Whyles, on the strong-wing'd tempest flyin,

Tirlin' the kirks;

Whyles, in the human bosom pryin,

Unseen thou lurks.

I've heard my rev'rend grannie say,
In lanely glens ye like to stray;
Or where auld ruin'd castles grey

Nod to the moon,

Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way,

To

Wi' eldritch 2 croon.

When twilight did my grannie summon,
say her pray'rs, douce, honest woman!
Aft 'yont the dyke she's heard you bummin,
Wi' eerie drone;

3

Or, rustlin, thro' the boortrees 3 comin,

Wi' heavy groan.

Ae dreary, windy, winter night,

The stars shot down wi' sklentin1 light,
Wi' you mysel, I gat a fright,

6

Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight,
Wi' wavin sough.

7

The cudgel in my nieve did shake,
Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake,
When wi' an eldritch, stoors "quaick, quaick,"
Amang the springs,

Awa ye squatter'd like a drake,

On whistlin wings.

2 hideous.

4

slanting.

6 bush of rushes.
8 hollow-sounding.

Vorm

Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags,
Tell how wi' you, on ragweed nags,
They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags,

Wi' wicked speed;

And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,

Owre howket1 dead.

Thence, countra wives, wi' toil an' pain,
May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain;
For oh! the yellow treasure's ta'en

By witchin skill;

An' dawtet, twal-pint hawkie's' gane

As yell's the bill.*

Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse
On young guidmen, fond, keen an' croose;
When the best wark-lume i' the house,

5

By cantraip wit,

Is instant made no worth a louse,

Just at the bit.

When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
An' float the jinglin icy boord,

Then, water-kelpies haunt the foord,

By your direction,

And 'nighted trav'llers are allur'd

To their destruction.

And aft your moss-traversin" Spunkies"
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is:
The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkies
Delude his eyes,

Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne'er mair to rise.

When masons' mystic word an' grip
In storms an' tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,
Or, strange to tell!

The youngest "brother" ye wad whip
Aff straught to hell.

Lang' syne in Eden's bonie yard,
When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd,
An' all the soul of love they shar'd,

The raptur'd hour—

Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird,

In shady bow'r ;

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing 2 dog!
Ye cam to Paradise incog,

An' play'd on, man a cursed brogue,3

(Black be your fa'!)

An' gied the infant warld a shog,*

'Maist ruin'd a'.

This verse originally read thus :

"Lang syne, in Eden's happy scene
When strappin Adam's days were green,
And Eve was like my bonie Jean-
My dearest part,

A dancin, sweet, young handsome quean,
Wi' guileless heart.

In a letter to John Richmond, of February 17th, 1786, Burns speaks of something disagreeable having happened with respect to himself, an occurrence which afterwards led to a rupture between Jean Armour and him, and occasioned the substitution of the verse in the text for the one first given when he prepared the poem for the press.

2 Who draws the bolt stealthily; or the reference may be to the cheat who scrapes away from the horns of cattle the marks of their age. 4 shock.

3 trick.

2

D'ye mind that day when in a bizz1
Wi' reeket duds, an' reestet gizz,3
Ye did present your smootie phiz

'Mang better folk, An' sklented on the man of Uzz

4

Your spitefu' joke?

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall,
An' brak him out o' house an' hal',
While scabs an' botches did him gall,

Wi' bitter claw;

An' lows'd his ill-tongu'd wicked scaull

Was warst ava?

But a' your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce,
Sin' that day Michael did you pierce,
Down to this time,

6

Wad ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse,

In prose or rhyme.

5

An' now, auld "Cloots," I ken ye're thinkin, A certain bardie's rantin, drinkin,

Some luckless hour will send him linkin,

To your black pit;

But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin,

An' cheat you yet.

But fare you weel, auld "Nickie-ben!"
O wad ye tak a thought an' men'!
Ye aiblins' might—I dinna ken-

Still hae a stake:

I'm wae to think upo' yon den,

shrivelled periwig.

Ev'n for your sake!

2 smoked rags.

4 aimed.

1 ferment.

5

scolding wife.

• Vide Milton, Book vi.-R. B.

SCOTCH DRINK.'

Gie him strong drink until he wink,
That's sinking in despair;
An' liquor guid to fire his bluid,
That's prest wi' grief and care:
There let him bowse, an' deep carouse,
Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,

Till he forgets his loves or debts,

An' minds his griefs no more.

SOLOMON'S PROVERBS, XXXi. 6, 7.

LET other poets raise a fracas

'Bout vines, and wines, an' drucken Bacchus, An' crabbet names an' stories wrack us,

An' grate our lug :

I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
In glass or jug.

O thou, my Muse! guid auld Scotch drink!
Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink,3

'It appears from Burns's letter to John Richmond, dated Mossgiel, February 17th, 1786, that this poem was written about that time. On the 20th of the following month he said to Robert Muir, "I here enclose you my Scotch Drink.' I hope, some time before we hear the gowk, to have the pleasure of seeing you at Kilmarnock, when I intend we shall have a gill between us in a mutchkin stoup." Fergusson wrote a poem on "Caller Water," which Burns had in his mind in composing this poem. Gilbert Burns says: Notwithstanding the praise he has bestowed on Scotch Drink-which seems to have misled his historians-I do not recollect during these seven years [the Tarbolton period] nor till towards the end of his commencing author-when his growing celebrity occasioned his being often in company-to have ever seen him intoxicated, nor was he at all given to drinking. barley. meander.

2

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