Classic Poem

ACT II.

SCENE I.

G LAUD and S YMON .

GLAUD .

Good morrow, nibour Symon: — come, sit down,
And gie 's your cracks. — What 's a' the news in town?
They tell me ye was in the ither day,
And sauld your Crummock, and her bassand quey.
I 'll warrant ye 've cost a pund of cut and dry:
Lug out your box, and gie 's a pipe to try.

SYMON .

With a' my heart: — and tent me now, auld boy,
I 've gather'd news will kittle your mind with joy.
I cou'dna rest till I came o'er the burn,
To tell ye things have taken sic a turn
Will gar our vile oppressors stend like flaes,
And skulk in hidlings on the hether braes.

GLAUD .

Fy blaw! — Ah! Symie, rattling chiels ne'er stand
To cleck, and spread the grossest lies aff-hand;
Whilk soon flies round like wild-fire far and near:
But loose your poke, be 't true or fause let 's hear.

SYMON .

Seeing 's believing, Glaud; and I have seen
Hab, that abroad has with our master been;
Our brave good master, wha right wisely fled,
And left a fair estate to save his head,
Because, ye ken fou well, he bravely chose
To shine or set in glory with Montrose.
Now Cromwell 's gane to Nick, and ane ca'd Monk
Has play'd the Rumple a right slee begunk;
Restor'd king Charles, and ilka thing 's in tune;
And Habby says, we 'll see Sir William soon.

GLAUD .

That makes me blyth indeed! — but dinna flaw,
Tell o'er your news again, and swear till 't a'.
And saw ye Hab? and what did Halbert say?
They have been e'en a dreary time away.
Now God be thanked that our laird 's come hame;
And his estate, say, can he eithly claim?

SYMON .

They that hag-rid us till our guts did grane,
Like greedy bears, dare nae mair do 't again,
And good Sir William sall enjoy his ain.

SANG VII.

Tune — " Cauld Kail in Aberdeen. "

Cauld be the rebels cast,
Oppressors base and bloody,
I hope we 'll see them at the last
Strung a' up in a woody.

Blest be he of worth and sense,
And ever high in station,
That bravely stands in the defence
Of conscience, king, and nation.

GLAUD .

And may he lang, for never did he stent
Us in our thriving with a racket rent;
Nor grumbl'd if ane grew rich, or shor'd to raise
Our mailens when we put on Sunday's claiths.

SYMON .

Nor wad he lang, with senseless saucy air,
Allow our lyart noddles to be bare:
" Put on your bonnet, Symon; tak a seat: —
" How 's all at hame? — how 's Elspa? — how does " Kate? —
" How sells black cattle? — what gi'es woo this " year? "
And sic like kindly questions wad he speer.

SANG VIII.

Tune — " Mucking of Geordy's byre. "

The laird who in riches and honour
Wad thrive, should be kindly and free,
Nor rack the poor tenants who labour
To rise aboon poverty;

Else, like the pack-horse that 's unfother'd
And burthen'd, will tumble down faint:
Thus virtue by hardships are smother'd,
And rackers aft tine their rent.

GLAUD .

Then wad he gar his butler bring bedeen
The nappy bottle ben, and glasses clean,
Whilk in our breast rais'd sic a blythsome flame,
As gart me mony a time gae dancing hame.
My heart 's e'en rais'd! — Dear nibour, will ye stay,
And tak your dinner here with me the day?
We 'll send for Elspith too; and upo' sight
I 'll whistle Pate and Roger frae the height.
I 'll yoke my sled, and send to the neist town,
And bring a draught of ale baith stout and brown;
And gar our cottars a', man, wife, and wean,
Drink 'till they tine the gate to stand their lane.

SYMON .

I wadna bauk my friend his blyth design,
Gif that it hadna first of a' been mine:
For here-yestreen I brew'd a bow of maut,
Yestreen I slew twa wethers prime and fat;
A furlet of good cakes my Elspa beuk,
And a large ham hangs reesting in the nook:
I saw mysell, or I came o'er the loan,
Our meikle pot, that scads the whey, put on,
A mutton bouk to boil, and ane we 'll roast;
And on the haggies Elspa spares nae cost;
Small are they shorn, and she can mix fou nice
The gusty ingans with a curn of spice;
Fat are the puddings; heads and feet well sung:
And we 've invited nibours auld and young,
To pass this afternoon with glee and game,
And drink our master's health and welcome hame:
Ye mauna then refuse to join the rest,
Since ye 're my nearest friend that I like best:
Bring wi' ye all your family; and then,
Whene'er you please, I 'll rant wi' you again.

GLAUD .

Spoke like ye'rsell, auld birky; never fear
But at your banquet I shall first appear:
Faith, we shall bend the bicker, and look bauld,
Till we forget that we are fail'd or auld; —
Auld, said I! — troth, I'm younger be a score,
With this good news, than what I was before;
I 'll dance or een. — Hey, Madge! come forth, d' ye hear?

Enter M ADGE .

MADGE .

The man 's gane gyte! — Dear Symon, welcome here. —
What wad ye, Glaud, with a' this haste and din?
Ye never let a body sit to spin.

GLAUD .

Spin! Snuff! — Gae break your wheel, and burn your tow,
And set the meiklest peet-stack in a low;
Syne dance about the bane-fire till ye die,
Since now again we 'll soon Sir William see.

MADGE .

Blyth news indeed! — And wha was 't tald you o't?

GLAUD .

What 's that to you? — Gae get my Sunday's coat;
Wale out the whitest of my bobit bands,
My whyt skin hose, and mittans for my hands;
Then frae their washing cry the bairns in haste,
And mak ye'rsells as trig, head, feet, and waist,
As ye were a' to get young lads or een;
For we 're gawn o'er to dine with Sym bedeen.

SYMON .

Do, honest Madge: and, Glaud, I 'll o'er the gate,
And see that a' be done as I wad hae 't.

SCENE II.

B AULDY his lane.

What 's this? — I canna bear 't! — 'tis war than hell,
To be sae burnt with love, yet darna tell!
O Peggy! sweeter than the dawning day,
Sweeter than gowany glens or new-mawn hay;
Blyther than lambs that frisk out o'er the knows;
Straighter than aught that in the forest grows:
Her een the clearest blob of dew out-shines;
The lily in her breast its beauty tines;
Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, her een,
Will be my deid, that will be shortly seen!
For Pate loo's her, (waes me!) and she loo's Pate;
And I with Neps, by some unlucky fate,
Made a daft vow. — O! but ane be a beast,
That makes rash aiths till he 's afore the priest.
I darna speak my mind, else a' the three,
But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy.
'Tis sair to thole. — I 'll try some witchcraft art,
To break with ane, and win the other's heart.
Here Mausy lives, a witch that for sma' price
Can cast her cantraips, and gi'e me advice:
She can o'ercast the night, and cloud the moon,
And mak the deils obedient to her crune:
At midnight hours, o'er the kirk-yard she raves,
And howks unchristen'd weans out of their graves;
Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow:
Rins withershins about the hemlock low;
And seven times does her prayers backwards pray,
Till Plotcock comes with lumps of Lapland clay,
Mixt with the venom of black taids and snakes:
Of this unsonsy pictures aft she makes
Of any ane she hates, and gars expire
With slow and racking pains afore a sire,
Stuck fou of pins; the devilish pictures melt;
The pain by fowk they represent is felt.
And yonder 's Mause: — ay, ay, she kens fou weil,
When ane like me comes rinning to the deil.
She and her cat sit beeking in her yard:
To speak my errand, faith, amaist I 'm fear'd:
But I maun do 't, tho' I should never thrive:
They gallop fast that deils and lasses drive.

SCENE III.

MAUSE .

SANG IX.

Tune — " Carle and the king come. "

Peggy, now the king 's come,
Peggy, now the king's come,
Thou may dance, and I shall sing,
Peggy, since the king 's come:
Nae mair the haukeys shalt thou milk,
But change thy plaiding-coat for silk,
And be a lady of that ilk,
Now, Peggy, since the king 's come.

Enter B AULDY .

BAULDY .

How does auld honest lucky of the glen?
Ye look baith hale and fair at threescore-ten.

MAUSE .

E'en twining out a thread with little din,
And beeking my cauld limbs afore the sun.
What brings my bairn this gate sae air at morn?
Is there nae muck to lead, to thresh nae corn?

BAULDY .

Enough of baith: but something that requires
Your helping hand employs now all my cares.

MAUSE .

My helping hand! alake, what can I do,
That underneath baith eild and poortith bow?

BAULDY .

Ay, but you 're wise, and wiser far than we,
Or maist part of the parish tells a lie.

MAUSE .

Of what kind wisdom think ye I 'm possest,
That lifts my character aboon the rest?

BAULDY .

The word that gangs, how ye 're sae wise and fell,
Ye 'll may be tak it ill gif I sou'd tell.

MAUSE .

What fowk say of me, Bauldy, let me hear;
Keep naithing up, ye naithing have to fear.

BAULDY .

Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a'
That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaw.
When last the wind made Glaud a roofless barn;
When last the burn bore down my mither's yarn;
When Brawny, elf-shot, never mair came hame;
When Tibby kirn'd, and there nae butter came;
When Bessy Freetock's chuffy-cheeked wean
To a fairy turn'd, and cou'dna stand its lane;
When Wattie wander'd ae night thro' the shaw,
And tint himsell amaist amang the snaw;
When Mungo's mare stood still and swat wi' fright,
When he brought east the howdy under night;
When Bawsy shot to dead upon the green;
And Sara tint a snood was nae mair seen;
You, Lucky, gat the wyte of a' fell out;
And ilka ane here dreads ye round about,
And sae they may that mean to do ye skaith:
For me to wrang ye, I 'll be very laith;
But when I neist make groats, I 'll strive to please
You with a firlot of them mixt with pease.

MAUSE .

I thank ye, lad: — now tell me your demand,
And, if I can, I 'll lend my helping hand.

BAULDY .

Then, I like Peggy; Neps is fond of me;
Peggy likes Pate; and Patie 's bauld and slee,
And loo's sweet Meg; but Neps I downa see.
Cou'd ye turn Patie's love to Neps, and then
Peggy's to me, I 'd be the happiest man.

MAUSE .

I 'll try my art to gar the bowls row right;
Sae gang your ways and come again at night;
'Gainst that time I 'll some simple things prepare,
Worth all your pease and groats, tak ye na care.

BAULDY .

Well, Mause, I 'll come, gif I the road can find:
But if ye raise the de'il, he 'll raise the wind;
Syne rain and thunder, may be, when 'tis late,
Will make the night sae mirk, I 'll tine the gate.
We 're a' to rant in Symie's at a feast,
O! will ye come like badrans for a jest?
And there you can our different haviours spy;
There 's nane shall ken o't there but you and I.

MAUSE .

'Tis like I may: — but let na on what 's past
'Tween you and me, else fear a kittle cast.

BAULDY .

If I aught of your secrets e'er advance,
May ye ride on me ilka night to France.

M AUSE her lane.

This fool imagines, as do mony sic,
That I 'm a witch in compact with Auld Nick,
Because by education I was taught
To speak and act aboon their common thought.
Their gross mistake shall quickly now appear;
Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me here.
Now since the royal Charles, and right 's restor'd,
A shepherdess is daughter to a lord.
The bonny foundling that 's brought up by Glaud,
Wha has an uncle's care on her bestow'd,
Her infant life I sav'd, when a false friend
Bow'd to th' usurper, and her death design'd,
To establish him and his in all these plains
That by right heritage to her pertains.
She 's now in her sweet bloom, has blood and charms
Of too much value for a shepherd's arms:
None know 't but me: — and if the morn were come,
I 'll tell them tales will gar them all sing dumb.

SCENE IV.

P ATIE and P EGGY .

PEGGY .

O Patie! let me gang; I mauna stay;
We 're baith cry'd hame, and Jenny she 's away.

PATIE .

I 'm laith to part sae soon, now we 're alane,
And Roger he 's away with Jenny gane:
They 're as content, for aught I hear or see,
To be alane themselves, I judge, as we.
Here, where primroses thickest paint the green,
Hard by this little burnie let us lean:
Hark how the lav'rocks chant aboon our heads,
How saft the westlin winds sough through the reeds.

PEGGY .

The scented meadows, birds, and healthy breeze,
For aught I ken, may mair than Peggy please.

PATIE .

Ye wrang me sair, to doubt my being kind;
In speaking sae, ye ca' me dull and blind,
Gif I cou'd fancy aught 's sae sweet or fair
As my sweet Meg, or worthy of my care.
Thy breath is sweeter than the sweetest brier,
Thy cheek and breast the finest flow'rs appear:
Thy words excel the maist delightfu' notes
That warble through the merle or mavis' throats;
With thee I tent nae flowers that busk the field,
Or ripest berries that our mountains yield;
The sweetest fruits that hing upon the tree,
Are far inferior to a kiss of thee.

PEGGY .

But Patrick for some wicked end may fleech,
And lambs should tremble when the foxes preach.
I darna stay; ye joker, let me gang,
Or swear ye 'll never 'tempt to do me wrang.

PATIE .

Sooner a mother shall her fondness drap,
And wrang the bairn sits smiling on her lap;
The sun shall change, the moon to change shall cease;
The gaits to clim, the sheep to yield the fleece;
Ere aught by me be either said or doon,
Shall do thee wrang. — I swear by all aboon.

PEGGY .

Then keep your aith. — But mony lads will swear,
And be mansworn to twa in half a year.
Now I believe ye like me wonder weel;
But if anither lass your heart should steal,
Your Meg, forsaken, bootless might relate
How she was dauted anes by faithless Pate.

PATIE .

I 'm sure I canna change; ye needna fear,
Tho' we 're but young, I 've loo'd ye mony a year:
I mind it well, when thou could'st hardly gang,
Or lisp out words, I choos'd thee frae the thrang
Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand,
Aft to the tansy know or rashy strand;
Thou smiling by my side: — I took delight
To pou the rashes green, with roots sae white,
Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd,
For thee I plet the flow'ry belt and snood.

