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 | The Siller Gun, A Poem in Five Cantos. By John Mayne |  |
xviii
1
THE SILLER GUN.
CANTO FIRST.
THE GATHERING, AND THE MARCH.
3
I
For loyal feats, and trophies won,Dumfries shall live till time be done!
Ae Simmer's morning, wi' the sun,
The Seven Trades there,
Forgather'd, for their Siller Gun
To shoot ance mair!
4
II
To shoot ance mair in grand array,And celebrate the King's Birth-day,
Crowds, happy in the gentle sway
Of ane sae dear,
Were proud their fealty to display,
And marshal here!
III
O, George! the wale o'Kings and men!For thee, in daily prayer, we bend!
With ilka blessing Heaven can send
May'st thou be crown'd;
And may thy race our rights defend,
The warld around!
5
IV
For weeks before this Féte sae clever,The fowk were in a perfect fever,
Scouring gun-barrels in the river—
At marks practising—
Marching wi' drums and fifes for ever—
A' sodgerizing!
V
And turning coats, and mending breeks,New-seating where the sark-tail keeks;
(Nae matter though the clout that eeks
Be black or blue;)
And darning, with a thousand steeks,
The hose anew!
6
VI
Between the last and this occasion,Lang, unco lang, seem'd the vacation,
To him wha wooes sweet recreation
In Nature's prime;
And him wha likes a day's potation
At ony time!
VII
The lift was clear, the morn serene,The sun just glinting owr the scene,
When James M'Noe began again
To beat to arms,
Rouzing the heart o'man and wean
Wi' War's alarms!
7
VIII
Frae far and near, the country lads,(Their joes ahint them on their yads,)
Flock'd in to see the show in squads;
And, what was dafter,
Their pawky mithers and their dads
Cam trotting after!
IX
And mony a beau and belle were there,Doited wi' dozing on a chair;
For, lest they'd, sleeping, spoil their hair,
Or miss the sight,
The gowks, like bairns before a fair,
Sat up a' night!
8
X
Wi' hats as black as ony raven,Fresh as the rose, their beards new shaven,
And a' their Sunday's cleeding having
Sae trim and gay,
Forth cam our Trades, some ora saving
To wair that day.
XI
Fair fa' ilk canny, caidgy carl,Weel may he bruik his new apparel!
And never dree the bitter snarl
O' scowling wife!
But, blest in pantry, barn, and barrel,
Be blithe through life!
9
XII
Hegh, Sirs! what crowds cam into town,To see them must'ring up and down!
Lasses and lads, sun-burnt and brown—
Women and weans,
Gentle and semple, mingling, crown,
The gladsome scenes!
XIII
At first, forenent ilk Deacon's hallan,His ain brigade was made to fall in;
And, while the muster-roll was calling,
And joybells jowing,
Het-pints, weel spic'd, to keep the saul in,
Around were flowing!
10
XIV
Broil'd kipper, cheese and bread, and ham,Laid the foundation for a dram
O' whisky, gin frae Rotterdam,
Or cherry brandy;
Whilk after, a' was fish that cam
To Jock, or Sandy:
XV
O! weel ken they wha loo their chappin,Drink maks the auldest swack and strappin;
Gars Care forget the ills that happen—
The blate look spruce—
And ev'n the thowless cock their tappin,
And craw fu' croose!
11
XVI
The muster owr, the diff'rent bandsFile aff, in parties, to the Sands;
Where, 'mid loud laughs and clapping hands,
Gley'd Geordy Smith
Reviews them, and their line expands
Alang the Nith!
XVII
But ne'er, for uniform or air,Was sic a group review'd elsewhere!
The short, the tall; fat fowk, and spare;
Syde coats, and dockit;
Wigs, queus, and clubs, and curly hair;
Round hats, and cockit!
12
XVIII
As to their guns—thae fell engines,Borrow'd or begg'd, were of a' kinds
For bloody war, or bad designs,
Or shooting cushies—
Lang fowling-pieces, carabines,
And blunder-busses!
XIX
Maist feck, though oil'd to mak them glimmer,Hadna been shot for mony a Simmer;
And Fame, the story-telling kimmer,
Jocosely hints
That some o' them had bits o' timmer,
Instead o' flints!
13
XX
Some guns, she threeps, within her ken,Were spik'd, to let nae priming ben;
And, as in twenty there were ten
Worm-eaten stocks,
Sae, here and there, a rozit-end
Held on their locks!
XXI
And then, to show what diff'rence standsAtween the leaders and their bands,
Swords that, unsheath'd, since Prestonpans,
Neglected lay,
Were furbish'd up, to grace the hands
O' Chiefs, this day!
14
XXII
“Ohon!” says George, and ga'e a grane,“The age o' chivalry is gane!”
Syne, having owr and owr again
The hale survey'd,
Their route, and a' things else, made plain,
He snuff'd, and said:
XXIII
“Now, Gentlemen! now mind the motion,“And dinna, this time, mak a botion:
“Shouther your arms!—O! ha'd them tosh on,
“And not athraw!
“Wheel wi' your left-hands to the ocean,
“And march awa!”
15
XXIV
Wi' that, the dinlin drums rebound,Fifes, clarionets, and hautboys sound!
Through crowds on crowds, collected round,
The Corporations
Trudge aff, while Echo's self is drown'd
In acclamations!
XXV
Their steps to martial airs agreeing,And a' the Seven-Trades' Colours fleeing,
Bent for the Craigs, O! weel worth seeing!
They hied awa;
Their bauld Convener proud o'being
The Chief owr a'!
16
XXVI
Attended by his body-guard,He stepp'd in gracefu'ness unpair'd!
Straught as the poplar on the swaird,
And strong as Sampson,
Nae ee cou'd look without regard
On Robin Tamson!
XXVII
His Craft, the Hammermen, fu' braw,Led the Procession, twa and twa:
The leddies wav'd their napkins a',
And boys huzzay'd,
As onward, to the Waponshaw,
They stately strade!
17
XXVIII
Close to the Hammermen, behold,The Squaremen come like chiefs of old!
The Weavers, syne, their flags unfold;
And, after them,
The Taylors walk, erect and bold,
Intent on fame!
XXIX
The Sutors, o' King Crispin vain,March next in turn to the campaign;
And, while the crowd applauds again,
See, too, the Tanners,
Extending far the glitt'ring train
O' guns and banners!
18
XXX
The Fleshers, on this joyous day,Bring up the rereward in array:
Enarm'd, they mak a grand display—
A' jolly chiels,
Able, in ony desp'rate fray,
To feght like de'ils!
XXXI
The Journeymen were a' sae gaucy,Th' Apprentices sae kir and saucy,
That, as they gaed alang the causey,
Ahint them a',
Th' applauding heart o' mony a lassie
Was stown awa!
19
XXXII
Brisk as a bridegroom gawn to wed,Ilk Deacon his battalion led:
Foggies the zig-zag followers sped,
But scarce had pow'r
To keep some, fitter for their bed,
Frae stoit'ring owr.
XXXIII
For, blithsome Sir John BarleycornHad charm'd them sae, this Simmer's morn,
That, what wi'drams, and mony a horn,
And reaming bicker,
The ferly is, withouten scorn,
They walk'd sae sicker
20
XXXIV
As through the town their banners fly,Frae windows low, frae windows high,
A' that cou'd find a neuk to spy,
Were leaning o'er:
The streets, stair-heads, and carts, forbye,
Were a' uproar!
XXXV
Frae the Freer's Vennel, through and through,Care seem'd to've bid Dumfries adieu!
Housewives forgat to bake, or brew,
Owrjoy'd, the while,
To view their friends, a' marching now
In warlike style!
21
XXXVI
To see his face whom she loo'd best,Hab's wife was there amang the rest;
And, as, wi' joy, her sides she prest,
Like mony mae,
Her exultation was exprest
In words like thae:
XXXVII
“Wow! but it maks ane's heart lowp light“To see auld fowk sae cleanly dight!
