 | The Siller Gun, A Poem in Five Cantos. By John Mayne |  |
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!
| The Siller Gun, A Poem in Five Cantos. By John Mayne | |