PEGGY .

When first thou gade with shepherds to the hill,
And I to milk the ews first try'd my skill,
To bear a leglen was nae toil to me,
When at the bught at ev'n I met with thee.

SANG X.

Tune — " Winter was cauld, and my claithing was thin. "

PEGGY .

When first my dear laddie gade to the green hill,
And I at ewe-milking first sey'd my young skill,
To bear the milk bowie no pain was to me,
When I at the bughting forgather'd with thee.

PATIE .

When corn-riggs wav'd yellow, and blue hether-bells
Bloom'd bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells,
Nae birns, brier, or breckens, gave trouble to me,
If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee.

PEGGY .

When thou ran, or wrestled, or putted the stane,
And came off the victor, my heart was ay fain;
Thy ilka sport manly gave pleasure to me;
For nane can putt, wrestle, or run swift as thee.

PATIE .

Our Jenny sings saftly the " Cowden broom " knows; "
And Rosie lilts swiftly the " Milking the ews; "
There 's few " Jenny Nettles " like Nansy can sing;
At " Throw the wood, laddie, " Bess gars our lugs ring:

But when my dear Peggy sings, with better skill,
The " Boatman, " " Tweed-side, " or the " Lass " of the mill, "
'Tis mony times sweeter and pleasing to me;
For tho' they sing nicely, they cannot like thee.

PEGGY .

How easy can lasses trow what they desire!
And praises sae kindly increases love's fire;
Give me still this pleasure, my study shall be
To make myself better and sweeter for thee.

PATIE .

When corns grew yellow, and the hetherbells
Bloom'd bonny on the moor and rising fells,
Nae birns, or briers, or whins, e'er troubled me,
Gif I could find blae-berries ripe for thee.

PEGGY .

When thou didst wrestle, run, or putt the stane,
And wan the day, my heart was flightering fain:
At all these sports thou still gave joy to me,
For nane can wrestle, run, or putt with thee.

PATIE .

Jenny sings saft the " Broom of Cowden- " knows; "
And Rosie lilts the " Milking of the ews; "
There 's nane like Nansy " Jenny Nettles sings; "
At turns in " Maggy Lawder " Marion dings:
But when my Peggy sings, with sweeter skill,
The " Boatman, " or the " Lass of Patie's mill, "
It is a thousand times mair sweet to me;
Tho' they sing well, they canna sing like thee.

PEGGY .

How eith can lasses trow what we desire!
And, rees'd by them we love, blaws up the fire:
But wha loves best let time and carriage try;
Be constant, and my love shall time defy:
Be still as now, and a' my care shall be,
How to contrive what pleasant is for thee.

PATIE .

Wert thou a giglit gawky like the lave,
That little better than our nowt behave;
At naught they 'll ferly, senseless tales believe,
Be blyth for silly hechts, for trifles grieve;
Sic ne'er cou'd win my heart, that kenna how
Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true:
But thou in better sense without a flaw,
As in thy beauty, far excels them a'.
Continue kind, and a' my care shall be
How to contrive what pleasing is for thee.

PEGGY .

Agreed: — but hearken, yon 's auld aunty's cry,
I ken they 'll wonder what can make us stay.

PATIE .

And let them ferly. — Now a kindly kiss,
Or fivescore good anes wad not be amiss;
And syne we 'll sing the sang with tunefu' glee,
That I made up last owk on you and me.

PEGGY .

Sing first, syne claim your hyre.

PATIE .

Well, I agree.

SANG XI.

To its awn tune.

By the delicious warmness of thy mouth,
And rowing eye that smiling tells the truth,
I guess, my lassie, that, as well as I,
Ye 're made for love, and why should ye deny?

PEGGY .

But ken ye lad, gif we confess o'er soon,
Ye think us cheap, and syne the wooing 's done:
The maiden that o'er quickly tines her pow'r,
Like unripe fruit will taste but hard and sour.

PATIE .

But gin they hing o'er lang upon the tree,
Their sweetness they may tyne, and say may ye;
Red-cheeked ye completely ripe appear,
And I have thol'd and woo'd a lang half year.

PEGGY

(Falling into Patie's arms.)

Then dinna pow me, gently thus I fa'
Into my Patie's arms for good and a':
But stint your wishes to this kind embrace,
And mint nae farther till we 've got the grace.

PATIE

(With his left hand about her waist.)

O charming armfu'! — Hence ye cares away,
I 'll kiss my treasure a' the live lang day;
All night I 'll dream my kisses o'er again,
Till that day come that ye 'll be a' my ain.

BOTH .

Sun, gallop down the westlin skies,
Gang soon to bed, and quickly rise;
O lash your steeds, post time away,
And haste about our bridal-day;
And if you 're weary'd, honest light,
Sleep, gin ye like, a week that night.