“E'en now, our Habby seems as tight
“As when, lang syne,
“His looks were first the young delight
“And pride o' mine!”
22
XXXVIII
But on the meeker maiden's part,Deep sighs alane her love assert!
Deep sighs, the language o' the heart,
Will aft reveal
A flame whilk a' the gloss of art
Can ne'er conceal!
XXXIX
Frae rank to rank while thousands hustle,In front, like waving corn, they rustle;
Where, dangling like a baby's whustle,
The Siller Gun,
The royal cause of a' this bustle,
Gleam'd in the sun!
23
XL
Suspended frae a painted pole,A glimpse o't sae inspir'd the whole,
That auld and young, wi' heart and soul,
Their heads were cocking,
Keen as ye've seen, at bridals droll,
Maids catch the stocking!
XLI
In honour o' this gaudy thing,And eke in honour o' the King,
A fouth o' flow'rs the Gard'ners bring,
And frame sweet posies
Of a' the relics o' the Spring,
And Simmer's roses!
24
XLII
Amang the flow'ry forms they weave,There's Adam to the life, and Eve:
She, wi' the apple in her neeve,
Enticing Adam;
While Satan's laughing in his sleeve,
At him and madam!
XLIII
The lily white, the vi'let blue,The heather-bells of azure hue,
Heart's-ease for lovers kind and true,
Whate'er their lot,
And that dear flow'r, to Friendship due,
“Forget me not”—
25
XLIV
A' thae, and wi' them, mingled now,Pinks and carnations, not a few,
Fresh garlands, glitt'ring wi' the dew,
And yellow broom,
Athort the scented welkin threw
A rich perfume!
XLV
Perfume, congenial to the clime,The sweetest in the sweetest time!
The merry bells, in jocund chime,
Rang through the air,
And Minstrels play'd, in strains sublime,
To charm the Fair!
26
XLVI
And fairer than our Nithsdale Fair,Or handsomer, there's nane elsewhere!
Pure as the streams that murmur there,
In them ye'll find
That Virtue and the Graces rare
Are a' enshrin'd!
XLVII
Lang may the bonny bairns reclineOn Plenty's bosom, saft and kind!
And, O! may I, ere Life shall dwine
To its last scene,
Return, and a' my sorrows tine
At hame again!
27
CANTO SECOND.
ARRIVAL AT THE FIELD—BEGINNING OF THE COMPETITION—SURROUNDING SCENERY.
29
I
Now, through the Kirkgate Port, the thrangO' men in arms proceed alang:
Behold them, while the cymbals' clang
Resounds afar,
In a' the pomp, without the pang,
Or waes of war!
30
II
Aff to the Craigs, the hale forenoon,By the best paths to get there soon,
Crowds after crowds were flocking down,
In nines, and tens,
Deserting, fast, the bonniest town
That Scotia kens!
III
O happy they wha, up twa story,Saw the Procession in its glory!
Alang the roads it left out o'er ye,
Sic clouds o' stoor,
Ye cou'dna see ye'r thoomb before ye
For ha'f an hour!
31
IV
Where the lang train of armour gleams,Bright Phœbus shone in scorching beams:
Parch'd up wi' heat, nae caller streams
To weet their hasses,
The Squadrons grein'd for ale that reams
Frae Jenny Gass's!
V
They wha had corns, or broken wind,Begood to pegh and limp behind:
Laith to sit down, and still inclin'd
To try their pith,
“I hope we'll dance yet, ere we've din'd,”
Cries Geordy Smith.
32
VI
To cheer them wha began to fag,The Minstrels lows'd Apollo's bag,
And lilted up, though still they lag,
The Reel o' Boggie,
And Willy was a wanton wag,
Wi' Kath'rine Oggie!
VII
But Bruce's March to Bannockburn,To leave his banes in Freedom's urn,
Or, glorious and triumphant, spurn
Intended thraldom,
Sae rais'd their hearts, at ilka turn,
That nought cou'd hald them!
33
VIII
O! blessings on King Robert's name!On Wallace, and Sir John the Græme!
While Freedom dare assert her claim,
Or Virtue blossom,
Wallace and Bruce will aye enflame
The Patriot bosom!
IX
A' this and mair, baith ane and a',They seem'd to say, and croosely craw:
Out owr the hills and far awa,
The Pipers play'd;
And, roaring like a water-fa',
The crowd huzzay'd!
34
X
The Craigs, with ivy mantled round,Re-echo'd back the jocund sound;
And, as the Troops approach'd the ground,
Araise to view
Like some sweet islands, newly found,
In fair Pelew!
XI
Syne, louder grew the busy humO' friends rejoicing as they come:
Wi' double vir the drummers drum,
The pint-stowps clatter,
And bowls o'negus, milk and rum,
Flow round like water!
35
XII
“Tak a gude waught—I'm sure ye're weary,”Says Anny Kaillie to her deary:
John, fain to see his wife sae cheary,
Indulg'd the fun,
Gat fu', and dander'd lang and eerie,
And tint his gun—
XIII
And miss'd, mairowr, th' endearing charms(The very thought ilk bosom warms!)
Of auld acquaintances in swarms,
Meeting like brithers,
And wee-things giggling in the arms
O' their fond mithers!
36
XIV
And bonny lasses, tight and clean,Buskit to please their ain lads' een—
Lasses, whase faces, as the scene
Its tints discloses,
In glowing sweetness intervene,
Like living roses!
XV
Convener Tamson's troop, the while,Prepare for action in great style:
The laive their various firelocks pile,
By three and three,
And, 'tween ilk corps, for ha'f a mile,
Their banners flee!
37
XVI
The drums and fifes a flourish made;Three loud huzzas the menyie gaed,
And clear'd the stance, that ilka blade
The mark might view,
Far glist'ning, circled white and red,
Wi' spraings o' blue!
XVII
In mingled prospect, on the plainThat parts the Maiden-Craigs in twain,
Craems, ginge-bread-stawns, legerdemain,
And raree-shows,
Entic'd young sparks to entertain,
And treat their joes.
38
XVIII
For fear o' scant, whilk aften marsThe best o' projects in the wars,
Provisions, Ferrintosh in jars,
And casks o' beer,
Were rang'd, like batteries, on cars,
In front and rear!
XIX
Then there were tents, where, frank and free,On divot-seats, sae coziely,
Auld birkies, innocently slee,
Wi' cap and stowp,
Were e'en as blithe as blithe cou'd be—
A' fit to lowp!
39
XX
Pleas'd, they recount, wi' meikle joy,How aft they've been at sic a ploy;
Descrive past scenes; re-act the boy,
And a' his wheems:
Sweet days of youth, without alloy,
Like fairy dreams!
XXI
And mony a crack, and gallant tale,'Bout bauld forebears, sae stark and hale,
Inspir'd their breasts with ardent zeal,
While, circling round,
The reaming cogs o' nappy ale
Gaed glibber down!
40
XXII
Yet, now and then, a silent tear,For friends departed, kindred dear,
Friends, wha were aye the foremost here,
Bedew'd ilk cheek,
Mair eloquent, in grief sincere,
Than tongue can speak!
XXIII
Amang auld cronies, Geordy SmithDiscours'd of war with a' his pith:
Siege follow'd siege, till kin and kith
Were grown sae frisky,
They wou'd have drank the river Nith
Had it been whisky!
41
XXIV
To war accustom'd when a boy,A sodger's life was still his joy—
First, in the ranks at Fontenoy,
And, mony a year,
Like Hector on the plains o' Troy,
A gen'ral here!
XXV
When a' the Hammermen, sae bright,Had charged their guns, like men o' might,
Convener Tamson, wi' delight,
The sport began;
And never yet was belted knight
A blither man!
