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Stern.

A WINTER NIGHT.

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm!
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these ?-SHAKSPEARE.

WHEN biting Boreas, fell and doure,1
Sharp shivers through the leafless bower;
When Phoebus gi'es a short-lived glower
Far south the lift,2

Dim darkening through the flaky shower,
Or whirling drift:

Ae night the storm the steeples rocked,
Poor labour sweet in sleep was locked,
While burns, wi' snawy wreeths up-choked,
Wild-eddying swirl,

Or through the mining outlet bocked,3

Down headlong hurl.

4

List'ning, the doors an' winnocks rattle,
I thought me on the ourie 5 cattle,
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle

O' winter war,

6

And through the drift, deep-lairing sprattle,?
Beneath a scar.8

9

Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing,
That, in the merry months o' spring,
Delighted me to hear thee sing,

What comes o' thee?

Whare wilt thou cower thy chittering wing,

An' close thy e'e?

Ev'n you on murdering errands toiled,

Lone from your savage homes exiled,

The blood-stained roost, and sheep-cote spoiled,

My heart forgets,

While pitiless the tempest wild

Sore on you beats.

Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign,

Dark muffled, viewed the dreary plain;

4 Windows.

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7 Wading, scramble.

8 Cliff.

3 Gushed.

6 Hurry.
9 Hopping.

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66

WINTER NIGHT.

Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train,
Rose in my soul,

When on my ear this plaintive strain,
Slow, solemn, stole :-

Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust!
And freeze, thou bitter biting frost!
Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows
Not all your rage, as now united, shows
More hard unkindness, unrelenting,
Vengeful malice unrepenting,

Than heaven-illumined Man on brother Man bestows!
See stern Oppression's iron grip,

Or mad Ambition's gory hand,

Sending, like bloodhounds from the slip,
Woe, want, and murder o'er a land!
Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale,
Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale,
How pampered Luxury, Flattery by her side,
The parasite empoisoning her ear,

With all the servile wretches in the rear,
Looks o'er proud property, extended wide;
And eyes the simple rustic hind,

Whose toil upholds the glittering show,
A creature of another kind,

Some coarser substance, unrefined,

Placed for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below.
Where, where is Love's fond, tender throe,

With lordly Honour's lofty brow,

The powers you proudly own?

Is there, beneath Love's noble name,

Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim,

To bless himself alone?

Mark maiden innocence a prey

To love-pretending snares;

This boasted honour turns away,
Shunning soft Pity's rising sway,

Regardless of the tears, and unavailing prayers!
Perhaps, this hour, in Misery's squalid nest,
She strains your infant to her joyless breast,
And with a mother's fears shrinks at the rocking blast;
Oh, ye, who, sunk in beds of down,

Feel not a want but what yourselves create,
Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate,
Whom friends and fortune quite disown!
Ill-satisfied keen Nature's clam'rous call,
Stretched on his straw he lays himself to sleep.
While, through the ragged roof and chinky wall,
Chill o'er his slumbers piles the drifty heap!

NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION.

Think on the dungeon's grim confine,
Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine!
Guilt, erring man, relenting view!
But shall thy legal rage pursue
The wretch, already crushèd low
By cruel fortune's undeservèd blow?
Affliction's sons are brothers in distress,

A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!"

I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer

Shook off the pouthery snaw,

And hailed the morning with a cheer,
A cottage-rousing craw.

But deep this truth impressed my mind-
Through all His works abroad,

The heart, benevolent and kind,
The most resembles God.

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SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE,

ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN
THE NEW YEAR.

A GUID New Year I wish thee, Maggie !
Hae, there's a rip' to thy auld baggie:
Though thou's howe-backit now and knaggie,
I've seen the day

Thou could hae

gaen like ony staggie
Out-owre the lay.3

Though now thou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy,
An' thy auld hide's as white's a daisy,
I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glaizie,
A bonny grey:

He should been tight that daur't to raize thee
Ance in a day.

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve, an' swank,5
An' set weel down a shapely shank

As e'er tread yird; 6

An' could hae flown out-owre a stank 7

Like onie bird.

1 A handful of corn in the stalks. 2 Sunk in the back and sharp-boned.

3 Lea.

5 Strong, active, and stately.

4 Spiritless.

6 Earth.

7 Ditch or morass.

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THE AULD FARMER'S

It's now some nine-an'-twenty year
Sin' thou was my guid father's meere;
He gied me thee, o' tocher' clear,
An' fifty mark;

Though it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,
An' thou was stark.2

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Though now ye dow but hoyte' and hobble,
An' wintle like a saumont coble,"

8

That day ye was a jinker 10 noble,

For heels an' win'!

An' ran them till they a' did wauble,"
Far, far behin'.

When thou an' I were young and skeigh,12
An' stable meals at fairs were dreigh,13
How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skreigh,

An' tak' the road!

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When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow,
We took the road ay like a swallow:
At brooses 15 thou had ne'er a fellow

For pith and speed;

But every tail thou pay't them hollow,

Whare'er thou gaed.

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NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION.

The sma', droop-rumpl't,' hunter cattle,
Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle;3
But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle,
An' gar't them whaizle: *

Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle 5
O' saugh or hazel.

Thou was a noble fittie-lan',"

As e'er in tug or tow was drawn!

Aft thee an' I, in aught hours gaun,

On guid March weather,

Hae turned sax rood beside our han',

For days thegither.

8

Thou never braindg't, an' fech't,' an' fliskit,10
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
An' spread abreed thy well-filled briskit,
Wi' pith and power,

Till spritty knowes " wad rair't 12 and risket,13
An' slypet owre.14

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep,
An' threatened labour back to keep,

15

I gied thy cog a wee bit heap

Aboon the timmer;

I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep

For that, or simmer.

In cart or car thou never reestit;

16

The steyest 17 brae thou wad hae fac't it;
Thou never lap, an' sten't, an' breastit,18
Then stood to blaw;

But just thy step a wee thing hastit,
Thou snoov't 19 awa'.

My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a';
Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw ;
Forbye sax mae, I've sell't awa,

20

That thou hast nurst:

They drew me thretteen pund an' twa,

The vera warst.

Sloping-backed.

3 Worse thee in a short race.

2 Perhaps.

4 Wheeze.

5 A switch.

7 The near horse of the hindmost pair at the plough.

8 Plunged forward.

9 Pulled by fits.

" Hillocks with rough-rooted plants in them.

13 Make a noise like the tearing of roots.

15 Wooden measure.

16 Timber.

18 Leaped, reared, or started forward.

19 Went smoothly and constantly.
20 My plough-team are all thy children.

6 Willow.

10 Fretted.

12 Rent.
14 Slip over,

17 Steepest.

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