 | Poems And Songs |  |
20
ELEGY,
NOT WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
Nature's robe was autumn-tinted,
Golden tints that poets lo'e;
Rain to scanty showers was stinted,
Richly fell the needfu' dew.
Bloomin' on the ryegrass meadows
Babs o' clover-flowers were seen;
Darker grew the woodland shadows,
Darker grew the swellin' bean.
Golden tints that poets lo'e;
Rain to scanty showers was stinted,
Richly fell the needfu' dew.
Bloomin' on the ryegrass meadows
Babs o' clover-flowers were seen;
Darker grew the woodland shadows,
Darker grew the swellin' bean.
Brooding by the forest fountains,
Blackbirds sat, nae mair embowered;
Mistier 'mang their brother mountains
Tintoc and Ben Lomond towered.
Summer's hopes had grown maturer,
O'er despair the day seemed won;
For the farmer's wealth grew surer
With each settin' of the sun.
Blackbirds sat, nae mair embowered;
Mistier 'mang their brother mountains
Tintoc and Ben Lomond towered.
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O'er despair the day seemed won;
For the farmer's wealth grew surer
With each settin' of the sun.
But the autumn hopes and beauty
Couldna tether wanderin' Death;
Grim and stern, he did his duty—
“Nickin' thread” and “chokin' breath.”
And without a scythe or lister
(Baith in vain were tried before),
But wi' alcohol and blister,
He had stricken Willie M—.
Couldna tether wanderin' Death;
Grim and stern, he did his duty—
“Nickin' thread” and “chokin' breath.”
And without a scythe or lister
(Baith in vain were tried before),
But wi' alcohol and blister,
He had stricken Willie M—.
Willie was nae “freak o' nature;”
Strappin', straucht, and strong was he;
But, devoted to the creature,
Willie's sin was barley-bree.
Thochtless as an unshod fillie,
He had lived through sun and storm,
And had been the drouthiest billie
Ever patronised a worm.
Strappin', straucht, and strong was he;
But, devoted to the creature,
Willie's sin was barley-bree.
Thochtless as an unshod fillie,
He had lived through sun and storm,
And had been the drouthiest billie
Ever patronised a worm.
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Sairly Willie's comrades miss't him,
For his jokes were rich and rare;
Aften owre their drams they blessed him—
Drams they could but barely spare.
Aft (for lees are deemed nae sinnin'
When the dram ca's round the crack)
They had sworn they saw him grinnin',
Cauld and ghastly, at their back.
For his jokes were rich and rare;
Aften owre their drams they blessed him—
Drams they could but barely spare.
Aft (for lees are deemed nae sinnin'
When the dram ca's round the crack)
They had sworn they saw him grinnin',
Cauld and ghastly, at their back.
See them on a winter e'enin',
While the sleet is fa'in' fast,
And the beeches, northward leanin',
Sway like willows in the blast:
See them from their ingles venturin',
Scornfu' o' their temptsome glouff,
And, defyin' tempest, saunterin'
Slowly to their whisky-houff.
While the sleet is fa'in' fast,
And the beeches, northward leanin',
Sway like willows in the blast:
See them from their ingles venturin',
Scornfu' o' their temptsome glouff,
And, defyin' tempest, saunterin'
Slowly to their whisky-houff.
Blest wi' boxfu's of tobacco,
Owre and owre their pipes they fill,
Round they drive the burnin' aqua,
And the red deceivin' yill.
Each displays, nae gesture lackin',
A' his wisdom and his lore;
Till at last they fell a-crackin'
Of their comrade, Willie M—.
Owre and owre their pipes they fill,
Round they drive the burnin' aqua,
And the red deceivin' yill.
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A' his wisdom and his lore;
Till at last they fell a-crackin'
Of their comrade, Willie M—.
Loudly they declared his praises,
Willie's was an honoured name—
Fair and fresh as summer daisies,
Lang wad last his fisher fame.
“But,” quoth ane, wi' whisky flurried,
“Tell me, callans, ere we flit,
Should oor comrade no been buried,
Whare he wished, at Waterfit?
Willie's was an honoured name—
Fair and fresh as summer daisies,
Lang wad last his fisher fame.
“But,” quoth ane, wi' whisky flurried,
“Tell me, callans, ere we flit,
Should oor comrade no been buried,
Whare he wished, at Waterfit?
“Aft amang the hazel bushes,
Dippin' down in purlin' Cart,
He has tell't me a' the wishes
Of his warm and honest heart.
‘Here,’ quoth he, ‘when Death wins owre me,
When I'm heukit, stiff, and dead,
'Neath thae brackens straught afore ye,
Lay my auld grey frostit head.
Dippin' down in purlin' Cart,
He has tell't me a' the wishes
Of his warm and honest heart.
‘Here,’ quoth he, ‘when Death wins owre me,
When I'm heukit, stiff, and dead,
'Neath thae brackens straught afore ye,
Lay my auld grey frostit head.
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“‘Let my rod be buried wi’ me,
Wi' my flees that ocht could kill;
Syne, when mortals canna see me,
Up I'll get and fish my fill.
Lang ere cock-craw or hen-cackle
I'll be stannin' on yon stane;
Man! what glorious fish I'll tackle,
Jist to let awa' again!
Wi' my flees that ocht could kill;
Syne, when mortals canna see me,
Up I'll get and fish my fill.
Lang ere cock-craw or hen-cackle
I'll be stannin' on yon stane;
Man! what glorious fish I'll tackle,
Jist to let awa' again!
“‘Or, when tired of rod and ripple,
When the stars wink in the burn,
When auld neebors meet to tipple,
To a spirit-fish I'll turn.
See me then wi' rapture playin'
In the skinkle of the moon,
Or by haughs and holmlands strayin’,
Fear't for neither dam nor linn.
When the stars wink in the burn,
When auld neebors meet to tipple,
To a spirit-fish I'll turn.
See me then wi' rapture playin'
In the skinkle of the moon,
Or by haughs and holmlands strayin’,
Fear't for neither dam nor linn.
“‘Aft when lint-powed Willie M---h---n
Whips the stream wi' a' his skill,
I, unseen, ahint him splauchin’,
Sair will tease my comrade Will.
Whiles, a flashin' braw four-pounder,
I will frae the stream be drawn;
Losh! how cheatit Will will wonder
As I, slippin', leave his haun'!
Whips the stream wi' a' his skill,
I, unseen, ahint him splauchin’,
Sair will tease my comrade Will.
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I will frae the stream be drawn;
Losh! how cheatit Will will wonder
As I, slippin', leave his haun'!
“‘Whiles, in peebly shallows strandit,
In I'll tempt him, shoon and a';
Syne, while on his back he's landit,
Doon the stream I'll scour awa'.
Whiles, amang the boulders hidin',
I will jouk him for an hour,
Then, in fifty fish dividin',
Frae his claspit fingers scour.
In I'll tempt him, shoon and a';
Syne, while on his back he's landit,
Doon the stream I'll scour awa'.
Whiles, amang the boulders hidin',
I will jouk him for an hour,
Then, in fifty fish dividin',
Frae his claspit fingers scour.
“‘Clarkston chiels, and chaps frae Thorny,
To some ither stream may flit,
For, by a' the imps of Horny,
Nocht they'll get at Waterfit.
Ginlers there will get their farin'—
Deil nor they were a' defunck!—
And the otter, pike, and heron,
Meet wi' mony a sair begunk.’
To some ither stream may flit,
For, by a' the imps of Horny,
Nocht they'll get at Waterfit.
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Deil nor they were a' defunck!—
And the otter, pike, and heron,
Meet wi' mony a sair begunk.’
“Thus were Willie's wishes spoken,
Ere he dee'd but twa short weeks,
And though whiles I thocht him jokin',
Tears were trintlin' doon his cheeks.
Oh! that he had langer tarried,
To be wi' us whare we sit;
Or that he had jist been buried,
As he wished, at Waterfit.”
Ere he dee'd but twa short weeks,
And though whiles I thocht him jokin',
Tears were trintlin' doon his cheeks.
Oh! that he had langer tarried,
To be wi' us whare we sit;
Or that he had jist been buried,
As he wished, at Waterfit.”
Need I tell how the replenished
Gill-stoup round the board had flown,
Ere the mist of sorrow vanished,
And the sun of pleasure shone;
How ilk pouch of cash was emptied,
How they lingered, drouthy still—
How wi' promised trout they temptit
In the grudged and tickit gill?
Gill-stoup round the board had flown,
Ere the mist of sorrow vanished,
And the sun of pleasure shone;
How ilk pouch of cash was emptied,
How they lingered, drouthy still—
How wi' promised trout they temptit
In the grudged and tickit gill?
27
Need I tell ye Will's connection
Wi' their toasts, though cauld he lay;
How they planned his resurrection,
And his second burial-day;
How of fishin' feats they swaggered,
As they drank, and drier grew;
Till at early morn they staggered
Hameward, brethren sworn—but fou?
Wi' their toasts, though cauld he lay;
How they planned his resurrection,
And his second burial-day;
How of fishin' feats they swaggered,
As they drank, and drier grew;
Till at early morn they staggered
Hameward, brethren sworn—but fou?
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