TAM O' SHANTER.

A TALE.

Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday.

She prophesied, that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon,

Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk
By Alloway's auld, haunted kirk.

Ah! gentle dames, it gars me greet, To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthen'd, sage advices The husband frae the wife despises !

our tale: Ae market

But to night, Tam had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;

And at his elbow, Souter Johnie,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy cronie :
Tam lo'ed him like a very brither;
They had been fou for weeks the-
gither.

The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter;

And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious Wi' secret favours, sweet and precious: The Souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus:

The storm without might rair and rustle,

Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy. As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:

Kings may be blest but Tam was glorious,

O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!

But pleasures are like poppies spread :

You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;

Or like the snow falls in the river,

And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,

Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn ;

And near the thorn, aboon the well, Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;

The lightnings flash from pole to pole;

Near and more near the thunders roll:

When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,

Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing,

And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn, What dangers thou canst make us scorn!

Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;

Wi' usquabae, we 'll face the Devil! The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,

Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle. But Maggie stood, right sair astonish'd,

Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,

She ventur'd forward on the light; And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight!

Warlocks and witches in a dance: Nae cotillion, brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,

Put life and mettle in their heels.
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat Auld Nick, in shape o'
beast;

A tousie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge:
He screw'd the pipes and gart them
skirl,

Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. Coffins stood round, like open presses,

That shaw'd the dead in their last

dresses;

And, by some devilish cantraip sleight,
Each in its cauld hand held a light:
By which heroic Tam was able
To note upon the haly table,
A murderer's banes, in gibbet-airns ;
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd
bairns;

A thief new-cutted frae a rape —
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;
Five tomahawks wi' bluid red-rusted;
Five scymitars wi' murder crusted;
A garter which a babe had strangled;
A knife a father's throat had man-
gled-

Whom his ain son o' life bereft -
The grey-hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi' mair of horrible and awefu',
Which even to name wad be unlawfu'.

Louping and flinging on a crummock, I wonder did na turn thy stomach !

But Tam kend what was what fu brawlie:

There was ae winsome wench and wawlie,

That night enlisted in the core,
Lang after kend on Carrick shore
(For monie a beast to dead she shot,
An' perish'd monie a bonie boat,
And shook baith meikle corn and
bear,

And kept the country-side in fear).
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 kend thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,

Wi' twa pund Scots ('t was a' her riches),

Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun

cour,

Sic flights are far beyond her power: 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; Even Satan glowr'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 all was dark;
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion sallied.

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds assail their byke;

As open pussie's mortal foes,

102

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 skriech and hollo.

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 woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane of 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 off her master
hale,

But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

The playful pair crowd fondly by thy side:

Ah, helpless nurslings, who will now provide

That life a mother only can bestow?

V.

Oft as by winding Nith I, musing, wait The sober eve, or hail the cheerful

dawn,

I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy

lawn,

And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn

thy hapless fate.