42
XXVI
Meantime, the younkers on the green,In merry rounds are dancing seen:
Wi' rapture sparkling in their een,
They mind, fu' weel,
The sappy kiss, and squeeze, between
Ilk blithesome reel!
XXVII
And, as the Highland Flings begin,Their heels grow lighter wi' the din:
They smack their hands; and, chin to chin,
They cut and caper:
Ev'n the bye-standers figure in,
And flounce, and vapour!
43
XXVIII
The Minstrels there, were, Sandy Brown,The Piper o' Lochmaben town:
Though whozzling sair, and cruppen down,
Auld Sanders seem'd,
His chaunter, for its cheering sound,
Was aye esteem'd.
XXIX
Jock Willison, a Sutor bred,Wha, for the fiddle, left his trade,
Jigg'd it far better than he sped,
For, oh! poor Jock
Cou'd ne'er gang soberly to bed,
Like other fo'k:
44
XXX
Blind-fu,' at weddings, or a dance,He'd play, though like ane in a trance;
And then, for feghting, Jock wou'd prance
At fair, or market,
And box whaever durst advance,
Till they were yarkit!
XXXI
Yet Jock was as humane as brave,And aften for the helpless strave:
To snatch the drowning frae the wave,
He'd quickly dive,
And to a weeping mither save
Her bairn alive!
45
XXXII
To hear John Bruce exert his skill,Ye'd never grudge anither gill:
O! how he scorn'd th' Italian trill,
And variations;
And gart his thairm-strings speak, at will,
True Scots vibrations!
XXXIII
Nor was it only for a reelThat Johnny was belov'd sae weel:
He loo'd his friend, was aye genteel,
And, what's far mair,
John to his Prince was true and leal,
Ev'n in despair!
46
XXXIV
But wha's he lilting in the rear,Sae saft, sae tunefu', and sae clear?
It's Dingwall, to the Muses dear,
Whase modest merit
Was sae represt for want o' gear,
Care crush'd his spirit!
XXXV
Aft, when the Waits were playing by,I've mark'd his viol with a sigh,
Soothing lorn lovers, where they lie,
To visions sweet—
Saft as a mither's lullaby,
When babies greet!
47
XXXVI
The bonny Bush abune Traquair,And Mary Scott of Yarrow, fair;
Tweedside, and O! I wish I were
Where Helen lies!
He play'd in tones that suit Despair,
When Beauty dies!
XXXVII
But, 'twere owr lang to reckon a'The strains he play'd, sae saft and slaw—
Strains o' the Minstrels, now awa,
Sweetest and last
Memorials, like our Waponshaw,
Of ages past!
48
XXXVIII
By this time, now, wi' mony a dunder,Auld guns were brattling aff like thunder:
Three parts o' whilk, in ilka hunder,
Did sae recoil,
That collar-banes gat mony a lunder,
In this turmoil!
XXXIX
Wide o' the mark, as if to scar us,The bullets ripp'd the swaird like harrows;
And, fright'ning a' the craws and sparrows
About the place,
Ramrods were fleeing thick as arrows
At Chevy Chace!
49
XL
Yet still, as through the tents we steer,Unmov'd the festive groups appear:
Lads oxter lasses, without fear,
Or dance like wud;
Blithe, when the guns gaed aff sae queer,
To hear the thud!
XLI
Disporting in the sunny beam,When gentler mates are in a breem,
Some seek the shade, and some the stream,
And banquet there
On strawberries, or cruds and cream,
And country fare!
50
XLII
O! wi' what glee the Muse stravaigsOwr a' the beauties o' the Craigs!—
Forgetting a' the ills and plagues
That aft harass us,
She scours the hills and dales, for leagues,
Round this Parnassus!
XLIII
Sweet spot! how happy ha'e I beenSeeking birds'-nests with eager een;
Or, pu'ing gowans on the green,
Where waving corn,
Blue-bells and roses, fringe the scene,
And flow'ring thorn!
51
XLIV
Yonder the lads and lasses group,To see the luckless Lover's-lowp:
Wae's me that disappointed Houp,
That cruel blight,
Shou'd drive fowk frae this warld to scoup
To endless night!
XLV
Beneath yon cliff, high beetling owr,Is chaste Diana's Maiden-Bow'r:
There, sacred to the guardian Pow'r,
A tablet stands,
Inscrib'd by a' wha make that tour,
In true-love's bands!
52
XLVI
Sae strait and narrow is the way,Nane but pure virgins enter may:
And, O! it's droll, in this essay,
When flirts, alack!
Their wee infirmities betray,
By turning back!
XLVII
Censorious Bess, that dorty dame,Cam here to carve her lover's name;
But Bessy, having been to blame
For failings, too,
Had nearly gane to her lang hame,
In squeezing through!
53
XLVIII
Hither, forbye the young and fair,Grave matrons come to tak the air;
Ev'n gentry, and the sons o' care,
Resort, a-wee,
To view, around, the beauties rare
By land and sea!
XLIX
At tide-time, with an anxious mind,The sailor's wife, lang left behind,
Looks for her love with ilka wind,
And watches here
Ship after ship, to Nith consign'd,
Till he appear!
54
L
Behold, far hence, in sylvan charms,Cots, country-seats, kirk-towns, and farms!
Hills, circling wide, wi' sheep in swarms;
And mould'ring tow'rs,
Famous, langsyne, for chiefs in arms,
And potent pow'rs!
LI
Imbower'd around, how sweet to spyCorn-rigs and orchards laughing lie!
Dumfries, wi' steeples to the sky,
And ships in crowds,
And Criffel-hill ascending high
Amang the clouds!
55
LII
Lo! glitt'ring onward to the sea,The stream that gave the Muse to me!
Pure stream, on whase green banks, wi' glee,
In Life's sweet morn,
I chac'd the gaudy butterflee,
Ere Care was born!
LIII
O! though it's mony a langsome year,Since, fu' o' care, and scant o' gear,
I left thy banks, sweet Nith, sae dear,
This heart o' mine
Lowps light whene'er I think or hear
O' thee, or thine!
56
LIV
In Seed-time, when thy Farmers saw,In Simmer, when thy roses blaw;
In Harvest, or in frost and snaw,
When Winter low'rs,
My heart and mind are with ye a'—
For ever your's!
57
CANTO THIRD.
THE MULTITUDE ASSEMBLED—MOST PROMINENT CHARACTERS—THE FEAST—CONTINUATION OF THE COMPETITION—NOBLE DARING OF THE PEOPLE UNDER THE THREAT OF INVASION.
59
I
Still crowding to the Waponshaw,O! what a swarm o' great and sma'!
See them, owr ditches, dykes, and a',
Exulting, spang,
Eager to join, wi' loud huzza,
The jocund thrang!
60
II
As customers cam flocking in,The ale-wives thought it nae great sin
To order fresh supplies o' gin,
For, drouthy throttles
Had left nought o' the meikle bin
But empty bottles!
III
Hegh! what a concourse now appearsO' horse, and foot, and charioteers!
Farmers, and lairds, and a' their dears—
A' ranks, and stations,
Parading on, while music cheers
The Corporations!
61
IV
Wi' scores o' gentlemen, and mair,Wha come their townsmen's joys to share,
See brave Sir Robert Laurie there,
And Eldershaw,
And young Terraughtie, worthies rare,
Belov'd by 'a!
V
Terraughtie, here a welcome guest,Was hail'd wi' raptures aft exprest:
Ten thousand tongues his worth confest—
A Patriot leal,
The object dearest to his breast
The commonweal!
62
VI
Amang the crowd was Johnny Gass,Kend through Dumfries by lad and lass:
Rever'd abune the common class,
Up late and air,
John had seen saxty Simmers pass,
A barber there!
