Chapter VI: Preface (5)

_Mad._ Sic nonsense! love tak root, but tocher-good,
'Tween a herd's bairn, and ane of gentle blood!
Sic fashions in King Bruce's days might be;
But siccan ferlies now we never see.

_Mause._ Gif Pate forsakes her, Bauldy she may gain; }
Yonder he comes, and wow but he looks fain! }
Nae doubt he thinks that Peggy's now his ain. }

_Mad._ He get her! slaverin doof; it sets him weil
To yoke a plough where Patrick thought to till.
Gif I were Meg, I'd let young Master see--

_Mause._ Ye'd be as dorty in your choice as he:
And so wad I. But whisht, here Bauldy comes.

_Enter_ BAULDY _singing._

Jenny _said to_ Jocky, _gin ye winna tell,
Ye shall be the lad, I'll be the lass mysell;
Ye're a bonny lad, and I'm a lassie free;
Ye're welcomer to tak me than to let me be._

I trow sae.--Lasses will come to at last,
Tho' for a while they maun their snaw-ba's cast.

_Mause._ Well, Bauldy, how gaes a'?--

_Baul._ ----Faith unco right:
I hope we'll a' sleep sound but ane this night.

_Mad._ And wha's the unlucky ane, if we may ask?

_Baul._ To find out that, is nae difficult task;
Poor bonny Peggy, wha maun think nae mair
On Pate, turn'd Patrick, and Sir William's heir.
Now, now, good Madge, and honest Mause, stand be,
While Meg's in dumps, put in a word for me.
I'll be as kind as ever Pate could prove;
Less wilful, and ay constant in my love.

_Mad._ As Neps can witness, and the bushy thorn,
Where mony a time to her your heart was sworn:
Fy! Bauldy, blush, and vows of love regard;
What other lass will trow a mansworn herd?
The curse of Heaven hings ay aboon their heads,
That's ever guilty of sic sinfu' deeds.
I'll ne'er advise my niece sae gray a gate;
Nor will she be advis'd, fu' well I wate.

_Baul._ Sae gray a gate! mansworn! and a' the rest:
Ye leed, _auld Roudes_--and, in faith, had best
Eat in your words; else I shall gar ye stand
With a het face afore the haly band.

_Mad._ Ye'll gar me stand! ye sheveling-gabit brock;
Speak that again, and, trembling, dread my rock,
And ten sharp nails, that when my hands are in,
Can flyp the skin o'ye'r cheeks out o'er your chin.

_Baul._ I tak ye witness, Mause, ye heard her say,
That I'm mansworn:--I winna let it gae.

_Mad._ Ye're witness too, he ca'd me bonny names,
And should be serv'd as his good breeding claims.
Ye filthy dog!----

[_Flees to his hair like a fury.--A stout battle.--Mause endeavours to redd them._

_Mause._ Let gang your grips, fy, Madge! howt, Bauldy leen:
I wadna wish this tulzie had been seen;
'Tis sae daft like.----

[_Bauldy gets out of Madge's clutches with a bleeding nose._

_Mad._ ----'Tis dafter like to thole
An ether-cap, like him, to blaw the coal:
It sets him well, with vile unscrapit tongue,
To cast up whether I be auld or young;
They're aulder yet than I have married been,
And or they died their bairns' bairns have seen.

_Mause._ That's true; and Bauldy ye was far to blame, }
To ca' Madge ought but her ain christen'd name. }

_Baul._ My lugs, my nose, and noddle finds the same. }

_Mad._ Auld Roudes! filthy fallow; I shall auld ye.

_Mause._ Howt no!--ye'll e'en be friends with honest Bauldy.
Come, come, shake hands; this maun nae farder gae:
Ye maun forgi'e'm. I see the lad looks wae.

_Baul._ In troth now, Mause, I have at Madge nae spite:
But she abusing first, was a' the wite
Of what has happen'd: And should therefore crave
My pardon first, and shall acquittance have.

_Mad._ I crave your pardon! Gallows-face, gae greet,
And own your faut to her that ye wad cheat:
Gae, or be blasted in your health and gear,
'Till ye learn to perform, as well as swear.
Vow, and lowp back!--was e'er the like heard tell?
Swith, tak him deil; he's o'er lang out of hell.

_Baul._ [_running off._] His presence be about us! Curst were he
That were condemn'd for life to live with thee.

[_Exit_ BAULDY.

_Mad._ [_laughing._] I think I've towzl'd his harigalds a wee;
He'll no soon grein to tell his love to me.
He's but a rascal that wad mint to serve
A lassie sae, he does but ill deserve.

_Mause._ Ye towin'd him tightly,--I commend ye for't;
His blooding snout gave me nae little sport:
For this forenoon he had that scant of grace,
And breeding baith,--to tell me to my face,
He hop'd I was a Witch, and wadna stand,
To lend him in this case my helping hand.

_Mad._ A Witch!--How had ye patience this to bear,
And leave him een to see, or lugs to hear?

_Mause._ Auld wither'd hands, and feeble joints like mine,
Obliges fowk resentment to decline;
Till aft 'tis seen, when vigour fails, then we
With cunning can the lake of pith supplie.
Thus I pat aff revenge till it was dark,
Syne bade him come, and we should gang to wark:
I'm sure he'll keep his triste; and I came here
To seek your help, that we the fool may fear.

_Mad._ And special sport we'll have, as I protest;
Ye'll be the Witch, and I shall play the Ghaist;
A linen sheet wond round me like ane dead,
I'll cawk my face, and grane, and shake my head.
We'll fleg him sae, he'll mint nae main to gang
A conjuring, to do a lassie wrang.

_Mause._ Then let us go; for see, 'tis hard on night,
The westlin cloud shines red with setting light.

[_Exeunt._

_ACT IV.--SCENE II._

When birds begin to nod upon the bough,
And the green swaird grows damp with falling dew,
While good Sir William is to rest retir'd,
The Gentle Shepherd tenderly inspir'd,
Walks through the broom with Roger ever leel,
To meet, to comfort Meg, and tak farewell.

PATIE _and_ ROGER.

_Roger._

Wow! but I'm cadgie, and my heart lowps light.
O, Mr. Patrick! ay your thoughts were right:
Sure gentle fowk are farther seen than we,
That nathing ha'e to brag of pedigree.
My Jenny now, wha brak my heart this morn,
Is perfect yielding,--sweet,--and nae mair scorn.
I spake my mind--she heard--I spake again,
She smil'd--I kiss'd--I woo'd, nor woo'd in vain.

_Pat._ I'm glad to hear't--But O my change this day
Heaves up my joy, and yet I'm sometimes wae.
I've found a father, gently kind as brave,
And an estate that lifts me 'boon the lave.
With looks all kindness, words that love confest; }
He all the father to my soul exprest, }
While close he held me to his manly breast. }
Such were the eyes, he said, thus smil'd the mouth
Of thy lov'd mother, blessing of my youth;
Who set too soon!--And while he praise bestow'd,
Adown his graceful cheek a torrent flow'd.
My new-born joys, and this his tender tale,
Did, mingled thus, o'er a' my thoughts prevail:
That speechless lang, my late kend Sire I view'd,
While gushing tears my panting breast bedew'd.
Unusual transports made my head turn round, }
Whilst I myself with rising raptures found }
The happy son of ane sae much renown'd. }
But he has heard!--too faithful Symon's fear
Has brought my love for Peggy to his ear:
Which he forbids.--Ah! this confounds my peace,
While thus to beat, my heart shall sooner cease.

_Rog._ How to advise ye, troth I'm at a stand:
But were't my case, ye'd clear it up aff hand.

_Pat._ Duty, and haflen reason plead his cause:
But what cares love for reason, rules and laws?
Still in my heart my shepherdess excells,
And part of my new happiness repells.

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XVI.--_Tune_, Kirk wad let me be.

_Duty and part of reason
Plead strong on the parent's side,
Which love so superior calls treason;
The strongest must be obey'd:
For now, tho' I'm one of the gentry,
My constancy falshood repells;
For change in my heart has no entry,
Still there my dear_ Peggy _excells._

_Rog._ Enjoy them baith.--Sir William will be won:
Your Peggy's bonny;--you're his only son.

_Pat._ She's mine by vows, and stronger ties of love;
And frae these bands nae change my mind shall move.
I'll wed nane else; thro' life I will be true:
But still obedience is a parent's due.

_Rog._ Is not our master and yoursell to stay
Amang us here?--or are ye gawn away
To London court, or ither far aff parts,
To leave your ain poor us with broken hearts?

_Pat._ To Edinburgh straight to-morrow we advance, }
To London neist, and afterwards to France, }
Where I must stay some years, and learn--to dance, }
And twa three other monky-tricks.--That done,
I come hame struting in my red-heel'd shoon.
Then 'tis design'd, when I can well behave,
That I maun be some petted thing's dull slave,
For some few bags of cash, that I wat weel
I nae mair need nor carts do a third wheel.
But Peggy, dearer to me than my breath,
Sooner than hear sic news, shall hear my death.

_Rog._ _They wha have just enough, can soundly sleep;
The o'ercome only fashes fowk to keep._----
Good Mr. Patrick, tak your ain tale hame. }

_Pat._ What was my morning thought, at night's the same. }
The poor and rich but differ in the name. }
Content's the greatest bliss we can procure
Frae 'boon the lift.--Without it kings are poor.

