The Mysteries of All Nations Part 16

That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaw.

When last the wind made Glaud a roofless barn; When last the burn bore down my mither's yarn; When Brawny, elf-shot, never mair came hame; When Tibby kirn'd, and there nae b.u.t.ter came; When Bessy Freetock's chuffy-cheeked wean To a fairy turn'd, and cou'dna stand its lane; When Wattie wander'd ae night thro' the shaw And tint himsell amaist amang the snaw; When Mungo's mare stood still and swat wi' fright, When he brought east the howdy under night; When Bawsy shot to dead upon the green; And Sara tint a snood was nae mair seen;-- You, lucky, gat the wyte of a' fell out; And ilka ane here dreads ye round about,-- And say they may that mint to do ye skaith: For me to wrang ye I'll be very laith; But when I neist make groats, I'll strive to please You with a firlot of them mixt with pease.

MAUSE.

I thank ye, lad!--Now tell me your demand; And, if I can, I'll lend my helping hand.

BAULDY.

Then, I like Peggy; Neps is fond of me; Peggy likes Pate; and Patie's bauld and slee, And looes sweet Meg; but Neps I downa see.

Could ye turn Patie's love to Neps, and then Peggy's to me, I'd be the happiest man.

MAUSE.

I'll try my airt to gar the bowls row right; Sae gang your ways and come again at night; 'Gainst that time I'll some simple things prepare, Worth all your pease and groats, tak ye nae care.

BAULDY.

Well, Mause, I'll come, gif I the road can find; But if ye raise the deil, he'll raise the wind; Syne rain and thunder, maybe, when 'tis late Will make the night sae mirk, I'll tine the gate.

We're a' to rant in Symie's at a feast,-- O! will ye come, like badrans, for a jest?

And there you can our different haviours spy; There's nane shall ken o't there but you and I.

MAUSE.

'Tis like I may: But let na on what's past 'Tween you and me, else fear a kittle cast.

BAULDY.

If I aught of your secrets e'er advance, May ye ride on me ilka night to France!

MAUSE.

This fool imagines--as do many sic-- That I'm a witch in compact with Auld Nick, Because by education I was taught To speak and act aboon their common thought: Their gross mistake shall quickly now appear; Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me here.

Now since the royal Charles, and right's restor'd, A shepherdess is daughter to a lord.

The bonny foundling that's brought up by Glaud, Wha has an uncle's care on her bestow'd,-- Her infant life I sav'd, when a false friend Bow'd to the usurper, and her death design'd, To establish him and his in all these plains That by right heritage to her pertains.

She's now in her sweet bloom, has blood and charms Of too much value for a shepherd's arms.

None know't but me!--And if the morn were come, I'll tell them tales will gar them a' sing dumb.

SIR WILLIAM.

How goes the night? does day-light yet appear Symon, you're very timeously asteer.

SYMON.

I'm sorry, sir, that we've disturb'd your rest; But some strange thing has Bauldy's spirit opprest, He's seen some witch, or wrestled with a ghaist.

BAULDY.

O! ay; dear sir, in troth, 'tis very true; And I am come to make my plaint to you.

SIR WILLIAM.

I lang to hear 't.

BAULDY.

Ah! sir, the witch ca'd Mause, That wins aboon the mill amang the haws, First promis'd that she'd help me with her art, To gain a bonny thrawart la.s.sie's heart.

As she had trysted, I met wi'er this night; But may nae friend of mine get sic a fright!

For the curst hag, instead of doing me good-- The very thought o't's like to freeze my blood!

Rais'd up a ghaist, or deil, I kenna whilk, Like a dead corse in sheet as white as milk; Black hands it had, and face as wan as death.

Upon me fast the witch and it fell baith, And gat me down, while I, like a great fool, Was labour'd as I wont to be at school.

My heart out of its hool was like to loup; I pithless grew with fear, and had nae hope; Till, with an elritch laugh, they vanished quite.

Syne I half dead with anger, fear, and spite, c.r.a.p up and fled straight frae them, sir, to you, Hoping your help to gie the deil his due.

I'm sure my heart will ne'er gie o'er to dunt, Till in a fat tar-barrel Mause be burnt!

SIR WILLIAM.

Troth, Symon, Bauldy's more afraid than hurt; The witch and ghaist have made themselves good sport.

What silly notions crowd the clouded mind, That is through want of education blind!

SYMON.

But does your honour think there's nae sic thing As witches raising deils up through a ring?

Syne playing tricks--a thousand I could tell-- Cou'd ne'er be contriv'd on this side h.e.l.l.

SIR WILLIAM.

Such as the devil's dancing in a moor, Amongst a few old women craz'd and poor, Who were rejoiced to see him frisk and lowp O'er braes and bogs with candles in * * *

Appearing sometimes like a black-horn'd cow, Aft-times like Bawty, Badrans, or a sow; Then with his train through airy paths to glide, While they on carts, or clowns, or broomstaffs ride; Or in an egg-sh.e.l.l skim out o'er the main, To drink their leader's health in France or Spain; Then aft by night b.u.mbaze hare-hearted fools, By tumbling down their cupboards, chairs, and stools.

Whate'er's in spells, or if there witches be, Such whimsies seem the most absurd to me."

To glean from Cowper, Wordsworth, Tennyson, and the many other poets who have contributed to superst.i.tious lore, would swell this portion of our work (_The Poets and Superst.i.tion_) to an undue proportion; and therefore we take leave of the poets, after giving extracts from Longfellow, whose talented effusions are not only read and appreciated in America and England, but over the whole world.

FROM "THE GOLDEN LEGEND."

LUCIFER.

"Hasten! hasten!

O ye spirits!

From its station drag the ponderous Cross of iron, that to mock us Is uplifted high in air!

VOICES.

O, we cannot!

For around it All the saints and guardian angels Throng in legions to protect it; They defeat us everywhere!

THE BELLS.

Laudo Deum verum!

Plebem voco!

Congrego clerum!

LUCIFER.

Lower! lower!

Hover downward!

Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and Clas.h.i.+ng, clanging, to the pavement Hurl them from their windy tower!

VOICES.

All thy thunders Here are harmless!

For these bells have been anointed, And baptised with holy water!

They defy our utmost power.

THE BELLS.