Classic Poem

ACT V.

SCENE I.

SYMON .

What want ye, Bauldy, at this early hour,
When nature nods beneath the drowsy pow'r?
Far to the north, the scant approaching light
Stands equal 'twixt the morning and the night.
What gars ye shake, and glowre, and look sae wan?
Your teeth they chitter, hair like bristles stand.

BAULDY .

O len me soon some water, milk, or ale,
My head 's grown giddy, — legs with shaking fail: —
I 'll ne'er dare venture forth at night my lane. —
Alake! I 'll never be mysell again;
I 'll ne'er o'erput it. — Symon! O, Symon! O!
[Symon gives him a drink.

SYMON .

What ails thee, gowk, to make so loud ado? —
You 've wak'd Sir William, he has left his bed. —
He comes, I fear ill pleas'd; I hear his tread.

Enter S IR W ILLIAM .

SIR WILLIAM .

How goes the night? does day-light yet appear?
Symon, you 're very timeously asteer.

SYMON .

I 'm sorry, Sir, that we 've disturb'd your rest;
But some strange thing has Bauldy's sp'rit opprest,
He 's seen some witch, or wrestled with a ghaist.

BAULDY .

O! ay; dear Sir, in troth, 'tis very true;
And I am come to make my plaint to you.

SIR WILLIAM

(Smiling.)

I lang to hear 't.

BAULDY .

Ah! Sir, the witch caw'd Mause,
That wins aboon the mill amang the haws,
First promis'd that she 'd help me with her art,
To gain a bonny thrawart lassie's heart:
As she had trysted, I met wi'er this night;
But may nae friend of mine get sic a fright!
For the curst hag, instead of doing me good,
(The very thought o't 's like to freeze my blood!)
Rais'd up a ghaist, or deel, I kenna whilk,
Like a dead corse in sheet as white as milk;
Black hands it had, and face as wan as death.
Upon me fast the witch and it fell baith,
Lows'd down my breeks, while I, like a great fool,
Was labour'd as I wont to be at school.
My heart out of its hool was like to loup,
I pithless grew with fear, and had nae hope;
Till, with an elritch laugh, they vanish'd quite.
Syne I, haf dead with anger, fear, and spite,
Crap up, and fled straight frae them, Sir, to you,
Hoping your help to gi'e the deel his due.
I 'm sure my heart will ne'er gi'e o'er to dunt,
Till in a fat tar-barrel Mause be burnt.

SIR WILLIAM .

Well, Bauldy, whate'er 's just shall granted be;
Let Mause be brought this morning down to me.

BAULDY .

Thanks to your honour, soon shall I obey;
But first I 'll Roger raise, and twa three mae,
To catch her fast, or she get leave to squeel,
And cast her cantraips that bring up the deel.
[Exit B AULDY .

SIR WILLIAM .

Troth, Symon, Bauldy 's more afraid than hurt,
The witch and ghaist have made themselves good sport.
What silly notions crowd the clouded mind,
That is throw want of education blind!

SYMON .

But does your honour think there 's nae sic thing
As witches raising deels up throw a ring,
Syne playing tricks, a thousand I cou'd tell,
Cou'd never be contriv'd on this side hell?

SIR WILLIAM .

Such as the devil's dancing in a moor,
Amongst a few old women craz'd and poor,
Who were rejoic'd to see him frisk and lowp
O'er braes and bogs, with candles in his dowp;
Appearing sometimes like a black horn'd cow,
Aft-times like Bawty, Badrans, or a Sow;
Then with his train throw airy paths to glide,
While they on cats, or clowns, or broomstaffs ride;
Or in an egg-shell skim out o'er the main,
To drink their leader's health in France or Spain:
Then aft by night bumbaze hare-hearted fools,
By tumbling down their cupboards, chairs, and stools.
Whate'er 's in spells, or if there witches be,
Such whimsies seem the most absurd to me.

SYMON .

'Tis true enough, we ne'er heard that a witch
Had either meikle sense, or yet was rich:
But Mause, tho' poor, is a sagacious wife,
And lives a quiet and very honest life;
That gars me think this hobleshew that 's past
Will end in naithing but a joke at last.

