The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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THE BENIGHTED PEDLAR.
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
THE BENIGHTED PEDLAR.
A TALE.
Cauld blew the blast, an' on the plain
In torrents fell the blatterin' rain,
As a puir packman chiel,
Wha on the muir had tynt his road,
Gaed trudgin' 'neath his heavy load,
In search o' some bit biel,
In torrents fell the blatterin' rain,
As a puir packman chiel,
Wha on the muir had tynt his road,
Gaed trudgin' 'neath his heavy load,
In search o' some bit biel,
Whare he micht shelter frae the wet,
Or aiblins a nicht's lodgin' get;
For since the break o' day,
Bendin' aneath his heavy pack,
He'd trampit on wi' wearied back
Alang his lanesome way.
Or aiblins a nicht's lodgin' get;
For since the break o' day,
Bendin' aneath his heavy pack,
He'd trampit on wi' wearied back
Alang his lanesome way.
When, standing in a dreary spot,
An auld half-ruined shepherd's cot
The weary pedlar saw,
Whilk had fac'd mony a windy blast
Since it had haen a traveller last
Within its totterin' wa's.
An auld half-ruined shepherd's cot
The weary pedlar saw,
Whilk had fac'd mony a windy blast
Since it had haen a traveller last
Within its totterin' wa's.
337
For aff its rugged rafters black,
Mony a fierce storm had tirred the thack
An' left them stanin' bare;
While the auld, broken, shattered door,
Torn aff its hinges, on the floor
Kept out the blast nae mair.
Mony a fierce storm had tirred the thack
An' left them stanin' bare;
While the auld, broken, shattered door,
Torn aff its hinges, on the floor
Kept out the blast nae mair.
The wearied pedlar hurried in,
A' wat an' drookit to the skin,
Syne threw his burden down;
An' having quickly struck a licht,
Ere lang a bleezin' fire shone bricht,
On the black wa's a' roun'.
A' wat an' drookit to the skin,
Syne threw his burden down;
An' having quickly struck a licht,
Ere lang a bleezin' fire shone bricht,
On the black wa's a' roun'.
When having dried his dreepin' claise,
The broken door he up did raise,
Syne laid him down to rest;
When he fan' something awfu' caul,
That seemed to freeze his verra saul,
Pressin' upo' his breast.
The broken door he up did raise,
Syne laid him down to rest;
When he fan' something awfu' caul,
That seemed to freeze his verra saul,
Pressin' upo' his breast.
He started up in awfu' fricht,
An' by the fading fire's dull licht,
He saw near whare he lay:
A fleesome-looking spectre stan',
Haudin' an ell-wan' in his han'
Wi' face a' pale as clay.
An' by the fading fire's dull licht,
He saw near whare he lay:
A fleesome-looking spectre stan',
Haudin' an ell-wan' in his han'
Wi' face a' pale as clay.
Its throat was cut frae ear to ear,
An', as the pedlar glowered wi' fear,
It fixed on him its e'e;
Syne pointed to the cottage door;
When out the frichted chiel did roar—
“In Gude's name, wha are ye?”
An', as the pedlar glowered wi' fear,
It fixed on him its e'e;
Syne pointed to the cottage door;
When out the frichted chiel did roar—
“In Gude's name, wha are ye?”
338
It answered—“I'm a packman's ghost.
I on this muir my road ance lost,
An' soucht a lodgin' here;
When i' the nicht, withouten dread,
They took my life—a bloody deed!—
That they micht get my gear.
I on this muir my road ance lost,
An' soucht a lodgin' here;
When i' the nicht, withouten dread,
They took my life—a bloody deed!—
That they micht get my gear.
“Sae rise, my frien', an' fallow me,
An' I will let you the place see
Whare they my banes hae laid.”
“I'm much obliged to you, indeed;
But I wad just as soon no heed,”
The tremblin' pedlar said:
An' I will let you the place see
Whare they my banes hae laid.”
“I'm much obliged to you, indeed;
But I wad just as soon no heed,”
The tremblin' pedlar said:
“For, sir, ye see I'm wearied sair
Wi' trampin' a' day owre the muir,
Carryin' a heavy pack.”
But, seeing that the ghost looked glum,
He added—“Weel a weel, I'll come
Gif ye'll let me soon back.”
Wi' trampin' a' day owre the muir,
Carryin' a heavy pack.”
But, seeing that the ghost looked glum,
He added—“Weel a weel, I'll come
Gif ye'll let me soon back.”
The ghost then glided to the door,
An' silently moved on before
The frichted pedlar chap;
Wha trudged behin', cursin' his lot
That had brought him to sic a spot,
To meet wi' this mishap.
An' silently moved on before
The frichted pedlar chap;
Wha trudged behin', cursin' his lot
That had brought him to sic a spot,
To meet wi' this mishap.
At length, they reach'd a rocky height,
'Neath whilk the water, shining bright,
Clear in the moonbeams lay;
When the ghost said—“Amang these stanes
Down at the bottom, lye my banes,
Jump down for them, I say.”
