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The Wife of Auchtermuchty

an ancient Scottish poem. With a translation into Latin rhyme [by William Meston]
 

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6

THE WIFE OF AUCHTERMUCHTY.

I

In Auchtermuchty dwelt a man,
An husband, as I heard it tald,
Quha weil could tipple out a can,
And nowther luvit hunger nor cauld;
Till anes it fell upon a day
He zokit his pleuch upon the plain;
But schort the storm wald let him stay,
Sair blew the day with wind and rain.

II

He lows'd the plewch at the land's end,
And drave his owsen hame at ene;
Quhen he came in he blinkit ben,
And saw his wife baith dry and clene,
Set beikand by a fire full bauld,
Suppand fat soup as I heard say:
The man being weary, wet, and cauld,
Betwein thir twa it was nae play.

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III

Quod he, “Quhair is my horses corn?
“My owsen has nae hay nor strae;
“Dame, ze maun to the plewch the morn,
“I sall be hussy gif I may.
“This seid-time it proves cauld and bad,
“And ze sit warm, nae troubles se;
“The morn ze sall gae wi' the lad,
“And syne zeil ken what drinkers drie.”

IV

“Gudeman,” quod scho, “content am I,
“To tak the plewch my day about,
“Sae ze rule weil the kaves and ky,
“And all the house baith in and out:
“And now sen ze haif made the law,
“Then gyde all richt, and do not break;
“They sicker raid that neir did faw;
“Therefore let naething be neglect.

V

“But sen ye will hussyskep ken,
“First ze maun sift and syne sall kned;
“And ay as ye gang butt and ben,
“Luke that the bairns dryt not the bed:
“And lay a saft wysp to the kiln,
“We haif a dear farm on our heid:
“And ay as ze gang forth and in,
“Keip weil the gaislings frae the gled.”

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VI

The Wyfe was up richt late at ene,
I pray luke gif her ill to fare,
Scho kirn'd the kirn, and skumt it clene,
Left the Gudeman but bladoch bare:
Then in the morning up scho gat,
And on hir heart laid hir disjune,
And pat as meikle in hir lap,
As micht haif serd them baith at nune.

VII

Says, Jok, be thou maister of wark,
And thou sall had, and I sall ka;
Ile promise thee a gude new sark,
Either of round claith or of sma.
Scho lowst the owsen aught or nyne,
And hynt a gad-staff in her hand:
Up the Gudeman raise aftir syne,
And saw the Wyfe had done command.

VIII

He draif the gaislings forth to feid;
Thair was but sevensum of them aw,
And by thair comes the greidy gled,
And lickt up five, left him but twa;
Then out he ran in all his mane,
How sune he hard the gaislings cry;
But than ere he came in again,
The kaves brak louse and suckt the ky.

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IX

The kaves and ky met in the loan,
The man ran with a rung to red,
Than by came an ill-willy roan,
And brodit his buttocks till they bled.
Syne up he tuke a rok of tow,
And he sat down to sey the spinning;
He loutit down our neir the low,
Quod he, “This wark has ill beginning.”

X

The leam up throu the lum did flow,
The sute tuke fyre, it fleyd him than;
Sum lumps did fall and burn his pow;
I wat he was a dirty man:
Zit he gat water in a pan,
Quhairwith he sloken'd out the fyre:
To soup the house he syne began;
To had all richt was his desyre.

XI

Hynd to the kirn then did he stoure,
And jumblit at it till he swat,
Quhen he had rumblit a full lang hour,
The sorrow crap of butter he gat;
Albeit nae butter he could get,
Zit he was cummert with the kirn,
And syne he het the milk sae het,
That ill a spark of it wad zyrne.

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XII

Then ben thair cam a greedy sow,
I trow he cund hir little thank:
For n scho shot hir meikle mow,
And ay scho winkit, and scho drank.
He tuke the kirnstaff be the schank,
And hocht to reik the sow a rout,
The twa left gaislings gat a clank,
That straik dang baith thair harnis out.

XIII

Then he bure kendling to the kiln,
But scho start all up in a low;
Quhateir he heard, quhateir he saw,
That day he had nae will to ---.
Then he zied to tak up the bairns,
Thocht to have fund them fair and clene,
The first that he gat in his arms,
Was a bedirten to the een.

XIV

The first it smellt sae sappylie,
To touch the lave he did not grein:
“The deil cut aff thair hands,” quoth he,
“That cramd zour kytes sae straite zestrein.”
He traild the foul sheits down the gate,
Thocht to have wush them on a stane;
The burn was risen grit of spait,
Awa frae him the sheits has tane.

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XV

Then up he gat on a know heid,
On hir to cry, on hir to schout:
Scho hard him, and scho hard him not,
But stoutly steird the stots about.
Scho draif the day unto the nicht,
Scho lowst the plewch, and syne cam hame;
Scho fand all wrang that sould bene richt;
I trow the man thocht meikle schame.

XVI

Quod he, “My office I forsake,
“For all the hale days of my lyfe;
“For I wald put a house to wraik,
“Had I been twenty days Gudewyfe.”
Quod scho, “Weil mot ze bruke your place,
“For truly I sall neir accept it;”
Quod he, “Feynd fa the lyar's face,
“Bat zit ze may be blyth to get it.”

XVII

Then up scho gat a meikle rung;
And the Gudeman made to the door,
Quod he, “Dame, I sall hald my tung,
“For an we fecht I'll get the war:”
Quod he, “When I forsuke my plewch,
“I trow I but forsuke my skill:
“Then I will to my plewch again;
“For I and this house will nevir do weil.”

18

Viri Humani, Salsi et Faceti, Gulielmi Sutherlandi,

Multarum Artium et Scientiarum Doctoris Doctissimi, Diploma.

Ubique gentium et terrarum,
From Sutherland to Padanarum,
From those who have six months of day,
Ad caput usque Bonæ Spei,
And farther yet, si forte tendat,
Ne ignorantiam quis prætendat,—
We, Doctors of the Merry Meeting,
To all and sundry do send greeting,
Ut omnes habeant compertum,
Per hanc præsentem nostram chartam,
Gulielmum Sutherlandum Scotum,
At home per nomen Bogsie notum,
Who studied stoutly at our College,
And gave good specimens of knowledge,
In multis artibus versatum,
Nunc factum esse doctoratum.

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Quoth Preses, Strictum post examen,
Nunc esto Doctor; we said, Amen.
So to you all hunc commendamus,
Ut juvenem quem nos amamus,
Qui multas habet qualitates,
To please all humours and ætates.
He vies, if sober, with Duns Scotus,
Sed multo magis si sit potus.
In disputando just as keen as
Calvin, John Knox, or Tom Aquinas.
In every question of theology,
Versatus multum in trickology;
Et in catalogis librorum
Frazer could never stand before him;
For he, by page and leaf, can quote
More books than Solomon ere wrote.
A lover of the mathematics
He is, but hates the hydrostatics,
Because he thinks it a cold study,
To deal in water clear or muddy.
Doctissimus est medicinæ,
Almost as Boerhaave or Bellini.
He thinks the diet of Cornaro,
In meat and drink too scrimp and narrow,
And that the rules of Leonard Lessius,
Are good for nothing but to stress us.
By solid arguments and keen
He has confuted Doctor Cheyne,
And clearly prov'd by demonstration,
That claret is a good collation,

20

Sanis et ægris always better
Than coffee, tea, or milk and water;
That cheerful company, cum risu,
Cum vino forti, suavi visu,
Gustatu dulci, still has been
A cure for hyppo and the spleen;
That hen and capon, vervecina,
Beef, duck and pasties,cum ferina,
Are good stomachics, and the best
Of cordials, probatum est.
He knows the symptoms of the phthisis,
Et per salivam sees diseases,
And can discover in urina,
Quando sit opus medicina.
A good French nightcap still has been,
He says, a proper anodyne,
Better than laudanum or poppy,
Ut dormiamus like a toppy.
Affirmat lusum alearum,
Medicamentum esse clarum,
Or else a touch at three-hand ombre
When toil or care our spirits cumber,
Which graft wings on our hours of leisure,
And make them fly with ease and pleasure.
Aucupium et venationem,
Post longam nimis potationem,
He has discover'd to be good
Both for the stomach and the blood,
As frequent exercise and travel,
Are good against the gout and gravel.

21

He clearly proves the cause of death
Is nothing but the want of breath,
And that indeed is a disaster,
When 'tis osccasion'd by a plaster
Of hemp and pitch, laid closely on
Somewhat above the collar-bone.
Well does he know the proper doses
Which will prevent the fall of noses,
E'en keep them, qui privantur illis,
Ægrè utuntur conspicillis.
To this, and ten times more, his skill
Extends when he could cure or kill.
Immensam cognitionem legum
Ne prorsus hic silentio tegam,
Cum sociis artis, grease his fist,
Torquebat illas as you list;
If laws for bribes are made, 'tis plain,
They may be bought and sold again;
Spectando aurum now we find
That Madam Justice is stone blind,
So deaf and dull in both her ears,
The clink of gold she only hears;
Nought else but a loud party shout
Will make her start or look about.
His other talents to rehearse,
Brevissimè in prose or verse,
To tell how gracefully he dances,
And artfully contrives romances,
How well he arches, and shoots flying,
(Let no man think that we mean lying),

22

How well he fences, rides and sings,
And does ten thousand other things;
Allow a line, nay, but a comma,
To each, turgeret hoc diploma;
Quare, ut tandem concludamus,
Qui brevitatem appprobamus,
(For brevity is always good,
Providing we be understood),
In rerum omnium naturis,
Non minus quam scientia juris
Et medicinæ, Doctoratum
Bogsæum novimus versatum;
Nor shall we here say more about him,
But you may dacker if you doubt him.
Addamus tamen hoc tantillum
Duntaxat nostrum hoc sigillum,
Huic testimonio appensum,
Ad confirmandum ejus sensum,
Junctis chirographis cunctorum,
Blyth, honest, hearty sociorum.
Dabamus at a large punch-bowl,
Within our proper common school,
The twenty-sixth day of November,
Ten years, the date we may remember,
After the race of Sheriffmuir,
(Scotsmen will count from a black hour).
Ab omni probo nunc signetur,
Qui denegabit extrudetur.

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FINIS.