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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ACHTERTOOL. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
ACHTERTOOL.
From the village of Lessly, with a heart full of glee,
And my pack on my shoulders, I rambled out free;
Resolv'd that same ev'ning, as Luna was full,
To lodge ten miles distant, in old Achtertool.
And my pack on my shoulders, I rambled out free;
Resolv'd that same ev'ning, as Luna was full,
To lodge ten miles distant, in old Achtertool.
Thro' many a lone cottage and farmhouse I steer'd,
Took their money, and off with my budget I sheer'd;
The road I explor'd out, without form or rule,
Still asking the nearest to old Achtertool.
Took their money, and off with my budget I sheer'd;
The road I explor'd out, without form or rule,
Still asking the nearest to old Achtertool.
A clown I accosted, enquiring the road;
He stared like an ideot, then roar'd out “Gude God,
Gin ye're ga'n there for quarters, ye're surely a fool,
For there's nought but starvation in auld Achtertool.”
He stared like an ideot, then roar'd out “Gude God,
Gin ye're ga'n there for quarters, ye're surely a fool,
For there's nought but starvation in auld Achtertool.”
Unminding his nonsense, my march I pursu'd,
Till I came to a hill-top, where joyful I view'd,
Surrounded with mountains, and many a white pool,
The small smoky village of old Achtertool.
Till I came to a hill-top, where joyful I view'd,
Surrounded with mountains, and many a white pool,
The small smoky village of old Achtertool.
79
At length I arriv'd at the edge of the town,
As Phœbus behind a high mountain went down;
The clouds gather'd dreary, and weather blew foul,
And I hugg'd myself safe now in old Achtertool.
As Phœbus behind a high mountain went down;
The clouds gather'd dreary, and weather blew foul,
And I hugg'd myself safe now in old Achtertool.
An inn I enquir'd out, a lodging desir'd,
But the landlady's pertness seem'd instantly fir'd;
For she saucy reply'd, as she sat carding wool,
“I ne'er kept sic lodgers in auld Achtertool.”
But the landlady's pertness seem'd instantly fir'd;
For she saucy reply'd, as she sat carding wool,
“I ne'er kept sic lodgers in auld Achtertool.”
With scorn I soon left her to live on her pride,
But asking, was told there was none else beside,
Except an old weaver, who now kept a school,
And these were the whole that were in Achtertool.
But asking, was told there was none else beside,
Except an old weaver, who now kept a school,
And these were the whole that were in Achtertool.
To his mansion I scamper'd, and rapt at the door;
He op'd, but as soon as I dar'd to implore,
He shut it like thunder, and utter'd a howl,
That rung through each corner of old Achertool.
He op'd, but as soon as I dar'd to implore,
He shut it like thunder, and utter'd a howl,
That rung through each corner of old Achertool.
Provok'd now to fury, the domini I curst,
And offer'd to cudgel the wretch, if he durst;
But the door he fast bolted, though Boreas blew cool,
And left me all friendless in old Achtertool.
And offer'd to cudgel the wretch, if he durst;
But the door he fast bolted, though Boreas blew cool,
And left me all friendless in old Achtertool.
Depriv'd of all shelter, thro' darkness I trod,
Till I came to a ruin'd old house by the road;
Here the night I will spend, and inspir'd by the owl,
I'll send up some prayers for old Achtertool!
Till I came to a ruin'd old house by the road;
Here the night I will spend, and inspir'd by the owl,
I'll send up some prayers for old Achtertool!
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |