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WILLIE.

Sandy, gif this were ony common plea,
I should the lealest o' my counsel gie;
But mak or meddle betwixt man and wife
Is what I never did in a' my life.

It's wearin' now to the tail o' May,

And just between the bear-seed and the hay;

As lang's an orra mornin' may be spared,

Stap your wa's east the haugh, and tell the laird;
For he's a man weel versed in a' the laws,

Kens baith their out and ins, their cracks and flaws;
And aye right gleg, when things are out o' joint,
At settlin' o' a nice or kittle point.

But yonder's Jock; he'll ca' your owsen hame,
And tak thir tidings to your thrawart dame,
That ye're awa' ae peacefu' meal to prie,
And tak your supper, kail or sowens, wi' me.

THE GHAISTS:

A KIRK-YARD ECLOGUE.

Did you not say, in good Anne's day,
And vow and did protest, sir,
That when Hanover should come o'er,
We surely should be blest, sir?—

An auld sang made new again.

WHERE the braid planes in dowie murmurs wave
The ancint taps out-owre the cauld-clad grave,
Where Geordie Girdwood,* mony a lang spun day,
Houkit for gentlest banes the humblest clay,
Twa sheeted ghaists, sae grisly and sae wan,
'Mang lanely tombs their douff discourse began.

*A noted and characteristic grave-digger of old Edinburgh, who, in the course of a long professional career, is alleged to have turned over Greyfriars churchyard no fewer than seven times.

WATSON.*

Cauld blaws the nippin' north wi' angry sough,
And showers his hailstanes frae the castle cleugh
Owre the Greyfriars, where, at mirkest hour,
Bogles and spectres wont to tak their tour,
Harlin' the pows and shanks to hidden cairns,
Amang the hamlocks wild and sun-burnt ferns;
But nane the nicht, save you and I, hae come
Frae the drear mansions o' the midnight tomb.
Now when the dawnin's near, when cock maun craw,
And wi' his angry bougil gar's withdraw,
Ayont the kirk we'll stap, and their tak bield,
While the black hours our nightly freedom yield.

HERIOT.

I'm weel content: but binna cassen down,
Nor trow the cock will ca' ye hame owre soon;
For, though the eastern lift betokens day,
Changing her rokelay black for mantle grey,
Nae weirlike bird our knell of parting rings,
Nor sheds the caller moisture frae his wings.
Nature has changed her course; the birds o' day
Dozin' in silence on the bending spray,
While owlets round the craigs at noontide flee,
And bluidy hawks sit singin' on the tree.
Ah, Caledon! the land I ance held dear,
Sair mane mak I for thy destruction near;
And thou, Edina! ance my dear abode,
When royal Jamie sway'd the sovereign rod.
In thae blest days weel did I think bestow'd
To blaw thy poortith by wi' heaps o' gowd;
To mak thee sonsy seem wi' mony a gift,
And gar thy stately turrets speed the lift.

*The interlocutors in this poem are George Heriot and George Watson, the founders of two well-known institutions in Edinburgh for the support and education of the sons of decayed citizens. These institutions, or hospitals, are closely adjacent to Grayfriars churchyard.

In vain did Danish Jones, wi' gimgrack pains,
In Gothic sculpture fret the pliant stanes; *
In vain did he affix my statue here,

Brawly to busk wi' flowers ilk coming year-
My towers are sunk; my lands are barren now;
My fame, my honour, like my flowers maun dow.

WATSON.

Sure, Major Weir,t or some sic warlock wight,
Has flung beguilin' glamour owre your sight;
Or else some kittle cantrip, thrown, I ween,
Has bound in myrlgoes my ain twa een:
If ever aught frae sense could be believed
(And seenil hae my senses been deceived),
This moment owre the tap o' Adam's tomb,‡
Fu' easy can I see your chiefest dome.
Nae corbie fleein' there, nor croupin' craws,
Seem to forspeak the ruin o' thy ha's,
But a' your towers in wonted order stand,
Steeve as the rocks that hem our native land.