VII
The chronicle o' former years,At him ilk ane some question speers;
But when they spak of auld forebears,
Now dead and gane,
John answer'd only wi' his tears,
Or made a mane!
63
VIII
“Oh, Sirs!” says he, wi' heavy granes,“How quickly man to age attains!
“I mind yon leddies when but weans,
“In leading-strings,
“And now their oys can dance their lanes,
“In fairy-rings!”
IX
O! wha, amang the Wrights, is heThat seems, for grace, to bear the gree?
“It's Roby Kemp: in him you see,
“On Virtue's plan,
“The traits o'true nobility—
“An honest man!”
64
X
For honest men, the crowd exclaim,Lang may our Trades preserve their name!
“And if,” cries John, “at wealth they aim,
“Like Richie Howat,
“May they bring gowd-in-gowpins hame,
“And credit to it!
XI
“To make a spune, or spoil a horn,“He left Dumfries ae dowy morn,
“Gaed far frae hame, return'd wi' corn,
“And wine, and oil,
“And, glad to live where he was born,
“Tills his ain soil!”
65
XII
And wha's he on the milk-white steed?“Wae's me!” quo' John, and shook his head:
“The gout has marr'd George Johnston's speed,
“Since, in our garden,
“We ran, when boys, for gingerbread,
“Wi' Johnny Jardine.
XIII
“Cracking his jokes wi' friends sae kirry,“Here's Deacon Threshie, wise and merry;
“And yonder's blameless Willy Berry,
“The leddies' glover,
“At five-and-fifty, bright as sherry,
“And still a lover!
66
XIV
“Sedately joining in the game,“James Hutchison now taks his aim:
“An Architect o'meikle fame;
“Wha plans wi' care;
“And builds his hopes o'bliss supreme
“On praise and pray'r.
XV
“Neist rank to him, see Deacon Gowdy,“In velvet coat as black's a mowdy:
“A gawcier man ne'er suppit crowdy,
“Did what was right,
“Or lov'd Freemasonry, uncloudy,
“Wi' mair delight.
67
XVI
“See, also, arm'd wi' sword and spear,“M'Ghee, our ain town's-bairn, draws near!
“Sirs! when the Highlandmen were here,
“In Forty-five,
“His father gart them flee for fear,
“And skulk belyve!
XVII
“Sent out disguis'd in Bedesman's gown,“To watch the foe near Annan town,
“There, ere he weel had sitten down,
“Or fed his filly,
“Unwelcome news was buzz'd around,
“About Duke Willie.
68
XVIII
“Back to Dumfries, in dread the while,“He brought in word, that, mony a mile,
“King George's Army, frae Carlisle,
“Had cross'd the Border:
“They come, cried he, in rank and file,
“And battle-order!
XIX
“This news, first told him as a hum,“Suin gart the Highlanders look glum:
“At night, when a' was dark and dumb,
“They vanish'd fairly,
“And never mair, wi' pipe and drum,
“Saw we Prince Charlie!
69
XX
“Yet, ere his flight, to our great skaith,“He levied fines; and, by my faith,
“Glenriddel and our Provost, baith,
“Awa were ta'en,
“As hostages, on pain o' death,
“To pay the Kain.
XXI
“Albeit they werena lang detain'd,“Our purse, to ransome them, was drain'd:
“Syne, having liberty regain'd,
“They canter'd hame,
“And, through a weel-spent life, sustain'd
“An honour'd name!
70
XXII
“True to their Country, King, and Law,“My blessings on our Burghers a'!
“O! never, in their Kirk or Ha',
“May Party-strife,
“Dissolving bosom-friends in twa,
“Vex man or wife!”
XXIII
But wha, amang the lookers-on,With aspect meek and mild is yon?
He's, sure, the sire o' mony a son,
If ane may guess
By them wha seem to watch the tone
He wou'd express!
71
XXIV
“That's Doctor Chapman!—shav'd by me,”Quo' John, “thir thretty years and three:
“He and his boarders come to see,
“Ere a' be done,
“Our ance-in-seven-years' Jubilee,
“The Siller Gun!”
XXV
A Scholar there, wi' loud acclaim,Did homage to the good man's name:
“Led by the lustre o' his fame,
“Frae far and near,
“Lords, lairds, and nabobs, quit their hame,
“To study here!
72
XXVI
“Nor is it only classic lair,“Mere Greek and Latin, and nae mair:
“Chapman, wi' fond parental care,
“Has lair combin'd
“With a' the gems and jewels rare
“That deck the mind!
XXVII
“O! had I follow'd up the plan“His sage instructions first began!
“The race which my school-fellows ran,
“Like stars to shine,
“And a' that elevates the man,
“Had now been mine!”
73
XXVIII
Full o' his auld Preceptor's praise,Around the Craigs the Scholar strays:
Blithe, after a' his thorny ways,
Retracing here
The gowden scenes of early days—
For ever dear!
XXIX
Returning hame, when time and careHa'e bleach'd, in foreign lands, our hair,
How sweet to breathe our native air,
And talk of joys,
And pleasures past, and friendships rare,
When we were boys!
74
XXX
Thrice happy they wha claim our meed,As men of worth, or friends in need!
Lang has thy name, benignant Reid,
Exalted stood,
For thou, in heart, and mind, and deed,
Art great, and good!
XXXI
The next, for worth, endear'd to me,And dear to a', is Sandy Key:
Like Reid, benevolent and free,
Withouten pride,
Kind to his Countrymen is he,
And a' beside!
75
XXXII
With other friends, o' great desert,Wha nobly act, through life, their part,
There's Hutchison, wi' kindly heart,
And right gude-will,
A Master o' the healing Art,
Wi' meikle skill:
XXXIII
At Hampton, jocular and gay,Is health-restoring Halliday;
Wha, making Providence his stay,
Wi' firm endeavour,
Frae Camps to Courts, attain'd his way
To royal Favour:
76
XXXIV
Link'd in th' Æsculapian train,Whom Nithsdale boasts of as her ain,
Hyslop, wha ne'er prescribes in vain,
Affords a sample
How much a family may gain
By gude example!
XXXV
O' men belanging to the Law,John Aikin was the flow'r owr a':
Like Andrew Crosbie, now awa,
His auld class-fellow,
Through kittle points he clearly saw,
Though sometimes mellow!
77
XXXVI
O! for a Muse, upon her throne,To sing o' vent'rous Clapperton,
Intrepid Ross, and Richardson,
Wha bade defiance
To Ice-bergs, or the Torrid Zone,
In aid o' Science!
XXXVII
Frae India, to our bonny town,Craigdarroch comes wi' high renown:
The Malcolms, too, we proudly own—
Four brother-wights,
A' stedfast servants o' the Crown—
A' belted knights!
78
XXXVIII
In times when War, frae year to year,Call'd forth our Armies, far and near,
Learn'd Pasley, Vict'ry's Pioneer,
Before them sped,
Or join'd them in their brave career,
Where Glory led!
XXXIX
To rank amang our men o' fame,Telford upholds a double claim:
O' fabrics of a splendid frame,
The Engineer—
In Poesy, a Poet's name,
To Eskdale dear!
79
XL
But what has been a source o' gainTo Commerce and her num'rous train,
Sage Miller, o' Dalswinton's plain,
By Nith's sweet stream,
First broach'd the Art to plough the main,
Propell'd by steam!
XLI
Sons o' the soil frae whilk we came,We've mony mae whom we cou'd name,
And, wi' them, Allan Cunningham,
Wha fondly try
To reach the pinnacle o' Fame,
However high!
80
XLII
Hail, kindred Spirits! ane and a',Men of account, without a flaw!
Pushing your fortunes, far awa,
Or, fu' o' glee,
Rejoicing at our Waponshaw,
Dumfries, wi' thee!
XLIII
How beautiful, on yonder green,The tents wi' dancing pairs between!