_Rog._ But an estate like your's yields braw content,
When we but pick it scantly on the bent:
Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, and red wine,
Good chear, and witty friends, whene'er ye dine;
Obeysant servants, honour, wealth and ease:
Wha's no content with these, are ill to please.

_Pat._ Sae Roger thinks, and thinks not far amiss;
But mony a cloud hings hovering o'er the bliss.
The passions rule the roast,--and, if they're sowr,
Like the lean ky, will soon the fat devour.
The spleen, tint honour, and affronted pride,
Stang like the sharpest goads in gentry's side.
The gouts and gravels, and the ill disease,
Are frequentest with fowk o'erlaid with ease;
While o'er the moor the shepherd, with less care,
Enjoys his sober wish, and halesome air.

_Rog._ Lord, man! I wonder ay, and it delights
My heart, whene'er I hearken to your flights.
How gat ye a' that sense, I fain wad lear,
That I may easier disappointments bear?

_Pat._ Frae books, the wale of books, I gat some skill;
These best can teach what's real good and ill.
Ne'er grudge ilk year to ware some stanes of cheese,
To gain these silent friends that ever please.

_Rog._ I'll do't, and ye shall tell me which to buy:
Faith I'se ha'e books, tho' I should sell my ky.
But now let's hear how you're design'd to move,
Between Sir William's will, and Peggy's love?

_Pat._ Then here it lyes;--His will maun be obey'd; }
My vows I'll keep, and she shall be my bride: }
But I some time this last design maun hide. }
Keep you the secret close, and leave me here;
I sent for Peggy, yonder comes my dear.

_Rog._ Pleas'd that ye trust me with the secret, I
To wyle it frae me a' the deils defy. [_Exit_ ROGER.

_Pat._ [_solus._] With what a struggle must I now impart
My father's will to her that hads my heart!
I ken she loves, and her saft saul will sink,
While it stands trembling on the hated brink
Of disappointment.--Heaven! support my fair,
And let her comfort claim your tender care.
Her eyes are red!----

_Enter_ PEGGY.

----My Peggy, why in tears?
Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears:
Tho' I'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I'm thine.

_Peg._ I dare not think sae high: I now repine
At the unhappy chance, that made not me
A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee.
Wha can, withoutten pain, see frae the coast
The ship that bears his all like to be lost?
Like to be carry'd, by some rever's hand,
Far frae his wishes, to some distant land?

_Pat._ Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it with me remains,
To raise thee up, or still attend these plains.
My father has forbid our loves, I own:
But love's superior to a parent's frown.
I falshood hate: Come, kiss thy cares away;
I ken to love, as well as to obey.
Sir William's generous; leave the task to me,
To make strict duty and true love agree.

_Peg._ Speak on!--speak ever thus, and still my grief;
But short I dare to hope the fond relief.
New thoughts a gentler face will soon inspire,
That with nice air swims round in silk attire:
Then I, poor me!--with sighs may ban my fate,
When the young laird's nae mair my heartsome Pate:
Nae mair again to hear sweet tales exprest,
By the blyth shepherd that excell'd the rest:
Nae mair be envy'd by the tattling gang,
When Patie kiss'd me, when I danc'd or sang:
Nae mair, alake! we'll on the meadow play!
And rin haff breathless round the rucks of hay;
As aftimes I have fled from thee right fain,
And fawn on purpose, that I might be tane.
Nae mair around the Foggy-know I'll creep,
To watch and stare upon thee, while asleep.
But hear my vow--'twill help to give me ease;
May sudden death, or deadly sair disease,
And warst of ills attend my wretched life,
If ere to ane, but you, I be a wife.

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XVII.--_Tune_, Wae's my heart that we should sunder.

_Speak on,--speak thus, and still my grief,
Hold up a heart that's sinking under
These fears, that soon will want relief,
When_ Pate _must from his_ Peggy _sunder.
A gentler face, and silk attire,
A lady rich in beauty's blossom,
Alake poor me! will now conspire
To steal thee from thy_ Peggy's _bosom._

_No more the shepherd, who excell'd
The rest, whose wit made them to wonder,
Shall now his_ Peggy's _praises tell:
Ah! I can die, but never sunder.
Ye meadows where we often stray'd,
Ye banks where we were wont to wander,
Sweet-scented rucks, round which we play'd,
You'll lose your sweets when we're asunder._

_Again, ah! shall I never creep
Around the Know with silent duty,
Kindly to watch thee, while asleep,
And wonder at thy manly beauty?
Hear, Heaven, while solemnly I vow,
Tho' thou shouldst prove a wand'ring lover,
Thro' life to thee I shall prove true,
Nor be a wife to any other_

_Pat._ Sure Heaven approves--and be assur'd of me,
I'll ne'er gang back of what I've sworn to thee:
And time, tho' time maun interpose a while,
And I maun leave my Peggy and this isle;
Yet time, nor distance, nor the fairest face,
If there's a fairer, e'er shall fill thy place.
I'd hate my rising fortune, should it move
The fair foundation of our faithful love.
If at my foot were crowns and scepters laid,
To bribe my soul frae thee, delightful maid;
For thee I'd soon leave these inferior things
To sic as have the patience to be kings.
Wherefore that tear? Believe, and calm thy mind.

_Peg._ I greet for joy, to hear thy words sae kind.
When hopes were sunk, and nought but mirk despair
Made me think life was little worth my care,
My heart was like to burst; but now I see
Thy generous thoughts will save thy love for me.
With patience then I'll wait each wheeling year,
Hope time away, till thou with joy appear;
And all the while I'll study gentler charms,
To make me fitter for my traveller's arms:
I'll gain on uncle Glaud,--he's far frae fool,
And will not grudge to put me thro' ilk school;
Where I may manners learn----

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XVIII.--_Tune_, Tweedside.

_When hope was quite sunk in despair,
My heart it was going to break;
My life appear'd worthless my care,
But now I will save't for thy sake.
Where'er my love travels by day,
Wherever he lodges by night,
With me his dear image shall stay,
And my soul keep him ever in sight._

_With patience I'll wait the long year,
And study the gentlest charms;
Hope time away till thou appear,
To lock thee for ay in those arms.
Whilst thou was a shepherd, I priz'd
No higher degree in this life;
But now I'll endeavour to rise
To a height is becoming thy wife._

_For beauty that's only skin-deep,
Must fade like the gowans of May,
But inwardly rooted, will keep
For ever, without a decay.
Nor age, nor the changes of life,
Can quench the fair fire of love,
If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife,
And the husband have sense to approve._

_Pat._ ----That's wisely said,
And what he wares that way shall be well paid.
Tho' without a' the little helps of art,
Thy native sweets might gain a prince's heart:
Yet now, lest in our station, we offend,
We must learn modes, to innocence unkend;
Affect aftimes to like the thing we hate,
And drap serenity, to keep up state:
Laugh, when we're sad; speak, when we've nought to say;
And, for the fashion, when we're blyth, seem wae:
Pay compliments to them we aft have scorn'd;
Then scandalize them, when their backs are turn'd.

_Peg._ If this is gentry, I had rather be
What I am still;--But I'll be ought with thee.

_Pat._ No, no, my Peggy, I but only jest
With gentry's apes; for still amangst the best,
Good manners give integrity a bleez,
When native vertues join the arts to please.

_Peg._ Since with nae hazard, and sae small expence,
My lad frae books can gather siccan sense;
Then why, ah! why should the tempestuous sea,
Endanger thy dear life, and frighten me?
Sir William's cruel, that wad force his son,
For watna-whats, sae great a risk to run.

_Pat._ There is nae doubt, but travelling does improve,
Yet I would shun it for thy sake, my love.
But soon as I've shook aff my landwart cast,
In foreign cities, hame to thee I'll haste.

_Peg._ With every setting day, and rising morn,
I'll kneel to Heaven, and ask thy safe return.
Under that tree, and on the Suckler Brae,
Where aft we wont, when bairns, to run and play;
And to the Hissel-shaw where first ye vow'd
Ye wad be mine, and I as eithly trow'd,
I'll aften gang, and tell the trees and flowers,
With joy, that they'll bear witness I am yours.

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XIX.--_Tune_, Bush aboon Traquair.

_At setting day, and rising morn,
With soul that still shall love thee,
I'll ask of Heaven thy safe return,
With all that can improve thee.
I'll visit aft the Birken Bush,
Where first thou kindly told me
Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush,
Whilst round thou didst enfold me._

_To all our haunts I will repair,
By Greenwood-shaw or fountain;
Or where the summer-day I'd share
With thee upon yon mountain.
There will I tell the trees and flowers,
From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,
By vows you're mine, by love is yours
A heart which cannot wander._

_Pat._ My dear, allow me, frae thy temples fair,
A shining ringlet of thy flowing hair;
Which, as a sample of each lovely charm,
I'll aften kiss, and wear about my arm.

_Peg._ Were't in my power with better boons to please,
I'd give the best I could with the same ease;
Nor wad I, if thy luck had faln to me,
Been in ae jot less generous to thee.

_Pat._ I doubt it not; but since we've little time,
To ware't on words, wad border on a crime:
Love's safter meaning better is exprest,
When 'tis with kisses on the heart imprest. [_Exeunt._

End of the FOURTH ACT.