'Neath whilk the water, shining bright,
Clear in the moonbeams lay;
When the ghost said—“Amang these stanes
Down at the bottom, lye my banes,
Jump down for them, I say.”
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“Lord!” quo' the pedlar, turning round,
“If I did that I wad be drowned,
I wad, I do declare.”
“What's that to me!” the ghost replies;
“Jump down this moment, damn your eyes!
An' don't stan' chatterin' there.
“If I did that I wad be drowned,
I wad, I do declare.”
“What's that to me!” the ghost replies;
“Jump down this moment, damn your eyes!
An' don't stan' chatterin' there.
Do ye think I've nae mair ado,
Than stan' a' nicht listening to you,
Ye thievish neer-do-weel?
I winna swear; but, by the Lord,
Gif ye don't jump down, tak' my word,
My vengeance ye will feel.”
Than stan' a' nicht listening to you,
Ye thievish neer-do-weel?
I winna swear; but, by the Lord,
Gif ye don't jump down, tak' my word,
My vengeance ye will feel.”
The pedlar then for mercy cried,
An' then, to melt the ghost's heart tried;
But it was labour lost:
For liftin' him up by the hair,
He whirlèd him roun' in the air;
Syne in the hole him tossed.
An' then, to melt the ghost's heart tried;
But it was labour lost:
For liftin' him up by the hair,
He whirlèd him roun' in the air;
Syne in the hole him tossed.
When he set up an awfu' yell
As through the air he downward fell:
An' waukened wi' a scream.
When he was lyin' in the cot,
For he had never left the spot:
It had been but a dream.
As through the air he downward fell:
An' waukened wi' a scream.
When he was lyin' in the cot,
For he had never left the spot:
It had been but a dream.
As soon as Mr. Main got through this tale
O' dreams, an' packman, an' a spectre pale,
Young Master Sprat got up again an' sang,
And faith he routed at it loud an' lang,—
But what it was about I dinna min',
For twa three fellows had kicked up a shine,
An', wi' their dinsome swearin' loud an' lang,
No ane cou'd hear a word o' the bit sang.
O' dreams, an' packman, an' a spectre pale,
Young Master Sprat got up again an' sang,
And faith he routed at it loud an' lang,—
But what it was about I dinna min',
For twa three fellows had kicked up a shine,
An', wi' their dinsome swearin' loud an' lang,
No ane cou'd hear a word o' the bit sang.
340
Then in the Spouter cam' upo' the board,
An' in an instant, quietness was restored.
When he soon gied us “Eppie an' the Deil,”—
A tale about an auld wife an' her wheel;
Wha, ae nicht daunerin' hame out owre the heicht,
Gat frae aul' Clootie a most awfu' fricht:
For, in her wrath, she said—“I wish the Deil
Wou'd flee awa' wi' this aul' curséd wheel;”
And faith, nae sooner had she said the word,
Than frae the clouds the Devil downwards spurred,
An' whuppit Eppie's wheel awa wi' speed,
Whilk made the auld wife stan' an' stare wi' dread:
“Gie's back my wheel!” she cried; and, as she spak',
The Devil flung it down upo' her back.
An' in an instant, quietness was restored.
When he soon gied us “Eppie an' the Deil,”—
A tale about an auld wife an' her wheel;
Wha, ae nicht daunerin' hame out owre the heicht,
Gat frae aul' Clootie a most awfu' fricht:
For, in her wrath, she said—“I wish the Deil
Wou'd flee awa' wi' this aul' curséd wheel;”
And faith, nae sooner had she said the word,
Than frae the clouds the Devil downwards spurred,
An' whuppit Eppie's wheel awa wi' speed,
Whilk made the auld wife stan' an' stare wi' dread:
“Gie's back my wheel!” she cried; and, as she spak',
The Devil flung it down upo' her back.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the Spouter said
When he an end o' Eppie's tale had made:
“Allow me to express my gratitude
In a few words, before that I conclude;
For the great kindness you have shown to me
In coming my performances to see.”
Ruffin' an' cheers now owre the audience rang
As he continued,—“I will, with a song,
This night's performance close, ere it be late;
When Master Sprat, to heighten up the treat,
Will sing the chorus.” He then made a bow,
An', turnin' round to Master Sprat, said—“Now,
We will begin.” Then Master Sprat upsprang,
An' syne they both began the followin' sang:—
When he an end o' Eppie's tale had made:
“Allow me to express my gratitude
In a few words, before that I conclude;
For the great kindness you have shown to me
In coming my performances to see.”
Ruffin' an' cheers now owre the audience rang
As he continued,—“I will, with a song,
This night's performance close, ere it be late;
When Master Sprat, to heighten up the treat,
Will sing the chorus.” He then made a bow,
An', turnin' round to Master Sprat, said—“Now,
We will begin.” Then Master Sprat upsprang,
An' syne they both began the followin' sang:—
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |