But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there!

For why?--his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware.

So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly--which brings me to The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin, out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.

The calender, amazed to see His neighbour in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him:

"What news? what news? your tidings tell!

Tell me you must and shall - Say why bareheaded you are come, Or why you come at all?"

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke:

"I came because your horse would come, And, if I well forbode, My hat and wig will soon be here - They are upon the road."

The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Returned him not a single word, But to the house went in;

Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn Thus showed his ready wit, "My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit.

"But let me sc.r.a.pe the dirt away That hangs upon your face; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case."

Said John, "It is my wedding-day, And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware."

So turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine."

Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast!

For which he paid full dear; For, while he spake, a braying a.s.s Did sing most loud and clear;

Whereat his horse did snort, as he Had heard a lion roar, And galloped off with all his might, As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig: He lost them sooner than at first; For why?--they were too big.

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, She pulled out half-a-crown;

And thus unto the youth she said That drove them to the Bell, "This shall be yours, when you bring back My husband safe and well."

The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain: Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein;

But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry:

"Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!"

Not one of them was mute; And all and each that pa.s.sed that way Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short s.p.a.ce; The toll-men thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town; Nor stopped till where he had got up He did again get down.

Now let us sing, Long live the king!

And Gilpin, long live he!

And when he next doth ride abroad May I be there to see!

TAM O'SHANTER: A TALE

BY ROBERT BURNS.

"Of brownyis and of bogilis full is this buke."

--GAWIN DOUGLAS.

When chapman billies leave the street, {147a} And drouthy neibors neibors meet, {147b} As market days are wearin' late, And folk begin to tak the gate; {147h} While we sit bousing at the nappy, And gettin' fou and unco' happy, {147c} We think na on the lang Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles, {147d} That lie between us and our hame, Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, As he frae Ayr ae night did canter, (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpa.s.ses For honest men and bonny la.s.ses.)

O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!

She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum, {147e} A blethering, bl.u.s.tering, drunken blellum; {147f} That frae November till October, Ae market day thou wasna sober; That ilka melder, wi' the miller {147g} {147i} Thou sat as lang as thou hadst siller; That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. {148f} She prophesied that, late or soon, Thou wouldst be found deep drowned in Doon!

Or catched wi' warlocks i' the mirk, {148a} By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet {148b} To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthened, sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale:- Ae market night, Tam had got planted unco right.

Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, {148c} Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; {148d} And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither - They had been fou for weeks thegither!

The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter, And aye the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours secret, sweet, and precious; The Souter tauld his queerest stories, The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle - Tam didna mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drowned himsel among the nappy! {148e} As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes winged 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 flower, its bloom is shed!

Or like the snowfall in the river, A moment white--then melts for ever; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm.

Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches, Tam maun ride; That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; And sic a night he taks the road in As never poor sinner was abroad in.

The wind blew as 'twad blown its last; The rattling showers rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed; Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed: That night, a child might understand The deil had business on his hand.

Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on through dub and mire, {149a} Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glowering round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares: Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.

By this time he was 'cross the foord, Whare in the snow the chapman smoored, {149b} And past the birks and meikle stane Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane: And through the whins, and by the cairn Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Where Mungo's mither hanged hersel'.

Before him Doon pours a' his floods; The doubling storm roars through the woods; The lightnings flash frae pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll; When glimmering through the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze; Through ilka bore the beams were glancing, {150h} And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!

What dangers thou canst mak us scorn!

Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil: Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil! - The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle, Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle. {150a} 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 cotillon brent-new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle i' their heels: At winnock-bunker, i' the east, {150b} There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast, A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, {150c} To gie them music was his charge; He screwed the pipes, and gart them skirl, {150d} Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. {150e} Coffins stood round, like open presses, That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses; And by some devilish cantrip slight {150f} 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; {150g} Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted: Five scimitars, 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 grey hairs yet stack to the heft: Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', Which even to name wad be unlawfu'.