PART II.
Here, for ae night's kind protection,
Leave we Jean and weans a while;
Tracing W ILL in ilk direction,
Far frae B RITAIN'S fostering isle.
Far frae scenes o' saftening pleasure,
Love's delights and beauty's charms
Far frae friends and social leisure, —
Plunged in murdering W AR'S alarms.
Is it nature, vice, or folly,
Or Ambition's feverish brain,
That sae aft wi' melancholy
Turns, sweet P EACE ! thy joys to pain?
Strips thee of thy robes o' ermin,
(Emblems of thy spotless life)
And in W AR'S grim look alarming,
Arms thee with the murd'rer's knife!
A' thy gentle mind upharrows!
Hate, revenge, and rage appears!
And for hope and joy — (twin marrows),
Leaves the mourner drowned in tears!
W ILLIE G AIRLACE , without siller,
Credit, claise, or ought beside,
Leaves his ance-loved JeanIE M ILLER ,
And sweet bairns, to warld wide!
Leaves his native cozy dwelling,
Sheltered haughs, and birken braes;
Greenswaird hows, and dainty mealing,
Ance his profit, pride, and praise.
Deck't wi' scarlet, sword, and musket,
Drunk wi' dreams as fause as vain;
Fleeched and flattered, roosed and buskit,
Wow! but W ILL was wond'rous fain!
Rattling, roaring, swearing, drinking,
How could Thought her station keep?
Drams and drumming (faes to thinking)
Dozed reflection fast asleep.
But in midst o' toils and dangers,
Wi' the cauld ground for his bed,
Compassed round with faes and strangers,
Soon W ILL'S dreams o' fancy fled.
Led to battle's blood-dy'd banners,
Waving to the widow's moan!
W ILL saw glory's boasted honours
End in life's expiring groan!
Round Valenciennes' strong wa'd city,
Thick o'er Dunkirk's fatal plain,
W ILL (though dauntless) saw wi' pity
B RITAIN'S valiant sons lie slain!
Fired by Freedom's burning fever,
Gallia strack death's slaughtering knell:
Frae the Scheld to Rhine's deep river,
B RITONS fought — but B RITONS fell!
Fell unaided! though cemented
By the faith of Friendship's laws;
Fell unpity'd — unlamented!
Bleeding in a thankless cause!
In the thrang of comrades deeing,
Fighting foremost o' them a';
Swift! Fates winged ball cam fleeing,
And took W ILLIE'S leg awa.
Thrice frae aff the ground he started,
Thrice to stand he strave in vain:
Thrice, as fainting strength departed,
Sighed and sank 'mang hundreds slain.
Battle fast on battle raging,
Wed our stalwart youths awa';
Day by day, fresh faes engaging,
Forc'd the weary back to fa'!
Driven at last frae post to pillar,
Left by friends wha ne'er proved true;
Trick't by knaves, wha pouch'd our siller ,
What could worn-out valour do?
Myriads, dark like gathering thunder,
Bursting, spread owre land and sea;
Left alane, alas! nae wonder
B RITAIN'S sons were forced to flee!
Cross the W AAL and Y SSEL frozen,
Deep through bogs and drifted snaw;
Wounded — weak — and spent! our chosen
Gallant men now faint and fa'!
On a cart, wi' comrades bluiding,
Stiff wi' gore, and cauld as clay:
Without cover, bed, or bedding,
Five lang nights W ILL G AIRLACE lay!
In a sick-house, damp and narrow,
(Left behint wi' mony mair)
See W ILL next, in pain and sorrow,
Wasting on a bed of care.
Wounds, and pain, and burning fever,
Doctors cured wi' healing art; —
Cured! alas! — but never! never!
Cooled the fever at his heart!
For when a' were sound and sleeping,
Still and on, baith ear and late,
W ILL in briny grief lay steeping,
Mourning o er his hapless fate!
A' his gowden prospects vanished!
A' his dreams o' warlike fame! —
A' his glittering phantoms banished!
W ILL could think o' nought but — hame!
Think o' nought but rural quiet,
Rural labour! rural ploys!
Far frae carnage, blood, and riot,
W AR , and a' its murd ring joys.