SIR WILLIAM .

I 'm sure it will: — but see increasing light
Commands the imps of darkness down to night.
Bid raise my servants, and my horse prepare,
Whilst I walk out to take the morning air.

SANG XX.

The bonny grey-ey'd morn begins to peep,
And darkness flies before the rising ray,
The hearty hynd starts from his lazy sleep,
To follow healthfu' labours of the day;
Without a guilty sting to wrinkle his brow,
The lark and the linnet 'tend his levee,
And he joins the concert, driving the plow,
From toil of grimace and pageantry free.

While fluster'd with wine, or madden'd with loss
Of half an estate, the prey of a main,
The drunkard and gamester tumble and toss,
Wishing for calmness and slumber in vain.
Be my portion health and quietness of mind,
Plac'd at a due distance from parties and state;
Where neither ambition, nor avarice blind,
Reach him who has happiness link'd to his fate.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

GLAUD .

I wish, my bairns, it may keep fair till night,
Ye do not use so soon to see the light:
Nae doubt now ye intend to mix the thrang,
To take your leave of Patrick or he gang:
But do you think that now, when he 's a laird,
That he poor landwart lasses will regard?
JENNY .

Tho' he 's young master now, I 'm very sure
He has mair sense than slight auld friends, tho' poor:
But yesterday he ga'e us mony a tug,
And kiss'd my cousin there frae lug to lug.
GLAUD .

Ay, ay, nae doubt o't, and he 'll do 't again;
But be advis'd, his company refrain.
Before, he as a shepherd sought a wife,
With her to live a chaste and frugal life;
But now grown gentle, soon he will forsake
Sic godly thoughts, and brag of being a rake.
PEGGY .

A rake! what 's that? — Sure, if it means ought ill,
He 'll never be 't, else I have tint my skill.
GLAUD .

Daft lassie, you ken nought of the affair;
Ane young, and good, and gentle 's unco rare.
A rake 's a graceless spark, that thinks nae shame
To do what like of us thinks sin to name;
Sic are sae void of shame, they 'll never stap
To brag how aften they have had the clap;
They 'll tempt young things like you with youdith flush'd,
Syne mak ye a' their jest when you 're debauch'd.
Be wary then, I say, and never gi'e
Encouragement, or bourd with sic as he.
PEGGY .

Sir William 's virtuous, and of gentle blood;
And may not Patrick too, like him, be good?
GLAUD .

That 's true, and mony gentry mae than he,
As they are wiser, better are than we;
But thinner sawn: they 're sae pust up with pride,
There 's mony of them mocks ilk haly guide
That shaws the gate to heav'n: — I 've heard mysell
Some of them laugh at doomsday, sin, and hell.
JENNY .

Watch o'er us, father! — heh, that 's very odd;
Sure him that doubts a doomsday, doubts a God.
GLAUD .

Doubt! why they neither doubt, nor judge, nor think,
Nor hope, nor fear; but curse, debauch, and drink. —
But I 'm no saying this, as if I thought
That Patrick to sic gates will e'er be brought.
PEGGY .

The Lord forbid! na, he kens better things. —
But here comes aunt; her face some ferly brings.
Enter M ADGE .

MADGE .

Haste, haste ye, we 're a' sent for owre the gate,
To hear, and help to redd some odd debate
'Tween Mause and Bauldy, 'bout some witchcraft spell,
At Symon's house; the knight sits judge himsell.
GLAUD .

Lend me my staff. — Madge, lock the outer door.
And bring the lasses wi' ye; I 'll step before.
[Exit G LAUD .

MADGE .

Poor Meg! — Look, Jenny, was the like e'er seen?
How bleer'd and red with greeting look her een!
This day her brankan wooer taks his horse,
To strut a gentle spark at Edinburgh cross:
To change his kent cut frae the branchy plane,
For a nice sword, and glancing headed cane;
To leave his ram-horn spoons, and kitted whey,
For gentler tea that smells like new-won hay;
To leave the green-sward dance, when we gae milk,
To rustle amang the beauties clad in silk.
But Meg, poor Meg! man with the shepherds stay,
And tak what God will send, in hodden grey.
PEGGY .

Dear aunt, what needs ye fash us wi' your scorn?
That 's no my faut that I 'm nae gentler born.
Gif I the daughter of some laird had been,
I ne'er had notic'd Patie on the green:
Now since he rises, why should I repine?
If he 's made for another, he 'll ne'er be mine:
And then, the like has been, if the decree
Designs him mine, I yet his wife may be.
MADGE .

A bonny story, troth! — But we delay;
Prin up your aprons baith, and come away.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

SIR WILLIAM .

And was that all? — Well, Archbald, you was serv'd
No otherwise than what ye well deserv'd.
Was it so small a matter to defame
And thus abuse an honest woman's name?
Besides your going about to have betray'd,
By perjury, an innocent young maid.

BAULDY .

Sir, I confess my faut thro' a' the steps,
And ne'er again shall be untrue to Neps.

MAUSE .

Thus far, Sir, he oblig'd me on the score,
I ken'd not that they thought me sic before.

BAULDY .

An 't like your Honour, I believ'd it well;
But troth I was e'en doilt to seek the deel.
Yet, with your Honour's leave, tho' she 's nae witch,
She 's baith a slee and a revengfu' — — ,
And that my some place finds: — but I had best
Haud in my tongue, for yonder comes the ghaist,
And the young bonny witch whase rosie cheek
Sent me without my wit the deel to seek.

Enter M ADGE , Peggy , and J ENNY .

SIR WILLIAM

(Looking at Peggy .)

Whose daughter 's she that wears th' Aurora gown,
With face so fair, and locks a lovely brown? —
How sparkling are her eyes! — What 's this I find!
The girl brings all my sister to my mind:
Such were the features once adorn'd a face,
Which death too soon depriv'd of sweetest grace.
Is this your daughter, Glaud?

GLAUD .

Sir, she 's my niece; —
And yet she 's not: — but I should had my peace.

SIR WILLIAM .

This is a contradiction; what d' ye mean? —
She is, and she is not! — pray, Glaud, explain.

GLAUD .

Because I doubt if I should make appear
What I have kept a secret thirteen year.

MAUSE .

You may reveal what I can fully clear.

SIR WILLIAM .

Speak soon; I'm all impatience.

PATIE .

So am I;
For much I hope; and hardly yet know why.

GLAUD .

Then since my master orders, I obey: —
This bonny foundling, ae clear morn of May,
Close by the lee-side of my door I found,
All sweet and clean, and carefully hapt round
In infant weeds of rich and gentle make. —
What could they be (thought I) did thee forsake?
Wha, warse than brutes, cou'd leave expos'd to air
Sae much of innocence, sae sweetly fair,
Sae helpless young; — for she appear'd to me
Only about twa towmands auld to be.
I took her in my arms — the bairnie smil'd
With sic a look wad made a savage mild.
I hid the story, and she pass'd sincesyne
As a poor orphan, and a niece of mine: —
Nor do I rue my care about the wean,
For she 's well worth the care that I have tane.
Ye see she 's bonny; I can swear she 's good,
And am right sure she 's come of gentle blood: —
Of whom I kenna: — naithing ken I mair,
Than what I to your Honour now declare.

SIR WILLIAM .

This tale seems strange!

PATIE .

The tale delights my ear.

SIR WILLIAM .

Command your joys, young man, till truth appear.

MAUSE .

That be my task. — Now, Sir, bid all be hush;
Peggy may smile, thou hast no cause to blush.
Lang have I wish'd to see this happy day,
That I might safely to the truth give way;
That I may now Sir William Worthy name
The best and nearest parent she can claim.
He saw 't at first, and with quick eyes did trace
His sister's beauties in her doughter's face.

SIR WILLIAM .

Old woman, do not rave; prove what you say;
'Tis dangerous in affairs like this to play.

PATIE .

What reason, Sir, can an old woman have
To tell a lie, when she 's sae near her grave? —
But how or why it should be truth, I grant,
I everything that looks like reason want.

OMNES .

The story 's odd! — we wish we heard it out.

SIR WILLIAM .

Make haste, good woman, and resolve each doubt.

MAUSE

(Leading Peggy to S IR W ILLIAM .)

Sir, view me well; — has fifteen years so plew'd
A wrinkled face that you have often view'd,
That here I as an unknown stranger stand,
Who nurs'd her mother that now holds my hand?
Yet stronger proofs I 'll give if you demand.

SIR WILLIAM .

Ha, honest nurse! — where were my eyes before?
I know thy faithfulness, and need no more:
Yet from the lab'rinth to lead out my mind,
Say, to expose her who was so unkind? —

[S IR W ILLIAM embraces Peggy , and makes her sit by him.]

Yes, surely thou 'rt my niece; — truth must prevail: —
But no more words till Mause relate her tale.

PATIE .

Good nurse, dispatch thy story wing'd with blisses,
That I may give my cusin fifty kisses.

MAUSE .

Then it was I that sav'd her infant life,
Her death being threaten'd by an uncle's wife,
The story 's lang: — but I the secret knew,
How they pursu'd with avaricious view
Her rich estate, of which they 're now possest.
All this to me a confident confest.
I heard with horror, and with trembling dread,
They 'd smoor the sakeless orphan in her bed.
That very night, when all were sunk in rest,
At midnight hour the floor I saftly prest,
And staw the sleeping innocent away,
With whom I travell'd some few miles ere day.
All day I hid me; — when the day was done,
I kept my journey, lighted by the moon;
Till eastward fifty miles I reach'd these plains,
Where needful plenty glads your cheerful swains,
For fear of being found out, and to secure
My charge, I laid her at this shepherd's door;
And took a neighbouring cottage here, that I,
Whate'er should happen to her, might be by.
Here honest Glaud himsel, and Symon may
Remember well, how I that very day
Frae Roger's father took my little crove.

GLAUD

(With tears of joy running down his beard.)

I well remember 't. — Lord reward your love! —
Lang have I wish'd for this; for aft I thought
Sic knowledge some time shou'd about be brought.

PATIE .

'Tis now a crime to doubt: my joys are full,
With due obedience to my parent's will. —
Sir, with paternal love survey her charms,
And blame me not for rushing to her arms:
She 's mine by vows, and wou'd, tho' still unknown,
Have been my wife, when I my vows durst own.

SIR WILLIAM .

My niece, my daughter, welcome to my care;
Sweet image of thy mother, good and fair;
Equal with Patrick: — now my greatest aim
Shall be to aid your joys, and well-match'd flame.
My boy, receive her from your father's hand,
With as good will as either would demand.

[P ATIE and Peggy embrace, and kneel to S IR W ILLIAM .]


PATIE .

With as much joy this blessing I receive,
As ane wad life that 's sinking in a wave.

SIR WILLIAM

(Raises them.)

I give you both my blessing: — may your love
Produce a happy race, and still improve.

PEGGY .

My wishes are complete; my joys arise,
While I 'm haf dizzy with the blest surprise! —
And am I then a match for my ain lad,
That for me so much generous kindness had? —
Lang may Sir William bless these happy plains,
Happy while heaven grant he on them remains.

PATIE .

Be lang our guardian, still our master be,
We 'll only crave what you shall please to gi'e: —
Th' estate be yours, my Peggy 's ane to me.

GLAUD .

I hope your Honour now will take amends
Of them that sought her life for wicked ends.

SIR WILLIAM .

The base unnatural villain soon shall know,
That eyes above watch the affairs below:
I 'll strip him soon of all to her pertains,
And make him reimburse his ill-got gains.

PEGGY .

To me the views of wealth and an estate
Seem light, when put in balance with my Pate;
For his sake only I 'll ay thankful bow
For such a kindness, best of men, to you.

SYMON .

What double blythness wakens up this day! —
I hope now, Sir, you 'll no soon haste away:
Shall I unsaddle your horse, and gar prepare
A dinner for ye of hale country fare?
See how much joy unwrinkles every brow,
Our looks hing on the twa, and doat on you;
Even Bauldy the bewitch'd has quite forgot
Fell Madge's tawz, and pawky Mause's plot.

SIR WILLIAM .

Kindly old man! remain with you this day!
I never from these fields again will stray:
Masons and wrights shall soon my house repair,
And busy gardeners shall new planting rear;
My father's hearty table you soon shall see
Restor'd, and my best friends rejoice with me.