HERIOT.

Think na I vent my well-a-day in vain:

Kent ye the cause, ye sure wad join my maen.
Black be the day, that ere to England's ground
Scotland was eikit by the Union's bond!
For mony a menzie of destructive ills

The country now maun brook frae mortmain bills,

* Heriot's Hospital is said to have been designed by Inigo Jones.

Major Weir was a notorious wizard, the weird stories of whom haunt every close of old Edinburgh. His name figures in Sinclair's Invisible World Discovered, and other such works. Upon his own and his sister's confessions of witchcraft they were together brought up for trial, in April, 1670. He was sentenced to be strangled and burnt, and his sister to be hanged. The sentences were accordingly carried into execution.

A conspicuous mausoleum belonging to the family of William Adam of Maryborough, architect.

That void our test'ments, and can freely gie
Sic will and scoup to the ordain'd trustee,
That he may tir our stateliest riggings bare,
Nor acres, houses, wood, nor fishings spare,
Till he can lend the stoiterin' state a lift,
Wi' gowd in goupins, as a grassum gift;
In lieu o' whilk, we maun be weel content
To tyne the capital for three per cent.
A doughty sum, indeed, when now-a-days
They raise provisions as the stents they raise;
Yoke hard the poor, and let the rich chiels be
Pamper'd at ease by ithers' industry.

Hale interest for my fund can scantly now Cleed a' my callants' backs, and stap their mou. How maun their wames wi' sairest hunger slack, Their duds in targets flaff upon their back, When they are doom'd to keep a lastin' Lent, Starvin' for England's weel at three per cent!

WATSON.

Auld Reekie, then, may bless the gowden times,
When honesty and poortith baith are crimes.
She little kenn'd, when you and I endow'd
Our hospitals for back-gaun burghers' gude,
That e'er our siller or our lands should bring
A gude bien livin' to a back-gaun king;
Wha, thanks to ministry! is grown sae wise,
He downa chew the bitter cud o' vice:
For if frae Castlehill to Netherbow,
Wad honest houses bawdy-houses grow,
The crown wad never speir the price o' sin,
Nor hinder younkers to the de'il to rin;
But if some mortal grein for pious fame,

And leave the poor man's prayer to sain his name,
His gear maun a' be scatter'd by the claws

O' ruthless, ravenous, and harpy laws.

Yet should I think, although the bill tak place,
The council winna lack sae meikle grace

As let our heritage at wanworth gang,

Or the succeeding generations wrang

O' braw bien maintenance, and walth o' lear, Whilk else had drappit to their children's skair; For mony a deep, and mony a rare engine

Hae sprung frae Heriot's wark, and sprung frae mine.

HERIOT.

I find, my friend, but ye but little ken,
There's e'enow on the earth a set o' men,

Wha, if they get their private pouches lined,
Gi'e na a winnel-strae for a' mankind.

They'll sell their country, flae their conscience bare,
To gar the weigh-bauk turn a single hair.
The government need only bait the line
Wi' the prevailin' flie-the gowden coin!
Then our executors and wise trustees
Will sell them fishes in forbidden seas:
Upon their dwinin' country girn in sport;
Laugh in their sleeve, and get a place at court.

WATSON.

Ere that day come, I'll 'mang our spirits pick
Some ghaist that trokes and conjures wi' Auld Nick,
To gar the wind wi' rougher rumbles blaw,
And weightier thuds than ever mortal saw;
Fire-flaught and hail, wi' tenfauld fury's fires,
Shall lay yird-laigh Edina's airy spires:

Tweed shall rin rowtin' down his banks our-owre,
Till Scotland's out o' reach o' England's power,
Upon the briny Borean jaws to float,

And mourn in dowie soughs her dowie lot.

HERIOT.

Yonder's the tomb o' wise Mackenzie * famed,
Whase laws rebellious bigotry reclaim'd;

* Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, king's advocate or public prosecutor in the persecuting reigns of Charles II. and James II.

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