Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver :: :: University of Virginia Library

By the lowe o' a lawyer's ingle bricht,
Wi' gruesome looks an' dark,
The Deil sat pickin' his thum's ae nicht
Frae evendoun want o' wark.
At length in the learn'd lug to hark
He cannilie screw'd him roun',
Syne claw'd his elbow an' leuch to mark
The lang-leaft buik brocht doun.

Wi' outshot een, o'er leaf an' line,
Sae keenly did they leuk,
An' oh! there was ae waefu' sign
Within that wearie buik,
Whan Hornie gae his mou a cruik
An' whisper'd, “Look ye, here's
A crafter carl upon our hook
Ahint these twa ‘ha'f years.’

“Gae harry him, man, an' gar him dee,
The lave is your's an' mine;
His daisy dochter's scornfu' e'e
Will blink less saucy syne.
In beinless wa's just lat her pine,
Sic lanesome hardships pree;
An' here's my loof the haughty quean
Will fa' afore she flee.”

Love heard, an' scunnert wi' the plot
Swore grey the very moon,
That he would hae the lawyer shot,
An' gar the deevil droun.
He flaft his wing o'er brae, an' boun'
O'er field and forest wide;
In lawly biggin lichted doun
An' knelt by Annie's side.

O, whaur is love maist lovely seen?
In timorous glances stealing—
Half-hid, half-own'd in diamond e'en
The soul-fraught look revealing?
No; see it there—a daughter kneeling
A father's sickbed near,
With uprais'd heart to heaven appealing,
That—that's the look for angel's wear!

Annie, sic look was thine that nicht,
Yon waesome watchfu' hour;
The man o' buiks thow'd at the sicht—
He tint a' pith an' pow'r.

Auld Hornie then forthwith 'gan scour
By heicht an' howe—an' then
At Cardin's brig he tumbl't o'er
An' never raise again.

The lanefu' lawyer held his breath,
An' word micht utter nane;
But lookit aye—grew aye mair laith
To blaud her bonnie een.
Love threw a shaft, sae sure an' keen,
It trembled in his heart;
An' micht I deem, altho' a stane
Had dwallin' in the part.

Syne, slow an' dowie, wending hame,
Wi' cares unkent afore,
His heart a' sinkin' doun wi' shame—
Wi' new love gushin' o'er.
By buik or bond he held nae store,
For bound eneuch was he;
Nor could he read aucht ither lore
Than beam'd in yon bricht e'e.

A saftness hangs on ilka word;
A wish on ilka hour;
A sang is soucht fra' every bird,
A sich frae every flower.

Now briefs forsaken, rot an' sour—
A sonnet rules a summons;
E'en Blackstone's weighty wit maun cour
To far mair weighty woman's.

A crofter is one who holds a four or five acre piece of land, and house.

Cardin's brig over the Gadie, to the west of Logie, Elphinstone.