ACT FIFTH.

_SCENE I._

See how poor Bauldy stares like ane possest,
And roars up Symon frae his kindly rest.
Bare-leg'd, with night-cap, and unbutton'd coat,
See, the auld man comes forward to the sot.

SYMON _and_ BAULDY.

_Symon._

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

_Baul._ 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._

_Sym._ What ails thee, gowk!--to make sae loud ado?
You've wak'd Sir William, he has left his bed;
He comes, I fear ill pleas'd: I hear his tred.

_Enter_ SIR WILLIAM.

_Sir Will._ How goes the night? Does day-light yet appear?
Symon, you're very timeously asteer.

_Sym._ 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 wrestl'd with a ghaist. }

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

_Sir Will._ [_smiling._] I lang to hear't----

_Baul._ ----Ah! Sir, the witch ca'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 tristed, I met wi'er this night;
But may nae friend of mine get sic a fright!
For the curs'd hag, instead of doing me good,
(The very thought o't's like to freeze my blood!)
Rais'd up a ghaist or deil, 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,
And gat me down; while I, like a great fool,
Was laboured as I wont to be at school.
My heart out of its hool was like to lowp;
I pithless grew with fear, and had nae hope,
Till, with an elritch laugh, they vanish'd quite:
Sync I, haff dead with anger, fear and spite,
Crap up, and fled straight frae them, Sir, to you,
Hoping your help, to gi'e the deil 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 Will._ Well, Bauldy, whate'er's just shall granted be;
Let Mause be brought this morning down to me.

_Baul._ 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 deil.

[_Exit_ BAULDY.

_Sir Will._ 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 thro' want of education blind!

_Sym._ But does your Honour think there's nae sic thing
As witches raising deils up thro' a ring?
Syne playing tricks, a thousand I cou'd tell,
Cou'd never be contriv'd on this side hell.

_Sir Will._ Such as the devil's dancing in a moor,
Amongst a few old women craz'd and poor,
Who are 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,
Aftimes like Bawty, Badrans, or a Sow:
Then with his train thro' airy paths to glide,
While they on cats, or clowns, or broom-staffs ride;
Or in the 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 cup-board, chairs and stools.
Whate'er's in spells, or if there witches be,
Such whimsies seem the most absurd to me.

_Sym._ '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 land in naithing but a joke at last.

_Sir Will._ 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.--_Tune_, Bonny grey-ey'd morn.

_The bonny grey-ey'd morn begins to peep,
And darkness flies before the rising ray;
The hearty hind starts from his lazy sleep,
To follow healthful labours of the day:
Without a guilty sting to wrinkle his brow,
The lark and the linnet tend his levee,
And he joins their concert, driving his 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 due distance from parties and state;
Where neither ambition, nor avarice blind,
Reach him who has happiness link'd to his fate._

[_Exeunt._

_ACT V.--SCENE II._

While Peggy laces up her bosom fair,
With a blew snood Jenny binds up her hair;
Glaud, by his morning ingle takes a beek,
The rising sun shines motty thro' the reek,
A pipe his mouth; the lasses please his een,
And now and than his joke maun interveen.

GLAUD, JENNY _and_ PEGGY.

_Glaud._

I Wish, my bairns, it may keep fair till night;
Ye do not use sae 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 ye think that now when he's a laird,
That he poor landwart lasses will regard?

_Jen._ 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 chast and frugal life;
But now grown gentle, soon he will forsake
Sic godly thoughts, and brag of being a rake.

_Peg._ 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, ye 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 make ye a' their jest, when ye're debauched.
Be warry then, I say, and never gi'e
Encouragement, or bourd with sic as he.

_Peg._ Sir William's vertuous, 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 puft up with pride,
There's mony of them mocks ilk haly guide,
That shaws the gate to Heaven.--I've heard mysell,
Some of them laugh at doomsday, sin and hell.

_Jen._ 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.

_Peg._ The Lord forbid! Na, he kens better things:
But here comes aunt; her face some ferly brings.

_Enter_ MADGE.

_Mad._ Haste, haste ye; we're a' sent for o'er 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_ GLAUD.

_Mad._ 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 takes his horse,
To strute a gentle spark at Edinburgh cross;
To change his kent, cut frae the branchy plain,
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-swaird dance, when we gae milk,
To rustle amang the beauties clad in silk.
But Meg, poor Meg! maun with the shepherd stay,
And tak what God will send, in hodden-gray.

_Peg._ Dear aunt, what need 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.