SYMON .

That 's the best news I heard this twenty year;
New day breaks up, rough times begin to clear.

GLAUD .

God save the king, and save Sir William lang,
To enjoy their ain, and raise the shepherd's sang!

ROGER .

Wha winna dance, wha will refuse to sing?
What shepherd's whistle winna lilt the spring?

BAULDY .

I 'm friends with Mause; with very Madge I 'm gree'd;
Altho' they skelpit me when woodly fleid:
I 'm now fu' blyth, and frankly can forgive,
To join and sing, Lang may Sir William live!

MADGE .

Lang may he live! — and, Archbald, learn to steek
Your gab a wee, and think before ye speak;
And never ca' her auld that wants a man,
Else ye may yet some witch's fingers ban.
This day I 'll with the youngest of you rant,
And brag for ay that I was ca'd the aunt
Of our young lady, my dear bonny bairn!

PEGGY .

No other name I 'll ever for you learn: —
And, my good nurse, how shall I gratefu' be
For a' thy matchless kindness done for me?

MAUSE .

The flowing pleasure of this happy day
Does fully all I can require repay.

SIR WILLIAM .

To faithful Symon, and, kind Glaud, to you,
And to your heirs, I give in endless feu
The mailens ye possess, as justly due,
For acting like kind fathers to the pair,
Who have enough besides, and these can spare.
Mause, in my house in calmness close your days,
With nought to do but sing your Maker's praise.

OMNES .

The Lord of heaven return your Honour's love,
Confirm your joys, and a' your blessings roove.

PATIE

(Presenting R OGER to S IR W ILLIAM .)

Sir, here 's my trusty friend, that always shar'd
My bosom secrets, ere I was a laird:
Glaud's daughter, Janet, (Jenny, think nae shame,)
Rais'd and maintains in him a lover's flame.
Lang was he dumb, at last he spak and won,
And hopes to be our honest uncle's son:
Be pleas'd to speak to Glaud for his consent,
That nane may wear a face of discontent.

SIR WILLIAM .

My son's demand is fair: — Glaud, let me crave
That trusty Roger may your daughter have
With frank consent; and while he does remain
Upon these fields, I make him chamberlain.

GLAUD .

You crowd your bounties, Sir! — what can we say,
But that we 're dyvours that can ne'er repay? —
Whate'er your Honour wills I shall obey.
Roger, my daughter with my blessing take,
And still our master's right your business make;
Please him, be faithful, and this auld grey head
Shall nod with quietness down among the dead.

ROGER .

I ne'er was good at speaking a' my days,
Or ever loo'd to make o'er great a fraise;
But for my master, father, and my wife,
I will employ the cares of all my life.

SIR WILLIAM .

My friends, I 'm satisfy'd you 'll all behave,
Each in his station, as I 'd wish or crave.
Be ever virtuous, soon or late ye 'll find
Reward and satisfaction to your mind.
The maze of life sometimes looks dark and wild,
And oft when hopes are highest we're beguil'd;
Aft when we stand on brinks of dark despair,
Some happy turn with joy dispels our care. —
Now all 's at rights, who sings best let me hear.

PEGGY .

When you demand, I readiest should obey:
I 'll sing you ane, the newest that I hae.

SANG XXI.

Tune — " Corn-riggs are bonny. "

My Patie is a lover gay,
His mind is never muddy,
His breath is sweeter than new hay,
His face is fair and ruddy;
His shape is handsome, middle size,
He 's comely in his wauking,
The shining of his een surprise,
'Tis heaven to hear him tauking.

Last night I met him on a bawk,
Where yellow corn was growing,
There mony a kindly word he spak,
That set my heart a glowing:
He kiss'd, and vow'd he wad be mine,
And loo'd me best of ony;
That gars me like to sing sinsyne,
O corn-riggs are bonny!

Let lasses of a silly mind
Refuse what maist they 're wanting,
Since we for yielding were design'd,
We chastely should be granting:
Then I 'll comply and marry Pate,
And syne my cockernony
He 's free to touzle air or late,
Where corn-riggs are bonny.