Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley harn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude tho sorely scanty,

It was her best, and she was vauntie.
Ah! little kenn'd thy rev'rend grannie,
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches,)
Wad ever grac'd a dance o' witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun cow'r; Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; To sing how Nannie lap and flang, (A souple jad she was and strang ;) And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd, And thought his very een enrich'd; Ev'n Satan glow'r'd, and fidg'd fu' fain, And hotch'd, and blew wi' might and main; Till first ae caper, syne anither,

Tam tint his reason a' thegither,

And roars out, " Weel-done, Cutty-sark!

And in an instant a' was dark!

And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion sallied.

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,
When plund'ring herds assail their byke;
As open pussie's mortal foes,

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 screech and hollow!

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin' In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin!

In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'!
Kate soon will be a wofu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane o' the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may toss, -
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle,
But little wist she Maggie's mettle; -
Ae spring brought aff her master hale,
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:
Whene'er to drink you are inclin❜d,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,
Remember Tam O'Shanter's mare.

* It is a well known fact, that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with Bogles, whatever danger may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turi ng back.

t

[The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough under. stood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manner and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added, to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such should honor the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.]

HALLOWEEN.*

Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
The simple pleasures of the lowly train;
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm than all the gloss of art.
GOLDSMITH.

UPON that night when fairies light,
On Cassilis Downans + dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean the rout is taen,

Beneath the moon's pale beams;

There, up the cove, to stray an' rove

It is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and other mischief. making beings, are all a broad on their baneful midnight errands; partic ularly those aerial people, the fairies, are said on that night to hold a grand anniversary.

↑ Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neighborhood of the ancient seat of the earls of Cassilis.

A noted cavern near Colean-house, called the Cove of Colean; which, as well as Cassilis Downans, is famed in country story for be ing a favorite haunt for fairies.

Amang the rocks an' streams,

To sport that night.

11.

Amang the bonie, winding banks,

Where Doon rins, wimplin, clear,

Where Bruce* ance rul'd the martial ranks,
And shook his Carrick spear,

Some merry, friendly, countra folks,

Together did convene,

To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks,

An' haud their Halloween,

Fu' blythe that night.

III.

The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat,
Mair braw than when they're fine;
Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly kythe,
Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin':
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,
Weel knotted on their garten,
Some unco blate, and some wi' gabs,
Gar lasses' hearts gang startin,
Whyles fast that night.

IV.

Then first and foremost, thro' the kail,

Their stocks maun a' be sought ance;

The famous family of that name, the ancestors of Robert, the great deliverer of his country, were earls of Carrick.

The first ceremony of Halloween is, pulling each a stock, or plant of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the rst they meet with. Its being big or little, straight or crooked, is prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells-the husband or wife. If any yird, or earth, stick to the root, that is toucher,

They steek their een, an' graip an' wale,
For muckle anes an' straught anes.
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
An' wander'd thro' the bow-kail,
An' pow't, for want o' better shift,
A runt was like a sow-tail,
Sae bow't that night.

Then, straught, or crooked, yird or nane,
They roar an' cry a throu❜ther;
The vera wee things, todlin, rin

Wi' stocks out owre their shouther;
An' gif the custock's sweet or sour,
Wi' joctelegs they taste them;

Syne coziely, aboon the door,

Wi' cannie care they've plac'd them,
To lie that night.

VI.

The lasses staw frae 'mang them a',
To pou their stalks o' corn;
But Rab slips out, an' jinks about,
Behint the muckle thorn:

He grippet Nelly hard an' fast,

or fortune; and the taste of the custock, that is, the heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their ordinary appellation, the runts, are placed somewhere above the head of the door: and the christian names of the people whom chance brings into the house, are, according to the priority of placing the runts, the names in question.

They go to the barn-yard, and pull each, at three several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the tap-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage-bed anything but a maid.