In front, though banners intervene,
And guns are rattling!
There's nought but happiness, I ween,
In a' this battling!
81
XLIV
For miles, by people over-run,The air resounds wi' mirth and fun:
Frae grave to gay, frae sire to son,
And great to sma',
The shooting for the Siller Gun
Delights them a'!
XLV
Behold the concourse, here and there,Gaffawing till their sides are sair!
See, as the balls whiz through the air,
Yon thoughtless wights
Careering till they find out where
Ilk bullet lights!
82
XLVI
A chosen band, at twelve at noon,Drew up to fire in grand platoon:
The troops that garrison'd the town
Return'd ilk volley;
And never, on the fourth o' June,
Were fowk mair jolly!
XLVII
The cocks-and-pales were on the run;Rum-punch was flowing by the tun;
Trenchers were handed round wi' bun,
Cookies and baiks,
Short-bread, wi' carvy nicely done,
And ait-meal cakes!
83
XLVIII
Ait-meal, the staff o' life! through thee,Our sires were hearty, brave, and free!
And, still preferring broze to tea,
Their sons are gallant,
And bear, in Arms and Arts, the gree—
Humane and valiant!
XLIX
But there was nought like feasting, tillThe grace was said by James Mackill;
For, though our townsmen feast and fill,
Without much pressing,
They keep the gude auld custom still—
To ask a blessing!
84
L
Convener Tamson means'd the board,Where sat ilk Deacon like a Lord:
John Blackstock raise, and wav'd his sword
In loyal glee—
“God save the King!” was twice encor'd,
Wi' three times three!
LI
Of a' the toasts that scour their hasses,The Kirk o' Scotland, foremost passes:
Dumfries, and a' her bonny Lasses,
And gallant Lads,
Were drank in magnum-bonum glasses,
Wi' ruffs and dads!
85
LII
And, when the loud applause had ceast,“Let's fill,” exclaim'd a score at least;
“Fill, fill to him, for his bequeest,
“In wine unmixt,
“The royal Founder o' the Feast—
“Gude James the Sixt!”
LIII
“Peace to his saul!” cries Deacon Gibb,And drain'd the goblet ilka drib:
Syne, George the Third—the Royal Rib—
The Prince, and a'—
Were drank sae aft, that tongues, ance glib,
Scarce wagg'd ava!
86
LIV
Where gladness beam'd in ilka face,Wha cou'd be dowf, whate'er his case?
The gravest gentry o' the place
In tents convene,
Mix wi' their friends, and blithely grace
The festive scene!
LV
Ev'n Maister Auld, our Letter-gae,And English Teacher, mony a day,
Forgat the cares that made him wae,
And lilted here
Sangs that shall live till time decay,
To Scotia dear!
87
LVI
He sang, wi' matchless taste and skill,The Cowden-Knowes, and Paty's Mill—
My Nanny, O!-and, sweeter still,
In life's decline,
We'll tak a cup, in kind gude-will,
For auld lang syne!
LVII
But, hark! throughout the tented plain,Where mirth, and wine, and music, reign,
Bellona, wi' her stalwart train
O' men in arms,
Recals the wand'ring Muse again
To War's alarms!
88
LVIII
There, still, instead o' marksmen true,To shoot at yonder target now,
Some fallows held their guns askew,
And some let fly
Clean owr the Craigs, ayont our view—
A mile owr high!
LIX
Rob Simson, sportsman bred and born,To won the Royal Prize had sworn;
But windy Robin's powder-horn
Blew up in air,
And he had nought but skaith and scorn,
And meikle care!
89
LX
Some chaps, bumbaz'd amid the yowder,Pat in the ball before the powder;
Some clapp'd their guns to the wrang shou'der,
Where, frae the priming,
Their cheeks and whiskers gat a scowder,
Their een, a styming!
LXI
Steeking his een, big John M'MaffHeld out his musket like a staff;
Turn'd, though the chiel was ha'f-and-ha'f,
His head away,
And, panting, cried, “Sirs! is she aff?”
In wild dismay!
90
LXII
Puir gowk! ne'er us'd to War's alarms,Though love o' fame his bosom warms,
His fears foresaw a thousand harms—
But here the Muse
Propones, for twa-three friends in arms,
A short excuse:
LXIII
Peace and gude-will had been sae langThe burthen o' the People's sang,
Their arms like useless lumber hang:
Nor fife, nor drum,
Was heard, save when the fire-bell rang
For some foul lum!
91
LXIV
Yet though, like children after play,In calm repose the People lay,
That flame whilk lighted Bruce's way
To Freedom's shrine,
Cloudless as yon bright orb o' day,
Ne'er ceas'd to shine!
LXV
For, when the French, in aftertimes,Mad wi' success, and drunk wi' crimes,
Vow'd to infest our happy climes,
And scourge the nation,
Then, with a spirit that sublimes
The humblest station—
92
LXVI
Then, ere our King cou'd gi'e command,Up raise the Genius o' the Land!
Dumfries, in mony a chosen band,
Enarm'd appears,
Fit, in ae phalanx, to withstand
A host o' spears!
LXVII
Men of a' ranks, on foot and horse,Assembled at the Market-Corss;
Where, looking up to Virtue's Source,
The People swore
Never to let a foreign Force
Pollute their shore!
93
LXVIII
Nor was this fervour only here:It spread, like wild-fire, far and near!
Scotland, to ilka virtue dear,
Though aft sair maul'd,
Scotland was never in the rear
When Danger call'd!
LXIX
At hame, afield, or far awa,She bore the brunt in front of a'!
The last to sheathe, the first to draw
Her auld Claymore,
For Liberty, her King, and Law,
And native shore!
94
LXX
O! in his King and Country's cause,How blest is he wha nobly fa's!
Bright Fame her gowden trumpet blaws,
And deathless Story
Devotes his name, wi' loud huzzas,
To endless Glory!
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!
125
CANTO FIFTH.
RETURN HOME—BIRTH-DAY BANQUET IN THE TOWN'S-HALL, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE MAGISTRATES—ASSEMBLIES AND THE PLAY— BONFIRES AND OTHER REJOICINGS CONCLUDE THE FESTIVITY.
127
I
While round the Victor and his Prize,Shouts frae applauding crowds arise—
While to Dumfries the rumour flies,
“M'Nish has won!”
And Minstrel-harps immortalize
The Siller Gun—
128
II
Our Troops, ance mair, frae Warfare free,Resolve to ground their arms a-wee;
Ilk Squadron, in their grand marquee,
To chant a chorus,
And drink, wi' heart-endearing glee,
A deochandorus!
III
Meanwhile, like midges in the sun,Frae tent to tent the wee-things run;
Lasses, to dance wi' him wha won,
Are forward pressing;
And meikle, meikle is their fun,
And fond caressing!
129
IV
But soon, to finish the campaign,“To arms! to arms!” resounds amain:
The Seven Trades, syne, a' rank'd again
In due gradation,
March frae the Craigs, a glitt'ring train—
A grand ovation!
V
The crowd, in token of applause,Threw up their hats as black as craws;
And follow'd fast, wi' loud huzzas,
Except a few
Whase hearts, owr zealous in the cause,
Were squeamish now!
130
VI
Far as the keenest ee cou'd run,The waving flags, and mony a gun,
Buskit wi' flow'rs, and yellow whun,
Sae sweetly shining,
Stream'd like a rainbow, while the sun
Was just declining!
VII
And, as the troops drew near the town,With a' the ensigns o' renown,
The Magistrates paraded down,
And a' the Gentry,
And Love and Friendship vied to crown
Their joyous entry!
131
VIII
“See, see the conq'ring Hero comes!”The Band struck up with a' their drums:
Louder the big bass-fiddle bumms,
The cymbals jingle,
And, in ten thousand thousand hums,
Glad voices mingle!
