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MRS. ALICIA RUTHERFORD

COCKBURN

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST

I'VE seen the smiling

Of fortune beguiling;

I've felt all its favours, and found its decay:

Sweet was its blessing,

Kind its caressing;

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I've seen the forest,

Adornèd the foremost

With flowers of the fairest most pleasant and gay;

Sae bonny was their blooming!

Their scent the air perfuming!

But now they are withered and weeded away.

I've seen the morning

With gold the hills adorning,

And loud tempest storming before the mid-day;
I've seen Tweed's silver streams,

Shining in the sunny beams,

Grow drumly and dark as he rowed on his way.

Oh fickle Fortune,

Why this cruel sporting?

Oh, why still perplex us, poor sons of a day?
Nae mair your smiles can cheer me,

Nae mair your frowns can fear me;

For the Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.

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ROBERT FERGUSSON

THE FARMER'S INGLE

Et multo in primis hilarans convivia Baccho,
Ante focum, si frigus erit. . . .- Virg. Buc.

WHEN gloamin' grey out-owre the welkin keeks;
When Batie ca's his owsen to the byre;

When Thrasher John, sair dung, his barn-door steeks,
And lusty lasses at the dightin' tire;

5 What bangs fu' leal the e'enin's coming cauld,
And gars snaw-tappit winter freeze in vain;
Gars dowie mortal look baith blythe and bauld,
Nor fley'd wi' a' the poortith o' the plain;
Begin, my Muse! and chaunt in hamely strain.

10 Frae the big stack, weel winnow't on the hill,
Wi' divots theekit frae the weet and drift;
Sods, peats and heathery truffs the chimley fill,
And gar their thickening smeek salute the lift,
The gudeman, new come hame, is blythe to find,
When he out-owre the hallan flings his een,
That ilka turn is handled to his mind;

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That a' his housie looks sae cosh and clean;

For cleanly house loes he, though e'er so mean.

Weel kens the gudewife that the pleughs require
A heartsome meltith, and refreshing synd
O' nappy liquor, owre a bleezin' fire;

Sair wark and poortith downa weel be join'd.
Wi' butter'd bannocks now the girdle reeks;

I' the far nook the bowie briskly reams;
The readied kail stand by the chimley cheeks,

And haud the riggin het wi' welcome streams,
Whilk than the daintiest kitchen nicer seems.

Frae this let gentler gabs a lesson lear:

Wad they to labouring lend an eident hand, They'd rax fell strang upon the simplest fare,

Nor find their stamacks ever at a stand. Fu' hale and healthy wad they pass the day;

At night in calmest slumbers dose fu' sound;

Nor doctor need their weary life to spae,

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Nor drugs their noddle and their sense confound, Till death slip sleely on, and gie the hindmost wound.

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On sicken food has mony a doughty deed

By Caledonia's ancestors been done;
By this did mony a wight fu' weirlike bleed
In brulzies frae the dawn to set o' sun.
'Twas this that braced their gardies, stiff and strang,
That bent the deadly yew in ancient days;

Laid Denmark's daring sons on yird alang;
Gar'd Scottish thristles bang the Roman bays;

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For near our crest their heads they doughtna raise. 45

The couthy cracks begin when supper's owre;
The cheering bicker gars them glibly gash
O' simmer's showery blinks, and winter sour,

Whase floods did erst their mailin's produce hash. 50 'Bout kirk and market eke their tales gae on;

How Jock woo'd Jenny here to be his bride;

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55 The fient a cheep's amang the bairnies now, For a' their anger's wi' their hunger gane: Aye maun the childer, wi' a fastin mou',

Grumble and greet, and mak an unco mane. In rangles round, before the ingle's lowe,

60 Frae gudame's mouth auld warld tales they hear, O' warlocks loupin' round the wirrikow;

O' ghaists, that win in glen and kirk-yard drear; Whilk touzles a' their tap, and gars them shak wi’ fear!

100 Then a' the house for sleep begin to grien,
Their joints to slack frae industry a while;
The leaden god fa's heavy on their een,

And hafflins steeks them frae their daily toil;
The cruizy, too, can only blink and bleer,
105 The reistit ingle's done the maist it dow;
Tacksman and cottar eke to bed maun steer,
Upon the cod to clear their drumly pow,
Till waken'd by the dawnin's ruddy glow.

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