An' hunger'd maukin taen her way To kail-yards green, While faithless snaws ilk step betray Whare she has been. * Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a degressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. 2. of M'Pherson's Translation. E The Thresher's weary flingin-tree The lee-lang day had tired me; And whan the Day had clos'd his e'e, Far i' the West, Ben i' the Spence, right pensivelie, I gaed to rest. There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, I sat and ey'd the spewing reek, That fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek, The auld, clay biggin; An' heard the restless rattons squeak About the riggin. All in this mottie, misty clime, An' done nae-thing, But stringin blethers up in rhyme, For fools to sing. Had I to guid advice but harkit, I might, by this, hae led a market, Or strutted in a Bank an' clarkit My cash-account; While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit, I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof! Or some rash aith, That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof Till my last breath When click! the string the snick did draw : And jee! the door gaed to the wa'; And by my ingle-lowe I saw, Now bleezin bright, Come full in sight. A tight, outlandish Hizzie, braw, Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht; The infant aith, half form'd, was crusht; I glowr'd as eerie 's I'd been dusht In some wild glen; When sweet, like modest Worth, she blusht, And stepped ben. Green, slender, leaf-clad Holly-boughs, Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows, |