 | Poems and songs |  |
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PROLOGUE
TO THE SCOTS PASTORAL COMEDY OF “JAMIE AND BESS,”
Shame fa' me, but I'm blythe to see appear
Sic routh o' Reekie's lads an' lasses here,
Whan o' your presence sair we stand in need,
To lend a lift to your ain country leid;
That dauted leid, whilk Fame can weel attest,
Suits honest Scotia's aefauld bairns the best.
But, sad mishanter! now thae days are gane,
Whan Scotian callants kent nae leid but ane;
Whan her bauld sons (aye to their mither dear)
Wad never lout newfangled clack to hear:
Then could her sangsters loud their steven raise,
An' tune their aiten reeds to sound her praise.
Sic routh o' Reekie's lads an' lasses here,
Whan o' your presence sair we stand in need,
To lend a lift to your ain country leid;
That dauted leid, whilk Fame can weel attest,
Suits honest Scotia's aefauld bairns the best.
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Whan Scotian callants kent nae leid but ane;
Whan her bauld sons (aye to their mither dear)
Wad never lout newfangled clack to hear:
Then could her sangsters loud their steven raise,
An' tune their aiten reeds to sound her praise.
O 'twas for Scotia blythe an' canty days,
Whan Allan lilted on her gowany braes;
DearBard, whase fame has spread 'mang auld an' young,
Wha lo'ed his country while her praise he sung.
In hamely verse weel did it set the carle
To tell the ups an' downs into the warl':
Not only a' our actions gleg he'd tent,
But e'en our very thoughts he pat in prent.
Gin ony gowk sit dull an' dowf at hame,
He canna say that Ramsay is to blame;
Na, na!
Round ilka chimley-lug whare younkers thrive,
His pawky jokes keep mirth an' glee alive:
Syne he to safter strains his pipe could move,
As witness Pate an' Peggy's rural love.
If ever worth unfeigned regard could raise,
Thae twa are surely wordy o' our praise.
Unkent to guile, but to ilk ither dear,
Nae tinsel'd show their hefted love could steer;
Aft did their cracks beit Love's keen bleezing low,
Upon the gowany braes o' Habbie's How,
Whare “bonny Meg” sang sweet aneath the thorn,
While youthfu' Patie tuned his “stock an' horn;”
Whare ablins daffin wi' a heart fu' glad,
The shepherd rowed her in his haslock plaid;
Or stownlins kissed the blushing lassie's mou',
An' cheek-for-chow tauld o'er their love sae true,
While Innocence her mantle o'er them threw.
Whan Allan lilted on her gowany braes;
DearBard, whase fame has spread 'mang auld an' young,
Wha lo'ed his country while her praise he sung.
In hamely verse weel did it set the carle
To tell the ups an' downs into the warl':
Not only a' our actions gleg he'd tent,
But e'en our very thoughts he pat in prent.
Gin ony gowk sit dull an' dowf at hame,
He canna say that Ramsay is to blame;
Na, na!
Round ilka chimley-lug whare younkers thrive,
His pawky jokes keep mirth an' glee alive:
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As witness Pate an' Peggy's rural love.
If ever worth unfeigned regard could raise,
Thae twa are surely wordy o' our praise.
Unkent to guile, but to ilk ither dear,
Nae tinsel'd show their hefted love could steer;
Aft did their cracks beit Love's keen bleezing low,
Upon the gowany braes o' Habbie's How,
Whare “bonny Meg” sang sweet aneath the thorn,
While youthfu' Patie tuned his “stock an' horn;”
Whare ablins daffin wi' a heart fu' glad,
The shepherd rowed her in his haslock plaid;
Or stownlins kissed the blushing lassie's mou',
An' cheek-for-chow tauld o'er their love sae true,
While Innocence her mantle o'er them threw.
Sic tales as thae frae honest Ramsay came,
The lasting basis o' his future fame.
Sure, whan he died (Praise keep his saul aye safe!)
The Scottish Muse was e'en but poorly aff;
For 'twas her wish, that quickly should be seen
Anither Pate an' Peg to grace the green.