_Mad._ A bonny story, trowth!--But we delay:
Prin up your aprons baith, and come away. [_Exeunt._

_ACT V.--SCENE III._

Sir William fills the twa-arm'd chair,
While Symon, Roger, Glaud and Mause,
Attend, and with loud laughter hear
Daft Bauldy bluntly plead his cause:
For now 'tis tell'd him that the taz
Was handled by revengefu' Madge,
Because he brak good breeding's laws,
And with his nonsense rais'd their rage.

SIR WILLIAM, PATIE, ROGER, SYMON, GLAUD, BAULDY _and_ MAUSE.

_Sir William._

And was that all?--Well, Bauldy, ye 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.

_Baul._ 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 kend not that they thought me sic before.

_Baul._ An't like your Honour, I believ'd it well;
But trowth I was e'en doilt to seek the deil:
Yet, with your Honour's leave, tho' she's nae Witch,
She's baith a slee and a revengefu'----
And that my _Some-place_ finds;--but I had best
Had in my tongue; for yonder comes the _Ghaist_,
And the young bonny _Witch_, whase rosy cheek
Sent me, without my wit, the deil to seek.

_Enter_ MADGE, PEGGY _and_ JENNY.

_Sir Will._ [_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 hald my peace.

_Sir Will._ This is a contradiction: What d'ye mean?
She is, and is not! Pray thee, 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 Will._ Speak soon; I'm all impatience!--

_Pat._ ----So am I!
For much I hope, and hardly yet know why.

_Glaud._ Then, since my master orders, I obey.
This Bonny Fundling, 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 cou'd 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: She has pass'd sincesyne
As a poor orphan, and a niece of mine.
Nor do I rue my care about the we'an,
For she's well worth the pains 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.--Nathing ken I mair,
Than what I to your Honour now declare.

_Sir Will._ This tale seems strange!----

_Pat._ ----The tale delights my ear:

_Sir Will._ Command your joys, young man, till truth appear.

_Mause._ That be my task.--Now, Sir, bid all be hush:
Peggy may smile;--thou hast nae cause to blush.
Long 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 friend that she can claim:
He saw't at first, and with quick eye did trace
His sister's beauty in her daughter's face.

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

_Pat._ 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 every thing looks like a reason want.

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

_Sir Will._ Mak haste, good woman, and resolve each doubt.

[_Mause goes forward, leading Peggy to Sir William._]

_Mause._ Sir, view me well: Has fifteen years so plow'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 Will._ 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?

[_Sir William 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.

_Pat._ Good nurse, go on; nae musick's haff sae fine,
Or can give pleasure like these words of thine.

_Mause._ Then, it was I that sav'd her infant-life,
Her death being threatned by an uncle's wife.
The story's lang; but I the secret knew,
How they pursu'd, with avaritious 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 travel'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 chearful swains;
Afraid of being found out, I to secure
My Charge, e'en 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 himsell, and Symon may
Remember well, how I that very day
Frae Roger's father took my little crove.

_Glaud._ [_with tears of joy happing down his beard._]
I well remember't. Lord reward your love:
Lang have I wish'd for this; for aft I thought,
Sic knowledge sometime should about be brought.

_Pat._ '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 would, tho' still unknown,
Have been my wife, when I my vows durst own.

_Sir Will._ 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.

[_Patie and Peggy embrace, and kneel to Sir William._]

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

_Sir Will._ [_raises them._] I give you both my blessing: may your
love
Produce a happy race, and still improve.

_Peg._ My wishes are compleat,--my joys arise, While I'm haff 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.

_Pat._ Be lang our guardian, still our Master be; }
We'll only crave what you shall please to gi'e: }
The estate be your's, 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 Will._ 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.

_Peg._ To me the views of wealth and an estate,
Seem light when put in ballance with my Pate:
For his sake only, I'll ay thankful bow
For such a kindness, _best of men_, to you.

_Sym._ What double blythness wakens up this day! I hope now, Sir, you'll no soon haste away. Sall I unsadle 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 taz, and pawky Mause's plot.

_Sir Will._ 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 bussy gardners shall new planting rear:
My father's hearty table you soon shall see
Restor'd, and my best friends rejoice with me.

_Sym._ 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.

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

_Baul._ I'm friends with Mause,--with very Madge I'm 'greed,
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."

_Mad._ Lang may he live:--And, Bauldy, 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 witches' fingers ban. This day I'll wi' the youngest of ye rant, And brag for ay, that I was ca'd the aunt Of our young lady,--my dear bonny bairn!

_Peg._ 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 pleasures of this happy day
Does fully all I can require repay.

_Sir Will._ 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 Roger to Sir William._] Sir, here's my trusty friend, that always shar'd My bosom-secrets, ere I was a laird; Glaud's daughter Janet (Jenny, thinkna shame) Rais'd, and maintains in him a lover's flame: Lang was he dumb, at last he spake, 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 Will._ 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 gray head Shall nod with quietness down amang the dead.

