I've heard my rev'rend graunie say, Nod to the moon, Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, Wi' eldritch croon." When twilight did my graunie summon, Or, rustlin, thro' the boortrees comin, Wi' heavy groan. е Ae dreary, windy, winter night, Ayont the lough; Ye, like a rash-buss,' stood in sight, Wi' wavin sough.8 The cudgel in my nieve did shake, When wi' an eldritch, stoor "quaick, quaick," Amang the springs, Awa ye squatter'd' like a drake, On whistlin wings. Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags, Wi' wicked speed; And in kirk-yards renew their leagues, Thence countra wives, wi' toil and pain, a unearthly moan. • slanting. 1 flapped. b respectable. • ghostly. k churn. d elder trees. b deep. C.A. Young, 12 ADDRESS TO THE DEIL For oh! the yellow treasure's ta'en By witchin skill; An' dawtit, twal-pint hawkieb's gane As yell's the bill." Thence mystic knots mak great abuse Is instant made no worth a louse, Just at the bit. When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord, An' float the jinglin icy boord, Then water-kelpies haunt the foord, By your direction, And 'nighted trav'llers are allur'd To their destruction. And aft your moss-traversin Spunkies Till in some miry slough he sunk is, When masons' mystic word an' grip The youngest brither ye wad whip Aff straught to hell. Lang syne in Eden's bonie yard, When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd, d An' all the soul of love they shar'd, The raptur'd hour, Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird, In shady bower;1 Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog! Ye cam to Paradise incog, An' play'd on man a cursed brogue b (Black be your fa'!) An' gied the infant warld a shog, 'Maist ruin'd a'. D'ye mind that day when in a bizzd 'Mang better folk, An' sklented on the man of Uzz Your spitefu' joke? An' how ye gat him i' your thrall, Wi' bitter claw; An' lows'd his ill-tongu'd wicked scaul', Was warst ava? But a' your doings to rehearse, Sin' that day Michael 2 did you pierce, Down to this time, Wad ding a Lallan' tongue, or Erse,k In prose or rhyme. SCOTCH DRINK An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin, Some luckless hour will send him linkin To your black pit; But faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin, An' cheat you yet. But fare-you-weel, auld Nickie-ben! Still hae a stake: I'm wae to think upo' yon den, Ev'n for your sake! Scotch Drink.1 Gie him strong drink until he wink, An' liquor guid to fire his bluid, Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, Till he forgets his loves or debts, An' minds his griefs no more. SOLOMON'S PROVERBS, Xxxi. 6, 7. LET other poets raise a frácas 'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drucken Bacchus, An' grate our lug©: I sing the juice Scotch beard can mak us, O thou, my muse! guid auld Scotch drink! Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink, * perhaps. b annoy. An unlovely theme, according to Mr Matthew Arnold, The assault on the Excise is interesting. Fergusson's • ear. d barley. Caller Oysters, rather than his Caller Water, is the inspiration here. Let husky wheat the haughs adorn, Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn, e On thee aft Scotland chows her cood,d Wi' kail an' beef; But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood, Food fills the wame, an' keeps us leevin; The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin,h Thou clears the head o' doited Lear;1 Thou even brightens dark Despair Aft, clad in massy siller weed, The poor man's wine; His wee drap parritch, or his bread, |