Here, for ae night's kind protection,
Leave we Jean and weans a while;
Tracing W ILL in ilk direction,
Far frae B RITAIN'S fostering isle.
Far frae scenes o' saftening pleasure,
Love's delights and beauty's charms
Far frae friends and social leisure, —
Plunged in murdering W AR'S alarms.
Is it nature, vice, or folly,
Or Ambition's feverish brain,
That sae aft wi' melancholy
Turns, sweet P EACE ! thy joys to pain?
Strips thee of thy robes o' ermin,
(Emblems of thy spotless life)
And in W AR'S grim look alarming,
Arms thee with the murd'rer's knife!
A' thy gentle mind upharrows!
Hate, revenge, and rage appears!
And for hope and joy — (twin marrows),
Leaves the mourner drowned in tears!
W ILLIE G AIRLACE , without siller,
Credit, claise, or ought beside,
Leaves his ance-loved JeanIE M ILLER ,
And sweet bairns, to warld wide!
Leaves his native cozy dwelling,
Sheltered haughs, and birken braes;
Greenswaird hows, and dainty mealing,
Ance his profit, pride, and praise.
Deck't wi' scarlet, sword, and musket,
Drunk wi' dreams as fause as vain;
Fleeched and flattered, roosed and buskit,
Wow! but W ILL was wond'rous fain!
Rattling, roaring, swearing, drinking,
How could Thought her station keep?
Drams and drumming (faes to thinking)
Dozed reflection fast asleep.
But in midst o' toils and dangers,
Wi' the cauld ground for his bed,
Compassed round with faes and strangers,
Soon W ILL'S dreams o' fancy fled.
Led to battle's blood-dy'd banners,
Waving to the widow's moan!
W ILL saw glory's boasted honours
End in life's expiring groan!
Round Valenciennes' strong wa'd city,
Thick o'er Dunkirk's fatal plain,
W ILL (though dauntless) saw wi' pity
B RITAIN'S valiant sons lie slain!
Fired by Freedom's burning fever,
Gallia strack death's slaughtering knell:
Frae the Scheld to Rhine's deep river,
B RITONS fought — but B RITONS fell!
Fell unaided! though cemented
By the faith of Friendship's laws;
Fell unpity'd — unlamented!
Bleeding in a thankless cause!
In the thrang of comrades deeing,
Fighting foremost o' them a';
Swift! Fates winged ball cam fleeing,
And took W ILLIE'S leg awa.
Thrice frae aff the ground he started,
Thrice to stand he strave in vain:
Thrice, as fainting strength departed,
Sighed and sank 'mang hundreds slain.
Battle fast on battle raging,
Wed our stalwart youths awa';
Day by day, fresh faes engaging,
Forc'd the weary back to fa'!
Driven at last frae post to pillar,
Left by friends wha ne'er proved true;
Trick't by knaves, wha pouch'd our siller ,
What could worn-out valour do?
Myriads, dark like gathering thunder,
Bursting, spread owre land and sea;
Left alane, alas! nae wonder
B RITAIN'S sons were forced to flee!
Cross the W AAL and Y SSEL frozen,
Deep through bogs and drifted snaw;
Wounded — weak — and spent! our chosen
Gallant men now faint and fa'!
On a cart, wi' comrades bluiding,
Stiff wi' gore, and cauld as clay:
Without cover, bed, or bedding,
Five lang nights W ILL G AIRLACE lay!
In a sick-house, damp and narrow,
(Left behint wi' mony mair)
See W ILL next, in pain and sorrow,
Wasting on a bed of care.
Wounds, and pain, and burning fever,
Doctors cured wi' healing art; —
Cured! alas! — but never! never!
Cooled the fever at his heart!
For when a' were sound and sleeping,
Still and on, baith ear and late,
W ILL in briny grief lay steeping,
Mourning o er his hapless fate!
A' his gowden prospects vanished!
A' his dreams o' warlike fame! —
A' his glittering phantoms banished!
W ILL could think o' nought but — hame!
Think o' nought but rural quiet,
Rural labour! rural ploys!
Far frae carnage, blood, and riot,
W AR , and a' its murd ring joys.