IX
Close by Convener Tamson's side,The Victor march'd wi' stately stride:
The Seven-Trades'-Flag, unfurl'd sae wide,
Was borne before;
And the lang train advanc'd wi' pride,
By corps and corps!
132
X
To Mistress Corsane's when they came,The Deacons hail'd the comely dame;
Took aff their hats; extol'd her name,
And, marching on,
Lower'd their flags to worth and fame,
Where'er they shone!
XI
Like roses on a castle-wa',The Leddies smil'd upon them a':
Frae the Auld Kirk to the Trades'-Ha',
And New Kirk-steeple,
Ye might have walk'd a mile or twa
On heads o' people!
133
XII
“O! what can keep our John sae lang?”Cries Meggy Muncy, in the thrang:
“I left him happy, hale, and strang,
“Wi' sash and sword on—
“Gude grant there may be naething wrang
“Wi' Johnny Gordon!”
XIII
Lang, lang they dander'd to and fro,Wha miss'd a kinsman or a beau:
The pomp and splendour o' the Show,
To them and their's,
Brought nought but apprehensive woe,
And fruitless cares!
134
XIV
Back to the Craigs they hie again,To seek their friends amang the slain:
By the road-sides, and on the plain,
The drucken crew,
Heart-sick, and penitent in vain,
Were unco fu'!
XV
The Muse is sorry to pourtrayThe fuddled heroes o' the day:
Nae camp, when War has reft away
Her brightest sons,
Cou'd sic a ruefu' scene display
O' men and guns!
135
XVI
Their firelocks broke, their doublets torn,And eke King Crispin a' forlorn!
Here lay, beside the bugle-horn,
A cat-gut strummer;
And there, blithe herald o' the morn,
The Parish-drummer!
XVII
Ev'n Geordy Smith, though stark and slee,Was there as fu' as fu' cou'd be:
Reviewing still, in Fancy's ee,
The martial train—
“Now, Gentlemen! tak tent—” cries he,
And snor'd again!
136
XVIII
Carts, syne, wi' sic as dughtna gae,Were pang'd till they cou'd haud nae mae:
Rob Kinnie, Clench, and sic as thae,
Now blind and lame,
Sad wights! wi' ribs baith black and blae,
Were harel'd hame!
XIX
When fowk are in a merry pin,Weel fortify'd wi' Highland gin,
They'll eithly thole a weel-peyd skin,
Or crackit crown;
And nowther care nor sorrow fin',
Though streaming down!
137
XX
Yet, soon as sober sense returns,Yestreen's debauch the Drunkard mourns:
His feckless body aft he turns,
O! dool and wae!
Sair griev'd, a fev'rish heart-ache burns
Wi' him next day!
XXI
But turn, my Muse, frae scenes debasing,To windows fill'd wi' Beauty gazing—
To streets wi' happy thousands praising
The passing Show;
And bonfires crackling loud, and blazing,
As on they go!
138
XXII
Ding, ding, ding, dang, the bells ring in,The Minstrels screw their merriest pin;
The Magistrates, wi' loyal din,
Tak aff their cau'kers;
And boys their annual pranks begin,
Wi' squibs and crackers!
XXIII
Wae's me for Deacon Ronald's jeezy,That sat sae orthodox and easy!
For, while he smil'd at his ain Leezy,
A squib cam whizzing,
Set a' its ringlets in a bleezy,
And left them bizzing!
139
XXIV
And wae's me, likewise, for the folly,That fowk, ha'f-fu', shou'd fire a volley!
As through the town they march'd sae jolly,
A feu de joie
Had nearly led to melancholy,
And great annoy!
XXV
Tat, tat, a-rat-tat, clitter, clatter,Gun after gun, play'd blitter, blatter:
A random shot, not level'd at her,
Hit Nanny Nairm—
Gart bonny Nanny's blue een water,
And hurt her arm!
140
XXVI
This, when Convener Tamson saw,He griev'd, and soon dismiss'd them a';
Syne, wi' the Deacons, scour'd awa,
By Maister Wylie's,
And took his seat at the Town's-Ha',
Amang the Bailies.
XXVII
Arriving in an unco flutter,The coffee-cups began to clutter;
But first, Mass John, grave Doctor Mutter,
Wi' pious care,
And a' the zeal that Grace cou'd utter,
Preferr'd this Pray'r:
141
XXVIII
“O Thou! by whose resistless law,“Kings, Kingdoms, Empires, stand or fa'!
“Watch owr this Realm; bless great and sma';
“Keep, keep us free!
“And fill our hearts wi' rev'rend awe
“For Truth and Thee!”
XXIX
The Town-Clerk next, a fallow fine,Wha ne'er loo'd water in his wine,
Gart bring the great big gardevine,
And fill the glasses:
Wi' thrice three cheers, in bumpers, syne,
The claret passes!
142
XXX
The King, and other loyal toasts;Health, peace, and plenty, round our coasts;
Our fleets, and a' our armed hosts,
Were drank aloud;
And names of whilk the Country boasts,
And may be proud—
XXXI
The Johnstons, Lords of Annandale,The Douglasses, and Murrays, hale,
The Maxwells,fam'd thro' Nith's sweet vale,
Kirkpatricks, too,
And him, of a' that's gude, the wale,
The great Buccleugh!
143
XXXII
Duncan's, a never-dying name!And Abercromby's, dear to Fame!
Wallace, and Bruce, Sir John the Græme,
And names like their's,
Heroesand Patriots shall proclaim
To Scotland's heirs!
XXXIII
Scotland! my ain dear native land!England, her Sister, great and grand!
Wou'd Ireland join us, heart and hand,
Without commotion,
Our Faes wou'd crumble like the sand
Before the Ocean!
144
XXXIV
The Provost spoke a speech belyve:“Wha can the valiant Scots descrive?
“Aye foremost where the bravest strive,
“And aye victorious;
“Or, hindmost, wi' the few alive,
“Retreating glorious!”
XXXV
Of early scenes the Singers sung,In days of yore, when Life was young!
When Music dwelt on ilka tongue;
And a' the Arts
To Peace their gowden harps had strung,
Wi' lightsome hearts!
145
XXXVI
The Bailies caught the welcome strain,And made the Ha' resound again:
“God save the King,” and bless his reign,
And still watch o'er us—
And “Rule, Britannia, rule the main“—
Were sung in chorus!
XXXVII
When healths were drank to friends awa,And benisons invok'd on a',
The Court-house rang wi' “Sir James Shaw,”
A pattern, bright,
Of virtue, reverential awe,
And Truth upright!
146
XXXVIII
But vain is a' the Poet's artTo paint this banquet o' the heart—
The Town's-fowk a' on the alert,
The grave, the gay,
Happy to meet, and laith to part,
On sic a day!
XXXIX
And where cou'd Love or Fealty traceA mansion like this bonny place?
Where Manliness, in a' its grace,
Protects the land—
Where Beauty's saft enchanting face
Is blithe and bland!
147
XL
Nor is it only, here and there,Ae bonny Lassy, and nae mair!
O' Beauties, gracefu' as they are
Throughout the nation,
Dumfries can boast, beyond compare,
A constellation!
XLI
For them, Assemblies and the PlayConclude the pleasures o' the day:
In Birth-day-dress, sae fine and gay,
The Belle and Beau,
In chairs and chariots, stop the way—
A splendid show!
148
XLII
A' ranks in loyal freaks agreeing,The mingled scene was weel worth seeing:
Big bonfires here—there, boys te-heeing—
Crowds on the streets—
Dead cats, and duddy doublets fleeing,
And burning peats!
XLIII
But Bailie Clark, wha seldom brooksThe pastime that like mischief looks,
Sent for John Doogan frae the Neuks,
And, at his ca',
John quench'd the fires, and fley'd, like rooks,
The boys awa!
