Lang syne, in Eden's bonie yard,
When youthfu' lovers first were paired,
An' all the soul of love they shared,
The raptured hour,

Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry swaird,
In shady bow'r :

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawin' dog!
Ye came to Paradise incog,

An' played on man a cursed brogue',
(Black be your fa'3!)

An' gied the infant warld a shog',
'Maist ruined a'.

D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz3,
Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz',
Ye did present your smoutie phiz
'Mang better folk,

An' sklented 9 on the man of Uzz
Your spitefu' joke?

8

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

An' lowsed 10 his ill-tongued wicked scaul ",
Was warst ava 12?

But a' your doings to rehearse,

Your wily snares and fechtin 13 fierce,
Sin' that day Michael" did you pierce,
Down to this time,

Wad ding 16 a' Lallan 16 tongue, or Erse,
In prose or rhyme.

'Who draws stealthily the door-bolt.

5 bustle.

6 smoky rags.

7 singed periwig.

8 blackened face. ⚫ slanted.

fighting.

10 loosed. 11 scold. 12 of all.

14 Vide Milton, Book vi.-R. B. 18 exhaust. 16 Lowland.

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,

Ev'n for your sake!

I tripping.

FROM 'THE HOLY FAIR.'

Now, butt an' ben, the change-house fills,

Wi' yill-caup commentators:

Here's crying out for bakes' an' gills,

An' there the pint-stowp clatters ;
While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang,
Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture,

They raise a din, that, in the end,

Is like to breed a rupture

O' wrath that day.

Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair
Than either school or college:

ale-cup. 10 small beer.

It kindles wit, it waukens lear3,
It pangs us fou o' knowledge.
Be 't whisky gill, or penny wheep 10,
Or ony stronger potion,

It never fails, on drinking deep,
To kittle 11 up our notion

⚫ stir.

The lads an' lasses, blythely bent
To mind baith saul an' body,
Sit round the table, weel content,
An' steer1 about the toddy.

On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk,
They're makin observations;

While some are cozie i' the neuk 2,

An' formin assignations

To meet some day.

But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts3,
Till a' the hills are rairin,

An' echoes back return the shouts ;
Black Russel is na spairin:

His piercing words, like Highlan swords,
Divide the joints an' marrow;

His talk o' Hell, whare devils dwell,

A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit,
Fill'd fu' o' lowin brunstane,
Wha's raging flame, an' scorching heat,
Wad melt the hardest whun-stane'!

The half asleep start up wi' fear,
An' think they hear it roarin,
When presently it does appear,
'Twas but some neibor snorin
Asleep that day.

'Twad be owre lang a tale, to tell
How mony stories past,

An' how they crowded to the yill3,

When they were a' dismist:

How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups',

Amang the furms and benches;

An' cheese an' bread frae women's laps,
Was dealt about in lunches 10

nook.

'Shakspeare's Hamlet.-R. B.

⚫ wooden vessels.

I jolly.

6

In comes a gaucie' gash Guidwife,
An' sits down by the fire,

Syne draws her kebbuck2 an' her knife,
The lasses they are shyer.

The auld guidmen, about the grace,

Frae side to side they bother,

Till some ane by his bonnet lays,
An' gi'es them 't like a tether,
Fu' lang that day.

Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass,
Or lasses that hae naething!
Sma' need has he to say a grace,
Or melvie his braw claithing!
O wives be mindfu', ance yoursel
How bonie lads ye wanted,
An' dinna for a kebbuck-heel,
Let lasses be affronted

On sic a day!

Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattling tow,
Begins to jow an' croon;

Some swagger hame, the best they dow',
Some wait the afternoon.

8

At slaps the billies halt a blink,

Till lasses strip their shoon :

Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink,

They're a' in famous tune

For crack 10 that day.

I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho' it should serve nae ither end

Than just a kind memento;

2 cheese.

to peal or roar.

10 talk.

11 Andrew Aiken.

But how the subject-theme may gang,
Let time and chance determine ;
Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,
And Andrew dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad,
And muckle they may grieve ye :
For care and trouble set your thought,
Ev'n when your end's attained;
And a' your views may come to nought,
Where ev'ry nerve is strained.

I'll no say, men are villains a';
The real, hardened wicked,
Wha hae nae check but human law,
Are to a few restricket;

But, och mankind are unco weak,
An' little to be trusted;

If self the wavering balance shake,
It's rarely right adjusted!

Yet they wha fa" in fortune's strife,
Their fate we shouldna censure,
For still the important end of life
They equally may answer;
A man may hae an honest heart,
Tho' poortith 2 hourly stare him;
A man may tak a neibor's part,

Yet hae nae cash to spare him.

Aye free, aff-han' your story tell,
When wi a bosom crony;
But still keep something to yoursel
Ye scarcely tell to ony.

(Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can
Frae critical dissection;