Читать книгу The Life of Mansie Wauch tailor in Dalkeith - D. M. Moir - Страница 4

Table of Contents

Preliminaries

I. Our Old Grandfather,

II. My Own Father,

The weaver he gied up the stair,

Dancing and singing;

A bunch o’ bobbins at his back,

Rattling and ringing.

Old Song.

III. Coming Into The World,

—At first the babe

Was sickly; and a smile was seen to pass

Across the midwife’s cheek, when, holding up

The feeble wretch, she to the father said,

“A fine man-child!” What else could they expect?

The father being, as I said before,

A weaver.

Hogg’s Poetic Mirror.

IV. Calf-Love,

Bonny lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go,

Bonny lassie, will ye go to the Birks of Aberfeldy?

Burns.

For a tailor is a man, a man, a man,

And a tailor is a man.

Popular Heroic Song.

V. Cursecowl,

From his red poll a redder cowl hung down;

His jacket, if through grease we guess, was brown;

A vigorous scamp, some forty summers old;

Rough Shetland stockings up his thighs were roll’d;

While at his side horn-handled steels and knives

Gleam’d from his pouch, and thirsted for sheep’s lives.

Odoherty’s Miscellanea Classica.

VI. Pushing my Fortune,

Oh, love, love, lassie,

Love is like a dizziness,

It winna let a puir bodie

Gang about their business.

James Hogg.

VII. The Forewarning,

I had a dream which was not all a dream.

Byron.

Coming events cast their shadows before.

Campbell.

VIII. Letting Lodgings,

Then first he ate the white puddings,

And syne he ate the black, O;

Though muckle thought the Gudewife to hersell,

Yet ne’er a word she spak, O.

But up then started our Gudeman,

And an angry man was he, O.

Old Song.

IX. Benjie’s Christening,

We’ll hap and row, hap and row,

We’ll hap and row the feetie o’t.

It is a wee bit weary thing,

I dinnie bide the greetie o’t.

Provost Creech.

An honest man, close button’d to the chin,

Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within.

Cowper.

This great globe and all that it inherits shall dissolve,

And, like the baseless fabric of a vision,

Leave not a rack behind.

Shakespeare.

X. The Resurrection Men,

How then was the Devil drest!

He was in his Sunday’s best;

His coat was red, and his breeches were blue,

With a hole behind where his tail came thro’.

Over the hill, and over the dale,

And he went over the plain:

And backward and forward he switch’d his tail,

As a gentleman switches his cane.

Coleridge.

XI. Taffy with the Pigtail,

Song,

Song of the South,

School Recollections,

Elegiac Stanzas,

Dirge,

In the sweet shire of Cardigan,

Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,

An old man dwells, a little man;

I’ve heard he once was tall.

A long blue livery-coat has he,

That’s fair behind and fair before;

Yet, meet him where you will, you see

At once that he is poor.

Wordsworth.

XII. Volunteering,

Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing,

Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;

Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing,

Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow:

Many a banner spread

Flutters above your head,

Many a crest that is famous in story;

Mount and make ready then,

Sons of the mountain glen,

Fight for the King, and our old Scottish glory.

Sir Walter Scott’s Monastery.

XIII. The Chincough Pilgrimage,

Man hath a weary pilgrimage

As through the world he wends:

On every stage from youth to age

Still discontent attends.

With heaviness he casts his eye

Upon the road before,

And still remembers with a sigh

The days that are no more.

Southey.

XIV. My Lord’s Races,

Aff they a’ went galloping, galloping;

Legs and arms a’ walloping, walloping;

De’il take the hindmost, quo’ Duncan M’Calapin,

The Laird of Tillyben, Joe.

Old Song.

He went a little further,

And turn’d his head aside,

And just by Goodman Whitfield’s gate,

Oh there the mare he spied.

He ask’d her how she did,

She stared him in the face,

Then down she laid her head again—

She was in wretched case.

Old Poulter’s Mo.

XV. The Return,

That sweet home is there delight,

And thither they repair

Communion with their own to hold!

Peaceful as, at the fall of night,

Two little lambkins gliding white

Return unto the gentle air,

That sleeps within the fold.

Or like two birds to their lonely nest,

Or wearied waves to their bay of rest,

Or fleecy clouds when their race is run,

That hang in their own beauty blest,

’Mid the calm that sanctifies the west

Around the setting sun.

Wilson.

XVI. The Bloody Cartridge,

So stands the Thracian herdsman with his spear

Full in the gap, and hopes the hunted bear;

And hears him in the rustling wood, and sees

His course at distance by the bending trees;

And thinks—Here comes my mortal enemy,

And either he must fall in fight or I.

Dryden’s Palamon and Arcite.

Nay, never shake thy gory looks at me;

Thou canst not say I did it!

Macbeth.

XVII. My First and Last Play,

Pla. I’ faith I like the audience that frequenteth there With much applause: a man shall not be chokt With the stench of garlick, nor be pasted firm With the barmy jacket of a beer-brewer.

Bra. ’Tis a good gentle audience, and I hope The boys will come one day in great request.

Jack Drum’s Entertainment, 1601.

Out cam the gudeman, and laigh he louted;

Out cam the gudewife, and heigh she shouted;

And a the toun-neibours gather’d about it;

And there he lay, I trow.

The Cauldrife Wooer.

XVIII. The Barley Fever: and Rebuke,

Sages their solemn een may steek,

And raise a philosophic reek,

And, physically, causes seek,

In clime and season:

But tell me Whisky’s name in Greek, I’ll tell the reason.

Burns.

XIX. The Awful Night,

Ha!—’twas but a dream;

But then so terrible, it shakes my soul!

Cold drops of sweat hang on my trembling flesh;

My blood grows chilly, and I freeze with horror,

Richard the Third.

The Fire-king one day rather amorous felt;

He mounted his hot copper filly;

His breeches and boots were of tin, and the belt

Was made of cast-iron, for fear it should melt

With the heat of the copper colt’s belly.

Oh! then there was glitter and fire in each eye,

For two living coals were the symbols;

His teeth were calcined, and his tongue was so dry,

It rattled against them as though you should try

To play the piano on thimbles.

Rejected Addresses.

XX. Adventures in the Sporting Line,

A fig for them by law protected,

Liberty’s glorious feast;

Courts for cowards were erected,

Churches built to please the priest.

Jolly Beggars.

Wi’ cauk and keel I’ll win your bread,

And spindles and whorles for them wha need,

Whilk is a gentle trade indeed,

To carry the Gaberlunzie on.

I’ll bow my leg and crook my knee,

And draw a black clout owre my ee,

A cripple or blind they will ca’ me,

While we shall be merry and sing.

King James V.

XXI. Anent Mungo Glen,

“Earth to earth,” and “dust to dust,”

The solemn priest hath said,

So we lay the turf above thee now,

And we seal thy narrow bed;

But thy spirit, brother, soars away

Among the faithful blest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

Milman.

XXII. The June Jaunt,

The lapwing lilteth o’er the lea,

With nimble wing she sporteth;

By vows she’ll flee from tree to tree

Where Philomel resorteth:

By break of day, the lark can say,

I’ll bid you a good-morrow,

I’ll streik my wing, and mounting sing,

O’er Leader hauchs and Yarrow.

Nicol Burn, the Minstrel.

XXIII. Catching a Tartar,

Fr. Sol. O, prennez miséricorde! ayez pitié de moy!

Pist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys! For I will fetch my rim out at thy throat, In drops of crimson blood.

Henry V.

XXIV. James Batter and the Maid of Damascus,

He chose a mournful muse

Soft pity to infuse;

He sung the Weaver wise and good,

By too severe a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

Fallen from his high estate,

And weltering in his blood.

Dryden Revised.

All close they met, all eves, before the dusk

Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil,

Close in a bower of hyacinth and musk,

Unknown of any, free from whispering tale.

Keats.

XXV. A Philistine in the Coal-Hole,

They steeked doors, they steeked yetts,

Close to the cheek and chin;

They steeked them a’ but a wee wicket,

And Lammikin crapt in.

Ballad of the Lammikin.

Hame cam our gudeman at een,

And hame cam he;

And there he spied a man

Where a man shouldna be.

Hoo cam this man kimmer,

And who can it be;

Hoo cam this carle here,

Without the leave o’ me?

Old Song.

XXVI. Benjie on the Carpet,

It’s no in titles, nor in rank—

It’s no in wealth, like Lon’on bank,

To purchase peace and rest;

It’s no in making muckle mair— It’s no in books—it’s no in lear, To make us truly blest.

Burns.

XXVII. “Puggie, Puggie,”

Saw ye Johnie coming? quo’ she,

Saw ye Johnie coming?

Wi’ his blue bonnet on his head,

And his doggie running?

Old Ballad.

XXVIII. Serious Musings,

My eyes are dim with childish tears,

My heart is idly stirr’d,

For the same sound is in mine ears,

Which in those days I heard.

Thus fares it still in our decay;

And yet the wiser mind

Mourns less for what age takes away,

Than what it leaves behind.

Wordsworth.

XXIX. Conclusion,

He prayeth well, who loveth well

Both man, and bird, and beast—

He prayeth best, who loveth best

All things both great and small;

For the dear God who loveth us,

He made and loveth all.

Coleridge.