HALLOWEEN.* The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners 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 honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own. Amang the bonnie winding banks, Where Doon rins, wimpling clear, Where Bruces ance ruled the martial ranks, An' shook his Carrick spear, Some merry, friendly countra folks, Together did convene, To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks, Fu' blythe that night. The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, Is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and other mischief-making beings, are all abroad on their baneful, midnight errands; particularly those aërial people the fairies, are said on that night to hold a grand anniversary. + Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neighbourhood of the ancient seat of the Earls of Cas Bilis. A noted cavern near Colean house, called the Cove of Colean which, as Cassilis Downans, is famed in country story for being a favourite haunt of fairies. § The famous family of that name, the ancestors of Robert, the great deliverer of his country, were Earls of Carrick. IV. Then first and foremost, through the kail, An' wander'd through the bow-kail, V. Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane, Wi' stocks out-owre their shouther; VI. The lasses staw frae 'mang them a', VII. The auld guidwife's weel hoordet nits§ Are there that night decided: * 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 first they meet with: its being big or little, straight or crooked, is prophetie 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 tocher, or fortune; and the taste of the custor, 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 top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage bed any thing but a maid. When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green, or wet, the stack-builder, by means of old timber, &c., makes a large apartment in his stack, with an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind: this he calls a fause-house. § Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the fire, and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be. Some start awa wi' saucie pride, Fu' high that night. VIII. Jean slips in twa, wi' tentie e'e; Wha 'twas she wadna tell; But this is Jock, an' this is me, She says in to hersel: He bleezed owre her, an' she owre him, As they wad never mair part; Till fuff! he started up the lum, IX. Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt, Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie; An' Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt, To be compared to Willie: Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' fling, An' her ain fit it burnt it; While Willie lap, and swoor by jing, 'Twas just the way he wanted To be that night. X. Nell had the fause-house in her min', But Merran sat behint their backs, Her thoughts on Andrew Bell; She through the yard the nearest taks, An' aye she wint, an' aye she swat, Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these directions: Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clue of blue yarn; wind it in a new clue off the old one; and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand wha hauds? 1. e. who holds ? an answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the Christian and surname of your tuture spouse. XIII. Wee Jenny to her grannie says, "Ye little skelpie-limmer's face! "Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen, Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck, The auld guidman raught down the pock, Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk, Sometimes when nae ane seed him : An' try't that night. Take a candle, and go alone to a looking-glass; eat an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb your hair, all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder. Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of hempseed; harrowing it with any thing you can conveniently draw after you. Repeat now and then, "Hemp-seed, I saw thee, hemp-seed, I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true love, come after me and pou thee." Look over your left shoulder, and you will see the appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions say, "come after me, and shaw thee," that is, show thyself: in which case it simply appears Others omit the harrowing, and say, "come after me, and harrow thee." XVIII. He marches through amang the stacks, Though he was something sturtin; The graip he for a harrow taks, An' haurls at his curpin: An' every now an' then he says, "Hemp-seed, I saw thee, An' her that is to be my lass, Come after me and draw thee, As fast this night." XIX. He whistled up Lord Lenox' march Out-owre that night. XX. He roar'd a horrid murder-shout, An' young an' auld came rinnin out, He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw, XXI. Meg fain wad to the barn gaen, To win three wechts o' naething;* But for to meet the deil her lane, She pat but little faith in : To watch, while for the barn she sets, XXII. She turns the key wi' cannie thraw An' owre the threshold ventures But first on Sawnie gies a ca', Syne bauldly in she enters; A ratton rattled up the wa', An' she cried L-d preserve her, An' ran through midden-hole an' a', An' pray'd wi' zeal an' fervour, Fu' fast that night. * This charm must likewise be performed unperceived, and alone. You go to the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is danger that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht; and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times; and the third time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life. XXIII. They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice: A wanton widow Leezie was, But och that night, amang the shaws, She through the whins, an' by the cairn," Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle; XXVI. Amang the brachens, on the brae, The deil, or else an outler quey, Poor Leezie's heart mais lap the hool; But mist a fit, an' in the pool In order, on the clean hearth-stane, * Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a Bear stack, and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appear ance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow. You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a south running spring or rivulet, where "three lairds lands meet," and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some time near midnight, an appa. rition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it. Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, leave the third empty: blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes ar ranged: he (or she) dips the left hand: if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered And every time great care is ta'en, To see them duly changed: In wrath that night. Wi' merry sangs, and friendly cracks, An' unco tales, an' funnie jokes, Their sports were cheap an' cheery, Till butter'd so'ns,* wi' fragrant lunt, Set a' their gabs a-steerin; Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt, They parted aff careerin Fu' blythe that night. THE AULD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE, ON GIVING HER ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN THE NEW-YEAR. A GUID new-year I wish thee, Maggie! Hae, there's a rip to thy auld baggie : Though thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggie, I've seen the day, Thou could hae gaen like ony зtaggie Out-owre the lay. Though now thou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy, An' thy auld hide's as white's a daisy, I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glaizie, A bonnie gray: He should been tight that daur't to raize thee, Thou ance was i' the foremost rank, It's now some nine an' twenty year, An' fifty mark; Though it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear, An' thou was stark. When first I gaed to woo my Jenny, Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie: Though ye was trickie, slee, an' funnie, Ye ne'er was donsie ; But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie, An' unco sonsie. That day, ye pranced wi' muckle pride, When ye bure hame my bonnie bride; An' sweet, an' gracefu' she did ride, Wi' maiden air! Kyle Stewart I could bragged wide, For sic a pair. Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween supper. When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow, We took the road aye like a swallow: At brooses thou had ne'er a fellow, For pith an' speed: But every tail thou pay't them hollow, Where'er thou gaed. The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle, Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle Thou was a noble fittie-lan, Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han', For days thegither. Thou never braindg't, an' fetch't, an' fliskit, But thy auld tail thou wad hac whiskit, An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket, Wi' pith, an' pow'r, Till spritty knowes wad rair't and risket, An' slypet owre. When frosts lay lang, an' snows were deep, An' threaten'd labour back to keep, I gied thy cog a wee-bit heap Aboon the timmer; I kenn'd my Maggie wad na sleep The cart or car thou never restit; The stevest brae thou wad hae fac't it: Thou never lap, and sten't, and breastit, Then stood to blaw; But just thy step a wee thing hastit, Thou snoov't awa. My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a': Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw: Forbye sax mae, I've sell't awa. That thou hast nurst: They drew me thretteen pund an' twa, The vera warst. Monie a sair daurk we twa hae wrougnt An' wi' the weary warl' fought! And monie an anxious day, I thought We wad be beat! Yet here to crazy age we're brought, Wi' something yet. |