa
O' kintra bumpkins, in some aul' barn wa',
And sees himsel' gaun to an early grave,
Fell want and dissipation's ready slave.
The chiels were hovering on starvation's brink;
Wha e'er wad think, to hear their ready joke,
That they were suffering 'neath affliction's stroke;
Or wha wad think yon funny, tumbling clown,
Wha raises laughter to the auld and young,
Beneath the fun and humour o' his part,
Concealed crushed spirits, and a breaking heart:
Yet sae it is, for down his pen he laid,
Fired by ambition for to try the trade,
At whilk great Garrick had got sic a name,
And whilk he thoucht wad lead even him to fame;
But noo he tumbles, to a score or twa
O' kintra bumpkins, in some aul' barn wa',
And sees himsel' gaun to an early grave,
Fell want and dissipation's ready slave.
A' that, and mair, hae I richt aften seen,
When through the kintra wi' my pack I've been;
But what has brought it now just to my min',
Is an affair that happened here short-syne:
Upo' ae caul', bleak, blustry winter-day,
A Spouter blade, to our town took his way;
A lang ill-leukin' vagabond, I trow,
Dressed in a ragged coat that had been blue;
And wi' a bundle owre his shouther hung,
Tied to the en' o' a thick knotty rung;
While, by his side, trampèd a wee bit laddie,
Whose claes were like his master's, gyan duddie.
And as they slowly trudged along the street,
Plashing through dirt an' wat, wi' ill-shod feet;
Ilk aul' wife left her wheel, to rin and see
Wha that lang raggy ne'er-do-weel could be;
And as in twas and threes they gathered roun',
Wonnerin' what broucht sic gangrels to the town,
Some shook their heads, an' said—“Eh! sirs, I fear
It's for nae guid, as we owre soon will hear.”
While ithers said that—“We should thankfu' be
We ne'er had been broucht to sic misery;
But aye had haen a shelter owre our head,
An' ne'er could say that we hae wantit bread;
While some puir creatures haena where to lay
Their heads, nor yet as much as for a meal would pay.”
When through the kintra wi' my pack I've been;
But what has brought it now just to my min',
Is an affair that happened here short-syne:
Upo' ae caul', bleak, blustry winter-day,
A Spouter blade, to our town took his way;
A lang ill-leukin' vagabond, I trow,
Dressed in a ragged coat that had been blue;
And wi' a bundle owre his shouther hung,
Tied to the en' o' a thick knotty rung;
While, by his side, trampèd a wee bit laddie,
Whose claes were like his master's, gyan duddie.
And as they slowly trudged along the street,
Plashing through dirt an' wat, wi' ill-shod feet;
Ilk aul' wife left her wheel, to rin and see
321
And as in twas and threes they gathered roun',
Wonnerin' what broucht sic gangrels to the town,
Some shook their heads, an' said—“Eh! sirs, I fear
It's for nae guid, as we owre soon will hear.”
While ithers said that—“We should thankfu' be
We ne'er had been broucht to sic misery;
But aye had haen a shelter owre our head,
An' ne'er could say that we hae wantit bread;
While some puir creatures haena where to lay
Their heads, nor yet as much as for a meal would pay.”
After the Spouter had gaen out o' sight,
An' the auld wives had settled a' things right,
In a short time I had forgot him clean,
The same as if he never here had been;
When, leukin' frae the winnock, there I saw
His raggy callan, batterin' on the wa'
Big prentit bills—an' rinnin' out wi' speed
That I might his “announcement” quickly read,
I saw them headed “Wondrous novelty!”
In twa-inch letters, an' then “Come an' see!”
He then set forth his name was Mr. Main,
An' he had come direct frae Drury Lane,
Where baith their Majesties, the king an' queen,
Had aft wi' his performance pleaséd been;
And that he now was on his kintra tour,
That he might show the warl' his great power,—
Whilk was allowéd in the acting line,
By every ane, to be great an' sublime.
He then on the “Nobility!” did call,
“Gentry” an' “Public,” too, “in general;”
To come that night to William Watson's barn,
(This was in writing) where that they would learn
From certain pieces that he would recite
In the said barn, at eight o'clock that night,
The various passions of the human mind;
An' that a' those who might be sae inclined,
Would likewise hear some sangs, divinely sung
By Master Sprat; whase praises had been rung
Through a' the lan'; (a great deal mair was said,
Whilk noo has slippet clean out o' my head:)
Then ended wi' “The charge is just a penny,
So be in time, for the place wont hold many.”
An' the auld wives had settled a' things right,
In a short time I had forgot him clean,
The same as if he never here had been;
When, leukin' frae the winnock, there I saw
His raggy callan, batterin' on the wa'
Big prentit bills—an' rinnin' out wi' speed
That I might his “announcement” quickly read,
I saw them headed “Wondrous novelty!”
In twa-inch letters, an' then “Come an' see!”
