Let none e'er reside in the crime marked dwellings, For ever disgraced by Burke and by Hare, May the cold damp of horror lie dark in their ceilings, And their pale ghastly walls still be dismal and bare.

Let their guilt and their gloom speak of nothing but terror, Some dark deeds of blood to the stranger declare, And ages to come ever mark them with horror, For the ghosts of the murdered will still gather there.

ELEGAIC LINES WRITTEN ON THE TRAGICAL MURDER OF POOR DAFT JAMIE.

Attendance give, whilst I relate How Poor Daft Jamie met his fate; 'Twill make your hair stand on your head, As I unfold the horrid deed;--

That h.e.l.lish monster, William Burke, Like Reynard sneaking on the lurk, Coy-duck'd his prey into his den, And then the woeful work began;--

"Come, Jamie, drink a gla.s.s wi' me, And I'll gang wi' ye in a wee, To seek yer mither i' the toun-- Come drink, man, drink, an' sit ye doun."

"Nae, I'll no' drink wi' ye the nou, For if I div 'twill make me fou;"

"Tush, man, a wee will do ye guid, 'Twill cheer yer heart, and warm yer bluid."

At last he took the fatal gla.s.s, Not dreaming what would come to pa.s.s; When once he drank, he wanted more-- Till drunk he fell upon the floor.

"Now," said th' a.s.sa.s.sin, "now we may Seize on him as our lawful prey."

"Wait, wait," said Hare, "ye greedy a.s.s; He's yet too strong--let's tak' a gla.s.s."

Like some unguarded gem he lies-- The vulture wants to seize his prize; Nor does he dream he's in his power, Till it has seized him to devour.

The ruffian dogs,--the h.e.l.lish pair,-- The villain Burke,--the meagre Hare,-- Impatient were their prize to win, So to their smothering pranks begin:--

Burke cast himself on Jamie's face, And clasp'd him in his foul embrace; But Jamie waking in surprise, Writhed in an agony to rise.

At last, with nerves unstrung before, He threw the monster on the floor; And though alarm'd, and weaken'd too, He would have soon o'ercome the foe;

But help was near--for it Burke cried, And soon his friend was at his side; Hare tripp'd up Jamie's heels, and o'er He fell, alas! to rise no more!

Now both these blood-hounds him engage, As hungry tygers fill'd with rage, Nor did they handle axe or knife, To take away Daft Jamie's life.

No sooner done, than in a chest They cramm'd this lately-welcom'd guest, And bore him into Surgeons' Square-- A subject fresh--a victim rare!

And soon he's on the table laid, Expos'd to the dissecting blade; But where his members now may lay Is not for me--or you--to say.

But this I'll say--some thoughts _did_ rise, It fill'd the students with surprise, That so short time did intervene Since Jamie on the streets was seen.

But though his body is destroy'd, His soul can never be decoy'd From that celestial state of rest, Where he, I trust, is with the bless'd.

MRS. WILSON'S LAMENTATION ON HEARING OF THE CRUEL MURDER OF HER SON.

Why didst thou wander from my side, My joy, my treasure, and my pride?

Though others little thought of thee, Though wert a treasure dear to me.

I little thought when thee I left, So soon of thee to be bereft; Or that when after me you sought You would by ruffian men be caught.

Thy playful manners fill'd with joy The aged sire and sportive boy; Of real joy you had enough, When you could give or take a snuff.

The tricks you play'd with childish art, Bound you the closer to my heart; Thy kindness to thy mother prov'd How dearly she by thee was lov'd.

What horrid monsters were these men Who lur'd thee to their fatal den; That den, whose deeds as yet untold, Were done for sake of sordid gold.

But they alone were not to blame; For when these dauntless monsters came With human creatures scarcely cold, The doctors took them, we were told.

Nor did they leave the doctors door Without an order to bring more!

But Justice stern aloud doth cry-- "Let all who wink at murder die!"

And justice shall to me be done, On all who murder'd my poor son;-- I'll make appeal to Britain's King, That one and all of them may swing.

But that will not restore my son, Or remedy the mischief done; He murder'd is--no peace I have, I shall go mourning to my grave.

DAFT JAMIE.

The following is a chap-book version of the ballad quoted at pp. 205-6.

O! dark was the midnight when Hare fled away, Not a star in the sky gave him one cheering ray, But still now and then, would the blue lightnings glare, And some strange cries a.s.sail'd him, like shrieks of despair.

Over vale, over hill, I will watch thee for ill; I will haunt all thy wanderings and follow thee still.

But, lo! as the savage ran down the wild glen, For no place did he fear like the dwellings of men, Where the heath lay before him all dismal and bare, The ghost of Daft Jamie appeared to him there.

Over vale, &c.

I am come, said the shade, from the land of the dead, Though there is for Jamie no gra.s.s covered bed, Yet I'm come to remind you of deeds that are past, And to tell you that justice will find you at last.

Over vale, &c.

O! Hare, thou hast been a dark demon of blood, But vengeance shall chase thee o'er field and o'er flood; Though you fly away from the dwellings of men, The shades of thy victims shall rise in thy den.

Over vale, &c.

When night falls on the world, O! how can you sleep, In your dreams do you ne'er see my poor mother weep?

Sadly she wept; but, O! long shall she mourn, E'er poor wandering Jamie from the grave shall return.

Over vale, &c.

From the grave, did I say, and though calm is the bed Where slumber is dreamless, the home of the dead, Where friends may lament, there sorrow may be, Yet no grave rises as green as the world for me.

Over vale, &c.

O! Hare, go to shelter thy fugutive head, In some land that is not of the living or dead; For the living against thee may justly combine, And the dead must despise such a spirit as thine.

Over vale, &c.

O! Hare fly away, but this world cannot be The place of abode to a demon like thee, There is gall in your heart--poison is in your breath, And the glare of your eyes is as fearful as death.