Nae doubt but ye may get a sight! "Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor, The simmer had been cauld an' wat, An' stuff was unco green; An' aye a rantin kirn we gat, An' just on Halloween It fell that night. "Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen, He gat hemp-seed," I mind it weel, Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck, An' he swoor by his conscience, The auld guidman raught down the pock, Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk, An' try't that night. "Steal out, unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed, harrowing it with anything you can conveniently draw after you. Repeat now and then: "Hemp-seed, I saw thee, hemp-seed, I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true love, come after me and pou thee." Look over your left shoulder, and you will see the appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions say, "Come after me and shaw thee," that is, show thyself; in which case, it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say: "Come after me and harrow thee."-R. B. He marches thro' amang the stacks, Tho' he was something sturtin; An' her that is to be my lass Come after me, an' draw thee He roar'd a horrid murder-shout, An' young an' auld come rinnin out, He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw, Meg fain wad to the barn gaen, To winn three wechts o' naething;12 She pat but little faith in: 12 This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone. You go to the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is danger that the being about to appear may shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which in our country dialect we call a "wecht," and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times, and the third time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door and out at the other, having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life.-R. B. She gies the herd a pickle nits, An' twa red cheekit apples, To watch, while for the barn she sets, She turns the key wi' cannie thraw, They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice; For some black, grousome carlin; A wanton widow Leezie was, As cantie as a kittlen; But och! that night, amang the shaws, She gat a fearfu' settlin! She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn, An' owre the hill gaed scrievin; Whare three lairds' lan's met at a burn,14 To dip her left sark-sleeve in, Was bent that night. 13 Take an opportunity of going unnoticed to a "bear-stack," and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.-R. B. 14 You go out, one or more (for this is a social spell), to a south running spring, or rivulet, where "three lairds' lands meet," and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake, and, some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it.-R. B. Tiles owre a linn the burnie plays, les glitter'd to the nightly rays, es cookit underneath the braes, Unang the brachens, on the brae, Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool; Near lav'rock-height she jumpit, In order, on the clean hearth-stane, In wrath that night. Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, Their sports were cheap an' cheery: Till butter'd sowens,16 wi' fragrant lunt, të take three dishes, put clean water in one, foul water in another, and leave the când cuple, bhudtold a person and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are d. be (or she) dips the left hand; if by chance in the clean water, the future Chand or wite will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a waw. if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It ix repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.-R. B. te Sowes with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper. Set a' their gabs a-steerin; They parted aff careerin Fu' blythe that night. TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH, NOVEMBER, 1785 WEE, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, I'm truly sorry man's dominion, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't! Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. |