But, waesucks! fient a bard that she could ask
W[illeg.]tak upon him sic a kittle task;
Alleging Allan had the flow'rets a'
Frae Nature pu'd to grace his lovely twa,
An' nane remained to busk a pair sae braw.
The lasting basis o' his future fame.
Sure, whan he died (Praise keep his saul aye safe!)
The Scottish Muse was e'en but poorly aff;
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Anither Pate an' Peg to grace the green.
But, waesucks! fient a bard that she could ask
W[illeg.]tak upon him sic a kittle task;
Alleging Allan had the flow'rets a'
Frae Nature pu'd to grace his lovely twa,
An' nane remained to busk a pair sae braw.
At length an' lang, in tartan dress arrayed,
The Muse, right dowie, to our author gaed;
For though she heretofore had luckless been,
She hoped in him to find a feckfu' frien'.
Her tale she tauld, an' syne made her request;
Sweet were her looks, though e'en but hamely drest.
Say, ye wha guide us wi' propitious hand,
Wha could refuse the lassie's fair demand?
A dowfart might—but Andry, ever leal,
In Scotia's cause had aye a heart to feel.
At ance he wi' the Muse's wish complied,
For her dear sake, whate'er might him betide;
Resolved, wi' Ramsay for his pattern, soon,
That he wad “spoil a horn, or mak a spoon.”
The Muse, right dowie, to our author gaed;
For though she heretofore had luckless been,
She hoped in him to find a feckfu' frien'.
Her tale she tauld, an' syne made her request;
Sweet were her looks, though e'en but hamely drest.
Say, ye wha guide us wi' propitious hand,
Wha could refuse the lassie's fair demand?
A dowfart might—but Andry, ever leal,
In Scotia's cause had aye a heart to feel.
At ance he wi' the Muse's wish complied,
For her dear sake, whate'er might him betide;
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That he wad “spoil a horn, or mak a spoon.”
This night their daddie, wi' submission due,
Will show his lad an' lassie baith to you;
For now, as patrons wha show friendship rare,
He trusts his little offspring to your care.
O guide them weel! (they're in their teens just now)
An' they may soon to fame unspotted grow.
Then, then will Andry blythely dance an' sing,
An' ca't the brawest feather in his wing.
Will show his lad an' lassie baith to you;
For now, as patrons wha show friendship rare,
He trusts his little offspring to your care.
O guide them weel! (they're in their teens just now)
An' they may soon to fame unspotted grow.
Then, then will Andry blythely dance an' sing,
An' ca't the brawest feather in his wing.
To you, ye blooming Fair, sae sweet an' gay,
Like scented flowers in bonny month o' May,
Ye little witches, wha sae eithly can
Keep up an' cheer the very saul o' Man—
To you the Poet now submits his fate,
An' for your verdict will submissive wait;
Convinced, that if he gain your kind applause,
The Lads will follow, an' support his cause:
For true's the tale, whare lasses sweet are seen,
There will the callants thrang around bedeen.
O then support him wi' approving smile,
An' wi' your beams reward the Muse's toil:
If ye are pleased, he'll court nae Critic's grace,
But snap his fingers in his girning face.
Like scented flowers in bonny month o' May,
Ye little witches, wha sae eithly can
Keep up an' cheer the very saul o' Man—
To you the Poet now submits his fate,
An' for your verdict will submissive wait;
Convinced, that if he gain your kind applause,
The Lads will follow, an' support his cause:
For true's the tale, whare lasses sweet are seen,
There will the callants thrang around bedeen.
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An' wi' your beams reward the Muse's toil:
If ye are pleased, he'll court nae Critic's grace,
But snap his fingers in his girning face.
An' now ae favour mair;—O be sae kind
As grant indulgence to our Youths behind;
For though we'll strive to gain your approbation,
We'll ablins fa' short o' your expectation.
But, sirs, I'll haud my tongue, nor langer stay:
Ye're the best judges; I've nae mair to say.
As grant indulgence to our Youths behind;
For though we'll strive to gain your approbation,
We'll ablins fa' short o' your expectation.
But, sirs, I'll haud my tongue, nor langer stay:
Ye're the best judges; I've nae mair to say.
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