149
XLIV
Lang had the callans, morn and noon,Look'd forward to the fourth o' June;
And sair they grudge, when now, in tune,
The joy-bells chime,
Their pleasures cropt, like flow'rs owr soon,
This happy time!
XLV
Yes, happy time, and scenes renown'd,Now only in remembrance found!
For, oh! though terms and tides come round,
The days of yore,
Like water sprinkled on the ground,
Are seen no more!
150
XLVI
Hame, as the gloaming nearer draws,Convener Tamson slips his wa's;
Where wife and weans, in a' their braws,
And best complexion,
Crown the last transports of applause
Wi' sweet affection!
XLVII
Jocosely, in the gardy chair,He tells the day's adventures there;
Syne, ere the bairns to bed repair,
For mercies given,
His gratefu' thoughts, in fervent pray'r,
Ascend to Heaven!
151
XLVIII
With his, our closing strain shall be,May Scotland, happy, brave, and free,
Aye flourish like the green bay-tree!
And may Dumfries,
In a' her revelry and glee,
Blend Love and Peace!
XLIX
And may this day, whate'er befa',The King's Birth-day, our Waponshaw!
Be hail'd wi' joy by great and sma',
And through the land,
May Concord, Liberty, and Law,
Gae hand in hand!
152
L
What tho', Dumfries, some awkward bladesCompear'd wi' muskets and cockades,
Thy Waponshaw, in a' its shades
O' praise or blame,
Shall memorize thy Seven Trades,
And gild their name!
LI
To gild thy name, may ilka GraceAdorn the annals o' thy Race,
May stedfast Justice rule the place
With equal scales,
And tender Mercy shew her face
Where doubt prevails!
153
LII
And shou'd the Fates, till death ensue,Detain me still, sweet Nith! frae you,
O! if, frae yon bright realms, anew,
The state o' bliss,
Departed spirits may review
A warld like this—
LIII
Then, when Dumfries, thy Siller Gun,In future times, is lost and won,
The spirit o' the Bard, thy son,
Shall hover near,
And flighter, till the day be done,
Round scenes sae dear!
155
THE KING'S WELCOME TO SCOTLAND.
THURSDAY, AUGUST XV, MDCCCXXII.
157
I
King George the Fourth is coming downTo see his Friends in Enbro-town;
To hold his Court, and wear the Crown
O' Scotland's Kings, and a' that!
And a' the Chieftains o' the North,
Lords, Leddies, Lairds, and Men of worth,
Are flocking to the Firth o' Forth,
To welcome him, and a' that!
158
II
Whole days, ere yet he reach'd the land,A happy People, hand in hand,
Were rang'd, for miles, alang the strand,
Expecting him, and a' that!
Festoon'd wi' garlands, owr and owr,
Leith-walk was an enamel'd bow'r,
Where Beauty, that enchanting flow'r,
Adorn'd the paths, and a' that!
III
Meantime, wi' mony a bonny sang,The streets and squares of Enbro rang:
Minstrels, and music-bells, ding-dang,
Play'd loyal tunes, and a' that:
Enthusiastically loud,
The ballad-singers charm'd the crowd,
'Till, onward, like a flying cloud,
They hied to Leith, and a' that!
159
IV
At length, amid ten thousand cheers,Behold, the royal Barge appears!
And, hither as the Squadron steers,
Wi' gilded flags, and a' that,
The joy-bells ring, the trumpets sound;
And now, while thund'ring guns rebound,
“God save the King” is sung around,
Wi' tears o' joy, and a' that!
V
Weel might our Liege, wi' pride, surveyThe shores o' Fife and Lothian gay:
Here, mingled crowds, in grand array,
In pleasure-boats, and a' that;
There, merchant-men, and ships of war,
Wi' sailors perch'd on ilka spar,
And, yonder, beacons blazing far,
Edina's tow'rs, and a' that!
160
VI
Yes, George the Fourth might weel be vainTo view, in Scotland, his domain,
A Land that can his rights maintain,
Defend his throne, and a' that—
A race that, since the first o' time,
Ha'e shone supreme, in ilka clime,
For Arms, for Arts, and Works sublime,
Heroic Deeds, and a' that!
VII
What though our King has Kingdoms three,And mony an Island in the sea?
Auld Scotland strives to bear the gree,
For loyalty, and a' that:
Devoted to their Country's weal,
Her hardy Sons are true and leal—
Men fit to feght the very de'il,
For Kirk and King, and a' that!
161
VIII
As nearer land the Monarch drew,Wi' shouts the welkin rung anew;
A louder blast the Pipers blew,
Saluting him, and a' that:
His stately form, his gracefu' mien,
Majestic, dignified, serene,
Increas'd the grandeur o' the scene,
And warm'd our hearts, and a' that.
IX
To give him, in chivalric mood,A Scotch convoy to Holyrood,
The learn'd, the wise, the great, the good,
The grave, the gay, and a' that:
Archers, his guards by ancient right,
Clansmen, and Celts, and Chiefs o' might,
And Yeomanry, a glorious sight!
Escort their King, and a' that.
162
X
And, lo! at yon triumphal gate,The Clergy, Judges, Lords o' State,
And Magistrates, wi' heralds, wait,
To hail their King, and a' that.
Invoking a' the heavenly pow'rs
To crown wi' happiness his hours,
The damsels strow the streets wi' flow'rs,
And singers sing, and a' that:
THE KING'S LANDING.
1
“O! busk ye, busk ye, lad and lass,“Busk ye, busk ye, man and woman!
“Make haste and see our Nobles pass—
“The King and a' his train are coming!
“O! heard ye not the cannon roar,
“Proclaiming loud to Lord and Leddy
“The King is landing on our shore—
“He's landed down at Leith already!
163
2
“He comes! he comes in gallant trim,“Wi' robes o' state, and banners streaming;
“And, as he comes, all eyes on him
“Wi' tears of ecstacy are beaming!
“O, welcome! welcome to this Land—
“This Land where all the Virtues blossom!
“Our Men shall guard thee, heart and hand—
“Our Leddies press thee to their bosom!”
XI
Wi' melody on ilka tongue,A' day, thy streets, Auld Reekie, rung!
Ten thousand thousand voices sung
“God save the King,” and a' that!
As through the crowd his steeds advanc'd,
The Monarch seem'd wi' joy entranc'd,
And auld and young wi' gladness danc'd
To see their King, and a' that!
164
XII
Frae battlements, and turrets high,And windows peopled to the sky,
While kerchiefs wave, and banners fly,
Exultingly, and a' that;
On balconies, frae street to street,
On Calton-Hill, and Arthur's-Seat,
The Leddies look'd like Angels sweet,
Seraphic forms, and a' that!
XIII
The King, through life a courteous knight,Beheld, with wonder and delight,
This galaxy o' beauty bright,
And kiss'd his hand, and a' that:
The Concourse, in a breathless pause,
Gaz'd on their Sire wi' mute applause;
Syne, rent the air wi' loud huzzas,
And clapping hands, and a' that!
165
XIV
At night, to recreate and rest,Dalkeith receiv'd the Royal Guest;
Dalkeith, o' palaces the best
For tranquil bow'rs, and a' that.
Refresh'd, and gladden'd, day by day,
He came forth wi' the noontide ray,
And held his Court, a grand display,
At Holyrood, and a' that!
XV
Within this domicile o' Kings,Owr lang the raven flapp'd its wings:
In better times, our palace rings
Wi' drawing-rooms, and a' that:
At intervals, the minstrel train
Recall Queen Mary's days again;
Or lilt up, in a bolder strain,
The deeds o' Bruce, and a' that!
166
XVI
Buccleugh! benevolent and bland,The best o' Landlords in the land,
Sat by his Royal Sov'reign's hand,
And shar'd his smiles, and a' that—
Buccleugh! at whose exalted name
The Muse wou'd snatch a wreath frae fame
To gratulate the happy Dame
Wha won his heart, and a' that!
