Page:Four funny tales.pdf/4



But pleaſures are like poppies ſpread, You ſeize the flow'r, is bloom is ſhed; Or like the ſnow falls 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 key-ſtane, That dreary hour he mounts his beaſt in; And fic a night he tacks the road in, As ne'er poor ſinner was abroad in.

The wind blew as 'twad blawn its laſt; The rattling ſhow'rs roſe on the blaſt; The ſpeedy gleams the darkneſs ſwallow'd; Lond, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd: That night, a child might underſtand, The deil had bufineſs on his hand.

Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam ſkelpit on thro' dub and mire, Deſpiſing wind, and rain, and fire Whiles haudin faſt his gude blue bonnet; Whiles crooning o'er ſome auld Scots ſonnet: Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares; Left bogles catch him unawares: Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaiſts and houlets nightly cry.———

By this time he was croſs the ford, Whare in the ſnaw the chapman-ſmoor'd; And paſt the hirks and meikle ſtane, Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck bane; And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, Whare hunters ſand the murder'd bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Whare Mungo's mither hang'd herſel.———