« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
AULD BRIG. Conceited gowk! puff'd up wi' windy pride ! This mony a year I've stood the flood and tide ; And though wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn, I'll be a brig when ye're a shapeless cairn ! As yet ye little ken about the matter, But twa-three winters will inform ye better. When heavy, dark, continued, a'-day rains, Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains ; When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil, Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course, Or haunted Garpal draws his feeble source, Aroused by blustering winds and spotting thowes, In mony a torrent down his snaw-broo rowes ; While crashing ice, borne on the roaring spate, Sweeps dams, and mills, and brigs, a' to the gate; And from Glenbuck, down to the Ratton-key, Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd tumbling sea
hen down ye'll hurl, deil nor ye never rise! And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring skies. A lesson sadly teaching, to your cost, That Architecture's noble art is lost!
Fine Architecture, trowth, I needs must say o't, The Lord be thankit that we've tint the gate o't!
Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices,
O ye, my dear-remember'd ancient yealings, Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings ! Ye worthy proveses, and mony a bailie, Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil aye ; Ye dainty deacons, and ye douce conveeners, To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners !
Ye godly councils wha hae blest this town ;
and harbours !
NEILBRIG. Now haud you there! for faith ye've said enough, And muckle mair than ye can mak to through ; That's aye a string auld doited gray-beards harp on, A topic for their peevishness to carp on. As for your priesthood, I shall say but little, Corbies and clergy are a shot right kittle :
But, under favour o your langer beard,
What further clishmaclaver might been said, What bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed, No man can tell; but all before their sight, A fairy train appear'd in order bright : Adown the glittering stream they featly danced ; Bright to the moon their various dresses glanced : They footed o'er the watery glass so neat, The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet ;
While arts of minstrelsy among them rung,
Highland rage ;
The Genius of the stream in front appears, A venerable chief advanced in years; His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd, His manly leg with garter-tangle bound. Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring, Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring ; Then, crown'd with flowery hay, came Rural Joy, And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye : All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreathed with nodding corn ; Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show, By Hospitality with cloudless brow.