XVII
Be their's the Peace, beyond all praise,The Peace of Heaven, and heavenly ways;
Connubial bliss, and length o' days,
And bonny Bairns, and a' that!
For what, to Parents, can afford
A greater joy, in fond accord,
Than Children round about their board,
Wi' rosy cheeks, and a' that?
167
XVIII
Frae Banquets to the Ball or Play,The Monarch mingled wi' the gay:
When Sabbath came, that sacred day,
He grac'd our Church, and a' that:
The Church o' Scotland was his choice,
And, what made a' her Friends rejoice,
The Congregation heard his voice,
In Zion's Songs, and a' that!
XIX
At Holyrood, upon his throne,A blaze o' beauty round him shone;
The noblest blood in Caledon
Appear'd at Court, and a' that!
The courtly circle o' St. James,
Though lang renown'd for lovely dames,
And gallant men, maun share their claims
Wi' Holyrood, and a' that!
168
XX
O, Scotia! Land of hills and lakes!Land o' the Brave! sweet Land o' Cakes!
Whene'er the King his pleasure takes
Amang your tow'rs, and a' that,
Where'er he rests, where'er he moves,
Regard him with your purest loves,
And may his coming, like the dove's,
Betoken Peace, and a' that!
XXI
In him the Royal Line appearsO' Scotland's Kings, his great Forebears,
Wha reign'd for mony a hundred years
In troubled times, and a' that—
Till that blest day which saw the close
O' Scots and English feuds and woes,
And join'd the Thistle to the Rose,
In Unity, and a'that!
169
XXII
Ah! mony a dowy day has beenSince Scotland saw a King or Queen!
Empires and states, and thrones, I ween,
Ha'e been o' erturn'd, and a' that!
Yet Scotland, without crack or flaw,
Stands fast and firm, and ne'er shall fa'
While Virtue, amang great and sma',
Adorns her Bairns, and a' that!
XXIII
Then cock your bonnet, ilka blade!And, buskit in your belted plaid,
Let rites and honours due be paid
To Royalty, and a' that:
Though Kings and Queens of high renown
Ha'e flourish'd aft in Enbro-Town,
A better never wore the crown
Than George the Fourth, with a' that!
170
XXIV
But, oh! while guns and cannons roar,And plaudits welcome him on shore,
The heart is wounded to the core
That we maun part, for a' that!
Yet fill your goblets till they foam;
And, when the King's dispos'd to roam,
He'll look on Scotland as his home,
And come again, and a' that!
207
APOSTROPHE TO THE RIVER NITH.
Hail, gentle Stream! for ever dear
Thy rudest murmurs to mine ear!
Torn from thy Banks, though far I rove
The slave of poverty and love;
Ne'er shall thy Bard where'er he be,
Without a sigh remember thee!
For there my infant years began,
And there my happiest minutes ran,
And there, to filial duty true,
The blossoms of affection grew!
—Blest days, when fond parental care
First led me to the House of Prayer;
And, full of precepts from above,
Inspir'd my earliest song of love!
Thy rudest murmurs to mine ear!
Torn from thy Banks, though far I rove
The slave of poverty and love;
Ne'er shall thy Bard where'er he be,
Without a sigh remember thee!
For there my infant years began,
And there my happiest minutes ran,
And there, to filial duty true,
The blossoms of affection grew!
208
First led me to the House of Prayer;
And, full of precepts from above,
Inspir'd my earliest song of love!
Blithe on thy Banks, thou sweetest Stream
That ever nurs'd a Poet's dream!
Oft, in the intervals of school,
I've plung'd across thy deepest pool;
Or, fishing in forbidden time,
(If youth could sanctify a crime!)
With hazel rod, and fraudful fly,
Ensnar'd thy beauteous salmon-fry;
In pairs have haul'd them out, till when,
Pursu'd by lurking fishermen,
Away I've flown, as fleet as wind,
My lagging followers far behind;
And, when the vain pursuit was o'er,
Return'd successful as before!
That ever nurs'd a Poet's dream!
Oft, in the intervals of school,
I've plung'd across thy deepest pool;
Or, fishing in forbidden time,
(If youth could sanctify a crime!)
With hazel rod, and fraudful fly,
Ensnar'd thy beauteous salmon-fry;
In pairs have haul'd them out, till when,
Pursu'd by lurking fishermen,
Away I've flown, as fleet as wind,
My lagging followers far behind;
And, when the vain pursuit was o'er,
Return'd successful as before!
Still, on thy Banks, thou sweetest Stream
That glitters to the morning-beam,
May youthful sports and joys resound;
True love and poesy abound;
And, in despite of boyish crimes,
The fishing in forbidden times,
Safe may thy fry in myriads glide
To Solway Firth, and Ocean wide;
And thence again, matur'd and hale,
Enrich the streams through Niddisdale;
While I, like some lorn pilgrim, roam
Far from thy Banks, my native home!
That glitters to the morning-beam,
May youthful sports and joys resound;
True love and poesy abound;
And, in despite of boyish crimes,
The fishing in forbidden times,
Safe may thy fry in myriads glide
To Solway Firth, and Ocean wide;
And thence again, matur'd and hale,
Enrich the streams through Niddisdale;
While I, like some lorn pilgrim, roam
Far from thy Banks, my native home!
219
[If ever yet to erring man 'twere given]
If ever yet to erring man 'twere given,To walk according to the will of Heaven,
At Ewell, daily doing good, we see
That godlike man, benignant Reid, in thee!
234
[Bonaparte, o'er the sea]
1
Bonaparte, o'er the sea,Threatens you and threatens me;
Single-handed though we be,
We'll gar him rue the laive o't.
Let him come, or let him send,
Back again he'll never bend;
Our island is his journey's end,
He'll only get a grave o't.
2
And for the fiend-like sons o' strife,Wha'd stain the soil that gave us life,
By a' that's dear to man and wife
An inch they'll never have o't.
235
We'll mak them fa', or gar them flee;
And, when we've drown'd them in the sea,
We'll triumph o'er each wave o't.
3
O! for his country, when she calls,How blest is he wha nobly falls!
Loud Fame records him in her halls,
And Glory tells the brave o't!
Sound, sound your pipes, your trumpets blaw,
To arms, to arms! huzza, huzza!
Our king, our liberty and law,
Our country, or a grave o't!
238
TO THE ARMY AND NAVY RETURNING FROM THE WAR.
1
Gallant troops from Waterloo,Wellington's companions true,
All to whom our thanks are due,
For battles bravely won:
Glory gain'd and peace restor'd,
Welcome home to sheathe the sword,
Bless your king, and praise the Lord,
For wonders he hath done!
239
2
When the French, a fiend-like band,Threaten'd to despoil the land;
When their Chief, with fiery brand,
Was Europe's deadly foe;
Britain, with her flag unfurl'd,
From his throne the Usurper hurl'd!
Britain sav'd a falling world,
And laid the Tyrant low!
3
Sailors of great Nelson's crew,Wealth and fame we owe to you;
Trafalgar, and Waterloo,
The war with glory crown'd!
See, brave heroes of the Nile,
Commerce re-illumes our isle;
Providence still deigns to smile,
And gladdens all around!
4
Shou'd the Foemen, bold again,Dare us to the battle plain,
Heart and hand, with might and main,
We'll arm by land and sea.
Waterloo and Trafalgar,
In our minds a leading star,
Shall guide our fleets and hosts afar
To glorious victory!
240
5
Gallant troops from Waterloo,Sailors of great Nelson's crew,
All who wou'd, like Britons true,
The race of glory run:
Hail your Prince with one accord,
Bless the King and praise the Lord,
Ever be His name ador'd
For wonders he hath done!
| The Siller Gun, A Poem in Five Cantos. By John Mayne | |