I'm sure sma's pleasure it can gie,
E'en to a Deil,

To skelp1 an' scaud poor dogs like me,

An' hear us squeel!

Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame;
Far kenn'dk and noted is thy name;
An' tho' yon lowin' heughl's thy hame.

Thou travels far;
An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame,
Nor blate,m nor scaur."

Whyles ranging like a roaring lion
For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin';
Whyles on the strong-wing'd tempest flyin',

Tirling the kirks:
Whyles in the human bosom pryin',
Unseen thou lurks.

I've heard my reverend graunie say,
In lanely glens ye like to stray;
Or where auld, ruin'd castles, gray,
Nod to the moon,
Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way
Wi' eldritch croon.q

When twilight did my graunie summon,
To say her prayers, douce, honest woman !
Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin',

Wi' eeriet drone;

Or, rustlin', thro' the boortries" comin',

Wi' heavy groan.

Aew dreary, windy, winter night,

The stars shot down wi' sklentin' light;

g Small. h Give. i Strike, or beat.

I Flaming pit. m Bashful.

72

h Known.

Apt to be scared.

Wi you, mysel, I gat a fright,

Ayont the lough;

Ye, like a rash-bush, stood in sight,

Wi' waving sugh.

The cudgel in my nieveb did shake,
Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake,

When wi' an eldritch stour, quaick-quaick

Amang the springs,

Awa' ye squatter'dd like a drake,

On whistling wings.

Let warlockse grim, an' wither'd hags,
Tell how wi' you on ragweedf nags,
They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags,
Wi' wicked speed;
And in kirk-yards renew their leagues
Owre howkits dead.

Thence countra wives wi' toil an' pain,
May plunge an' plunge the kirnh in vain;
For, oh! the yellow treasure 's ta'en
By witching skill :
An' dawtit,1 twal-pintk Hawkie's1 gaenm

As yell's the Bill.

Thence mystic knots mak great abuse,
On young guidmen, fond, keen, an' crouse ;9

When the best wark-lume i' the house,

• By cantrip wit,

Is instant made no worth a louse,

Just at the bit.

When thowest dissolve the snawy hoord,
An' float the jingling icy-boord,

Then Water kelpies haunt the foord,
By your direction,

An' 'nighted trav'llers are allur'd

To their destruction.

An' aft your moss-traversing Spunkies,
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is,
The bleezin', curst, mischievous monkies

Delude his eyes,
Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne'er mair to rise.

When Masons' mystic word an' grip
In storms an' tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,

Or, strange to tell!
The youngest brother ye wad whip
Aff straught to h-ll!

Lang syne in Eden's bonnie yard,
When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd,
An' a' the soul of love they shar'd
The raptur'd hour,
Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry swaird,
In shady bow'r:

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing* dog!
Ye came to Paradise incog.

An' play'd on man a cursed brogue,
(Black be your fa'!)

An' gied the infant warld a shog,

'Maist ruin'd a'.

D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz,
Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz,b
Ye did present your smoutie phiz,
'Mang better folk,

An' sklentedd on the man of Uz

Your spitefu' joke?

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall,
An' brak him out o' house an' hall,
While scabs an' blotches did him gall,

Wi' bitter claw,

An' lows'de his ill-tongu'd wicked scawl,

Was warst ava?

But a' your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares an' fechtings fierce,
Sin' that da day Michaelh did you pierce,

Down to this time,
Wad ding1 a' Lallan tongue, or Erse,
In prose or rhyme.

An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye 're thinkin',
A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin',

Some luckless hour will send him linkin',

To your black pit;

But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin',

An' cheat you yet.

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!

O wad ye tak a thought an' men'!

Trick-contriving.

a Smoky clothes.

e Ugly, or smutty.

e Loosed. A scold.

y A violent shock. z Bustle.

b Withered, or scorched wig.

d Hit aslant, or obliquely.

Fighting. h Vide Milton, book vi

g

Ye aiblinsm might-I dinna kenn
Still hae a stake-

I'm wae to think upon yon den,
Ev'n for your sake !

ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.

EDINA! Scotia's darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,
Where once beneath a monarch's feet
Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs!
From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs,
As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd,
And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours,
I shelter in thy honour'd shade.
Here Wealth still swells the golden tide,
As busy Trade his labours plies;
There Architecture's noble pride
Bids elegance and splendour rise;
Here Justice, from her native skies,
High wields her balance and her rod;
There Learning, with his eagle eyes,
Seeks Science in her coy abode.

Thy sons, Edina, social, kind,

With open arms the stranger hail;
Their views enlarg'd, their lib'ral mind,
Above the narrow, rural vale;
Attentive still to sorrow's wail,

Or modest merit's silent claim;
And never may their sources fail!
And never envy blot their name!
Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn!
Gay as the gilded summer sky,

m Perhaps.

n Do not know.

• Written in the winter of 1784-5. The idea of an Address to the Deil was suggested to the poet, by running over in his mind the many ludicrous accounts and representatious we have, from various quarters, of this august personage.'-Gilbert Burns.

E