_Rog._ I ne'er was good a 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 Will._ My friends, I'm satisfied you'll all behave, Each in his station, as I'd wish or crave. Be ever vertuous, soon or late you'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 dispells our care. } Now all's at rights, who sings best let me hear. }

_Peg._ When you demand, I readiest should obey:
I'll sing you ane, the newest that I ha'e.

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 tawking._

_Last night I met him on a bawk,
Where yellow corn was growing,
There mony a kindly word he spake,
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 since syne,
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 chastly should be granting.
Then I'll comply, and marry_ Pate,
_And syne my cockernonny
He's free to touzel air or late,
Where corn-riggs are bonny._

[_Exeunt omnes._

NOTES.

Page 5, line 11 from top; the reading in the text is:--

"She fled as frae a shellycoat or kow."

This is the reading in the 8vo and 4to editions of 1721; (and also
in the 12mo edition of 1761;) where was published the _first
scene_ of the Pastoral, as a separate poem, under the title of
"Patie and Roger." But, in all the editions of the _Gentle
Shepherd_ that we have seen, the reading stands thus:--

"She fled as frae a shellycoated kow."

We think the first reading is the true one; and that the second
is, probably, a typographical error. We have come to this
conclusion after an inquiry into the meaning of the words
"Shellycoat" and "Kow." The definitions of these words, from the
best authorities we know of, are subjoined; which will enable such
of our readers as have any curiosity in the matter to judge for
themselves.

"_Shellycoat_, a spirit, who resides in the waters, and has given
his name to many a rock and stone upon the Scottish coast, belongs
also to the class of bogles. When he appeared, he seemed to be
decked with marine productions, and in particular with _shells_,
whose clattering announced his approach. From this circumstance he
derived his name.--_Shellycoat_ must not be confounded with
_Kelpy_, a water spirit also, but of a much more powerful and
malignant nature."

[_Scott's Minstrelsy_, vol. i., Introd. civ. cv.

"_Shellycoat._ One of those frightful spectres the ignorant people
are terrified at, and tell us strange stories of; that they are
clothed with a coat of shells, which make a horrid rattling; that
they'll be sure to destroy one, if he gets not a running water
between him and it: it dares not meddle with a woman with child,
&c."

[_Ramsay's Poems._ vol. i., 4to edition, 1721.

"_Kow_ or _Cow_" a hobgoblin; also, a scarecrow, a bugbear.
_Cow-man_, the devil."

[_Jamieson's Scottish Dictionary._

"_Wirrikow_," the devil.

[_Hogg's Mountain Bard._

The above definitions of _Shellycoat._are very precise: that of
_Kow_ is less so. Both are spirits, and frightful in character; yet
apparently of distinct habits. Hence the _first_ of the readings
given above,--the oldest and that adopted in the text--

"She fled as frae a shellycoat or kow,"

is quite natural and proper: the _second_ (though susceptible of
explanation,) seems much less so.

* * * * *

At page 57, a variation from the text given in the present edition, is found in nearly all the more modern editions: it is as follows:--

"_Enter_ BAULDY [_singing_].

SANG XVI.

Jocky _said to_ Jenny, Jenny, _wilt thou do't?
Ne'er a fit, quoth_ Jenny, _for my tocher-good;
For my tocher-good, I winna marry thee:
E'en's-ye-like, quoth,_ Jocky, _I can let you be._

_Mause,_[59] Well liltit, Bauldy, that's a dainty sang.

[Footnote 59: In some editions, _Madge_.]

_Bauldy,_ I'se gie ye't a', it's better than it's lang.

_I have gowd and gear, I have land eneugh,
I have sax good owsen ganging in a pleugh;
Ganging in a pleugh, and linkan o'er the lee,
And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be._

_I have a good ha' house, a barn, and a byre;
A peat-stack 'fore the door, will mak a ranting fire;
I'll mak a ranting fire, and merry shall we be,
And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be._

Jenny _said to_ Jocky, _gin ye winna tell,
Ye shall be the lad, I'll be the lass mysell;
Ye're a bonny lad, and I'm a lassie free;
Y'ere welcomer to tak me than to let me be._"

* * * * *

In "Ramsay's Poems," published in London, by Millar, Rivington &
Co., 2 vols. 12mo, 1761; (three years after the author's death;)
there occur several variations from the text of the present
edition. As the more important of these changes, with one
exception, have been adopted in the edition edited by George
Chalmers, published by Cadell & Co., London, 2 vols. 8vo, 1800;
(usually considered the "best edition" of Ramsay's collected
works;) and as they have been again adopted in the recent reprint
of Cadell's edition by Fullarton & Co., London, 3 vols. 12mo,
1850, it has been thought best to present them here in the form of
notes. The following, therefore, are to be understood as the
readings in the editions just referred to:--

Page 5, line 13 from bottom:--

"'Till he yowl'd sair she strak the poor dumb tyke:"

This is the reading in the 8vo and 4to editions of 1721, before
referred to. In the 4to subscription edition of 1728, the author
rejected the above reading, and substituted that given in the
text. This would seem to be conclusive; and produces a
considerable degree of suspicion as to the authority for the other
alterations which we find in the editions of 1761 and 1800.