He then set forth his name was Mr. Main,
An' he had come direct frae Drury Lane,
Where baith their Majesties, the king an' queen,
Had aft wi' his performance pleaséd been;
And that he now was on his kintra tour,
That he might show the warl' his great power,—
Whilk was allowéd in the acting line,
By every ane, to be great an' sublime.
He then on the “Nobility!” did call,
“Gentry” an' “Public,” too, “in general;”
To come that night to William Watson's barn,
(This was in writing) where that they would learn
From certain pieces that he would recite
In the said barn, at eight o'clock that night,
The various passions of the human mind;
An' that a' those who might be sae inclined,
322
By Master Sprat; whase praises had been rung
Through a' the lan'; (a great deal mair was said,
Whilk noo has slippet clean out o' my head:)
Then ended wi' “The charge is just a penny,
So be in time, for the place wont hold many.”
Ye wad hae thought the whole folk i' the town,
By this time 'bout the bills were gathered roun';
An' as in crowds, they stood, an' at them read,
'Twas odd to hear the droll remarks they made.
Ane said he “wonnert the great Mr. Main,
Should lea sae gran' a place as Drury lane;
That he, an' a bit raggy chiel, thegither
'Might wanner through the lan' in sic like weather:”
While an auld wife said, “Bairns, tak' my advice,
An' gang na near the place, gif ye be wise;
For I can tell you wha ere sets a fit,
Within the barn, is bookit for the pit
Whilk has nae boddam; whare the wicked's soul,
'Mang burning brumstane lies, to roar an' howl,—
As Reverend Mr. Thump-the-Deil did say
In his discourse the tither Sabbath day.
Ye needna giggle, callans, it's as true
As I'm this precious minute telling you;
An' mair than that, ye'll maybe hae heard tell
What happened to a lad ca'd Andrew Bell,
Wha ance to Glasgow, to the warehouse gaed
(The chiel being a weaver to his trade).
Weel, in that town I trow he saw a sicht
That filled him mony a day wi' muckle fricht.
Some freens had gat him to gae to the Play,
In place o' doucely in the house to stay;
When in the nicht he waukent wi' the smell
O' brumstane, as I've heard him aften tell;
An' turnin' roun', what think ye that he saw?
Just the black Devil stan'in' at the wa',
Haudin' out in his han' a muckle book;
On whilk puir Andro did nae sooner look,
Than Clootie gied the puir lad a bit wink,
And pointed to his name—written wi' red ink;
As muckle as to say, at last, my chiel,
Ye hae been fairly gruppit by the Deil.”
She then gaed on to tell us, that if we
Gaed to the barn this nicht, we'd maybe see
Some o' her words ere lang wad come to pass:
An' then she shook her head, an' said—“Alas!
Sic unbelievin' times were never seen,
They werena like the guid aul' times that ance had been.”
By this time 'bout the bills were gathered roun';
An' as in crowds, they stood, an' at them read,
'Twas odd to hear the droll remarks they made.
Ane said he “wonnert the great Mr. Main,
Should lea sae gran' a place as Drury lane;
That he, an' a bit raggy chiel, thegither
'Might wanner through the lan' in sic like weather:”
While an auld wife said, “Bairns, tak' my advice,
An' gang na near the place, gif ye be wise;
For I can tell you wha ere sets a fit,
Within the barn, is bookit for the pit
Whilk has nae boddam; whare the wicked's soul,
'Mang burning brumstane lies, to roar an' howl,—
As Reverend Mr. Thump-the-Deil did say
In his discourse the tither Sabbath day.
Ye needna giggle, callans, it's as true
As I'm this precious minute telling you;
An' mair than that, ye'll maybe hae heard tell
What happened to a lad ca'd Andrew Bell,
Wha ance to Glasgow, to the warehouse gaed
(The chiel being a weaver to his trade).
Weel, in that town I trow he saw a sicht
That filled him mony a day wi' muckle fricht.
Some freens had gat him to gae to the Play,
In place o' doucely in the house to stay;
When in the nicht he waukent wi' the smell
O' brumstane, as I've heard him aften tell;
An' turnin' roun', what think ye that he saw?
Just the black Devil stan'in' at the wa',
Haudin' out in his han' a muckle book;
323
Than Clootie gied the puir lad a bit wink,
And pointed to his name—written wi' red ink;
As muckle as to say, at last, my chiel,
Ye hae been fairly gruppit by the Deil.”
She then gaed on to tell us, that if we
Gaed to the barn this nicht, we'd maybe see
Some o' her words ere lang wad come to pass:
An' then she shook her head, an' said—“Alas!
Sic unbelievin' times were never seen,
They werena like the guid aul' times that ance had been.”
But, faith, to me her lecture was in vain,
It didna keep me back frae Mr. Main;
For aff I set, an' comin' near the door,
There stood the Spouter, wha did loudly roar
To “Be in time, an' come right quickly in,
For I am just a-going to begin;
An' if you do not soon secure your places,
The door, ere long, will be shut in your faces.
