The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
Near and more near the thunders roll ;
When glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
Kirk-Alloway seemed 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 cared na Deils a bodle.
But Maggie stood right sair astonished,
Till, by the heel and hand admonished,
She ventured forward on the light;
And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight;
Warlocks and witches in a dance :
Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspreys, and reels
Put life and mettle in their heels.
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large-
To gie them music was his charge;
He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl,
Till roof an' rafter a' did dirl.
Coffins stood round like open presses,
That shawed the dead in their last dresses;
And by some devilish cantrips 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, unchristened 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 mangled,
Whom his ain son o' life bereft-
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft;
Three lawyers' tongues turned inside out,
Wi' lies seamed like a beggar's clout;
And priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck,
Lay stinking, vile, in every neuk;
Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu',
Which ev'n to name would be unlawfu',
As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious;
The piper loud and louder blew ;
The dancers quick and quicker flew ;
They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleckit,
Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,
And coost her duddies to the wark,
And linket at it in her sark.
Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans,
A' plump and strapping in their teens :
Their sarks, instead of creeshie flannen,
Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen;
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair,
I wad hae gi'en them aff my hurdies,
For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies!
But withered beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags, wad spean a foal,
Lowping an' flinging on a crummock—
I wonder did na turn thy stomach.
But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie,
There was ae winsome wench and walie,
That night enlisted in the core,
(Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore!
For monie a beast to dead she shot,
And parished monie a bonnie 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 vaunty.
Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scots (twas a' her riches)—
Wad ever graced a dance o' witches!
But here my Muse her wing maun cower,
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 one bewitched,
And thought his very een enriched.
Ev'n Satan glowred, and fidged fu' fain,
And hotched 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 plundering 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 skreech 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 woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the keystane of the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may toss-
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the keystane 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 tail o' truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son take heed;
Whene'er to drink you are inclined,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.
CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigaae !
Charge for the guns!" he said.
Into the valley of death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldiers knew
Some one had blundered:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of death,
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them,
Volleyed and thundered.
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well:
Into the jaws of death,
Into the mouths of hell,
Rode the six hundred.
Flashed all their sabers bare,
Flashed as they turned in the air,
Sab'ring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered.
Plunged in the battery smoke,
Right through the line they broke:.
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre-stroke,
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back—but not,
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them,
Volleyed and thundered:
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well,
Came through the jaws of death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
Oh, the wild charge they made !
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred !
CLOSET SCENE FROM "HAMLET."
Enter QUEEN and HAMLET.
Hamlet. Now, mother, what's the matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet ?
Queen. Have you forgot me ?
|