Page 11, line 4 from bottom:--

"We soon will hear what a poor feightan life"

[_Edition of_ 1800.

The editions of 1761 and 1850 give the reading in the text.

Page 19, line 8 from top:--

"To shine, or set in glory with Montrose."

Page 25, line 8 from bottom:--

"_Bauldy._ Well vers'd in herbs and seasons of the moon,
By skilfu' charms 'tis kend what ye have done."

[_Edition of_ 1761.

The editions of 1800 and 1850 give the reading in the text.

Page 27:--

MAUSE _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 knows't but me;--and if the morn were come,
I'll tell them tales will gar them all sing dumb."

Page 29, line 7 from top:--

"I darna stay,--ye joker, let me gang,
Or swear ye'll never tempt to do me wrang."

Page 29, line 15 from top:--

"Shall do thee wrang, I swear by all aboon."

Page 36, line 4 from top:--

"No _Jaccacinths_ or _Eglantines_ appear.
Here fail'd and broke's the rising ample shade,
Where _peach_ and _nect'rine_ trees their branches spread,
Basking in rays, and early did produce
Fruit fair to view, delightful in the use;
All round in gaps, the walls in ruin lie,
And from what stands the wither'd branches fly."

Page 47, line 10 from bottom:--

"With equal joy my safter heart does yield,
To own thy well-try'd love has won the field."

Page 62, top line:--

"But love rebels against all bounding laws;
Fixt in my soul the shepherdess excells,"

Page 63, line 15 from bottom:--

"Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, sparkling wine,
Rich fare, and witty friends, whene'er ye dine,
Submissive servants, honour, wealth and ease,"

Page 64, line 14 from bottom:--

"_Roger._ And proud of being your secretary, I
To wyle it frae me a' the deels defy."

Page 67, line 10 from bottom:--

"Dream thro' that night, 'till my day-star appear;"

Page 70, line 5 from bottom:--

"_Peggy._ Were ilka hair that appertains to me
Worth an estate, they all belong to thee:
My sheers are ready, take what you demand,
And aught what love with virtue may command.
_Patie._ Nae mair I'll ask; but since we've little time,"

Page 72, line 9 from top:--

"What want ye, Bauldy, at this [early silent] hour,
When nature nods beneath the drowsy pow'r:"

Page 73, line 8 from bottom:--

"Lows'd down my breeks, while I like a great fool,"

[_Not in edition of 1850._

Page 82, line 12 from bottom:--

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

Besides the above, there occur, in the edition of 1761, about 50
_verbal_ alterations, additions, and omissions; and about 75 in
the edition of 1800. In the edition of 1850 there are fewer
changes, it having been partially corrected, probably from the 8vo
edition of 1808. These verbal changes are rarely, if ever,
improvements; frequently of little consequence, and sometimes they
appear silly; for instance, towards the end of the Pastoral there
is substituted, in two or three instances, Archbald instead of
Bauldy! We have not, therefore, thought it worth while to note
them here. We rather think that our readers, generally, will not
consider the readings above given, as improvements on those in the
text.

A

GLOSSARY;

OR,

AN EXPLANATION OF THE SCOTTISH WORDS

WHICH ARE USED IN

_ALLAN RAMSAY'S "GENTLE SHEPHERD;"_

AND WHICH ARE RARELY FOUND IN MODERN ENGLISH WRITINGS:

WITH ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.

* * * * *

A.

_A'_, all.
_Abeit_, albeit, although.
_Ablins_, perhaps.
_Aboon_, above.
_Ae_, or _ane_, one.
_Aff_, off.
_Aften_, often.
_Ain_, or _awn_, own.
_Air_, long since, early.
_Air up_, soon up in the morning.
_Airth_, quarter of the heaven.
_Alane_, alone.
_Amaist_, almost.
_Amang_, among.
_Aneath_, beneath.
_Anes_, once.
_Anither_, another.
_Asteer_, stirring.
_Atanes_, at once, at the same time.
_Attour_, out-over.
_Auld_, old.
_Awa_, away.
_A-will_, voluntarily.
_Awner_, owner.

B.