An' if ye miss this opportunity,
The like of it ye ne'er again may see;
For I can tell you, 'tis not every day
Such a famed actor will a visit pay
Unto your town, for—” here I stopped his speech
By haudin' out a penny in his reach;
An', walkin' in, sat down before a screen
That in its day had ance a bed-mat been;
Although wi' dirt an' patches 'twas sae covered,
What it had been could scarcely be discovered.
It didna keep me back frae Mr. Main;
For aff I set, an' comin' near the door,
There stood the Spouter, wha did loudly roar
To “Be in time, an' come right quickly in,
For I am just a-going to begin;
An' if you do not soon secure your places,
The door, ere long, will be shut in your faces.
An' if ye miss this opportunity,
The like of it ye ne'er again may see;
For I can tell you, 'tis not every day
Such a famed actor will a visit pay
Unto your town, for—” here I stopped his speech
By haudin' out a penny in his reach;
An', walkin' in, sat down before a screen
That in its day had ance a bed-mat been;
Although wi' dirt an' patches 'twas sae covered,
What it had been could scarcely be discovered.
As soon as I had cast aroun' my een
I scarcely could believe what there was seen,
For that whilk had been made for to appear,
When in the bill, a “brilliant chandelier,”
Was just a girr, that frae the laft hung down
Wi' cannels here an' there stuck on't a' roun';
An' in place o' the instrumental ban',
Whilk was to have been unequalled in the lan',
Before the screen, wi' a bit fiddle, sat
His raggy laddie, ca'd Adolphus Sprat;
An' scruntit “Owre the hills an' far awa,”
In tones far waur than sharpenin' a saw;
An' I but tell the truth, whan I allege,
Ere lang he had set a' our teeth on edge.
“Stop that damn'd fiddle!” roared a kintra lout,
“Or by the Lord! ye'll hae to let me out;
I never heard sic scraichin' a' my life,
The soun' gangs through an' through ane, like a knife.”
“Up wi' the hippen!” cried anither chap,
An' then wi' feet and hands began to rap.
“What are ye chirtin' at?” anither cries,
“I want you to sit up,” the first replies;
“Ye hae as muckle room as ony twa
In that place there—between you an' the wa'.”
But “Silence, silence,” ilka ane did roar
As Mr. Main cam' in, an' shut the door;
An', loutin' down, creeped in behind the screen,
Whare he was hid frae the spectators' een.
I scarcely could believe what there was seen,
For that whilk had been made for to appear,
When in the bill, a “brilliant chandelier,”
Was just a girr, that frae the laft hung down
Wi' cannels here an' there stuck on't a' roun';
An' in place o' the instrumental ban',
Whilk was to have been unequalled in the lan',
324
His raggy laddie, ca'd Adolphus Sprat;
An' scruntit “Owre the hills an' far awa,”
In tones far waur than sharpenin' a saw;
An' I but tell the truth, whan I allege,
Ere lang he had set a' our teeth on edge.
“Stop that damn'd fiddle!” roared a kintra lout,
“Or by the Lord! ye'll hae to let me out;
I never heard sic scraichin' a' my life,
The soun' gangs through an' through ane, like a knife.”
“Up wi' the hippen!” cried anither chap,
An' then wi' feet and hands began to rap.
“What are ye chirtin' at?” anither cries,
“I want you to sit up,” the first replies;
“Ye hae as muckle room as ony twa
In that place there—between you an' the wa'.”
But “Silence, silence,” ilka ane did roar
As Mr. Main cam' in, an' shut the door;
An', loutin' down, creeped in behind the screen,
Whare he was hid frae the spectators' een.
Ere lang the tingle o' a bell was heard,
An' when the screen was drawn up, there appeared
The Spouter, wi' his arms on his breast crossed,
As if in deep reflection he was lost.
An' coming forret, he made a low bow,
Saying—“Gentlemen an' ladies, I will now
Begin the night's performance with some rhymes
Made on a circumstance of bye-past times;
Where an attempt is made, for once, to show
What dire effects of misery an' woe,
Such bloody feuds oft brought upon the Land.”
So saying, the Spouter raiséd up his hand;
An' while he towards the audience took a lamp,
Broucht down his richt foot wi' an awfu' stamp,
An' when the screen was drawn up, there appeared
The Spouter, wi' his arms on his breast crossed,
As if in deep reflection he was lost.
An' coming forret, he made a low bow,
Saying—“Gentlemen an' ladies, I will now
Begin the night's performance with some rhymes
Made on a circumstance of bye-past times;
Where an attempt is made, for once, to show
What dire effects of misery an' woe,
Such bloody feuds oft brought upon the Land.”
So saying, the Spouter raiséd up his hand;
An' while he towards the audience took a lamp,
Broucht down his richt foot wi' an awfu' stamp,
And thus began:—
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |