Читать книгу English Narrative Poems - Группа авторов - Страница 9

"Of brownyis and of bogilis full is this buke."

Gawin Douglas.

A Tale

When chapman billies[14] leave the street, And drouty[15] neebors, neebors meet, As market-days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate[16]; While we sit bousing at the nappy,[17]5 And gettin' fou[18] and unco[19] happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles. The mosses, waters, slaps[20] and styles, That lie between us and our hame, Where sits our sulky sullen dame,10 Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, As he frae[21] Ayr[22] ae night did canter, (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses15 For honest men and bonny lasses.)

O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise, As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum,[23] A blethering,[24] blustering, drunken blellum[25];20 That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou wasna sober; That ilka[26] melder,[27] wi' the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; That every naig was ca'd[28] a shoe on,25 The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon,[29]30 Or catched wi' warlocks[30] in the mirk,[31] By Alloway's[32] auld haunted kirk.[33]

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,[34] To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthened sage advices,35 The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale:—Ae market-night, Tam had got planted[35] unco right, Fast by an ingle,[36] bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats,[37] that drank divinely;40 And at his elbow, Souter[38] Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither— They had been fou for weeks thegither! The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter,45 And aye the ale was growing better; The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favors secret, sweet, and precious; The souter tauld his queerest stories, The landlord's laugh was ready chorus;50 The storm without might rair and rustle— Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drowned himself amang the nappy! As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,55 The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure: Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

But pleasures are like poppies spread,— You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;60 Or like the snowfall in the river,— A moment white—then melts forever; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form,65 Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun[39] ride: That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;70 And sic a night he taks the road in As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling showers rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed;75 Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed: That night, a child might understand, The Deil[40] had business on his hand.

Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, (A better never lifted leg,)80 Tam skelpit[41] on through dub[42] and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glowering round wi' prudent cares,85 Lest bogles[43] catch him unawares:— Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Where ghaists and houlets[44] nightly cry.

By this time he was cross the ford, Where in the snaw the chapman smoored[45];90 And past the birks[46] and meikle stane,[47] Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane; And through the whins,[48] and by the cairn,[49] Where hunters fand the murdered bairn[50]; And near the thorn, aboon the well,95 Where Mungo's mither hanged hersel'. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars through the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll;100 When, glimmering through the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze[51]; Through ilka bore[52] the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn,[53]105 What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquebae,[54] we'll face the devil!— The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle, Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle.[55]110 But Maggie stood right sair astonished, Till, by the heel and hand admonished, She ventured forward on the light; And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance;115 Nae cotillion brent[56] new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys,[57] and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker[58] in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;120 A towzie tyke,[59] black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge; He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl,[60] Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.[61] Coffins stood round, like open presses,125 That shawed the dead in their last dresses; And by some devilish cantrip slight[62] Each in its cauld hand held a light: By which heroic Tam was able To note upon the haly table,130 A murderer's banes in gibbet airns; Twa span-lang, wee unchristened bairns; A thief, new-cutted frae the rape, Wi' his last gasp his gab[63] did gape; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted;135 Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted; A garter which a babe had strangled; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o' life bereft,— The gray hairs yet stack to the heft:140 Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', Which even to name wad be unlawfu'!

As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; The piper loud and louder blew;145 The dancers quick and quicker flew; They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleekit,[64] Till ilka carlin[65] swat and reekit, And coost her duddies[66] to the wark, And linket[67] at it in her sark[68]!150

Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans,[69] A' plump and strappin' in their teens; Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,[70] Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen[71]! Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,155 That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies,[72] For ae blink o' the bonny burdies[73]! But withered beldams,[74] auld and droll Rigwooddie[75] hags wad spean[76] a foal,160 Louping and flinging on a cummock,[77] I wonder didna turn thy stomach.

But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie[78]; There was ae winsome wench and walie,[79] That night enlisted in the core,[80]165 (Lang after kenned on Carrick shore; For monie a beast to dead she shot, And perished monie a bonny boat, And shook baith meikle corn and bear,[81] And kept the country-side in fear.)170 Her cutty-sark,[82] o' Paisley harn,[83] That while a lassie she had won, In longitude though sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie.[84] Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie175 That sark she coft[85] for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches), Wad ever graced a dance o' witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun cour; Sic flights are far beyond her power;—180 To sing how Nannie lap and flang[86] (A souple jade she was, and strang), And how Tam stood like ane bewitched, And thought his very e'en[87] enriched: Even Satan glow'red and fidged fu' fain,[88]185 And hotched[89] and blew wi' might and main: Till first ae caper, syne[90] anither, Tam tint[91] his reason a' thegither, And roars out: "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" And in an instant all was dark:190 And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,[92] When plundering herds assail their byke[93]; As open poussie's mortal foes,195 When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' monie an eldritch[94] screech and hollow.200

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get they fairin'[95]! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'; Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,205 And win the keystane o' the brig; There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running-stream they darena cross[96]! But ere the keystane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake!210 For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest, And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle,[97]— But little wist she Maggie's mettle! Ae spring brought off her master hale,215 But left behind her ain gray tail: The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk man and mother's son, take heed!220 Whene'er to drink you are inclined, Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear,— Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.