Page:Scotland's skaith, or, The sad effects of drunkenness (1).pdf/13

 13 Fast o'er fallowed lea she brattled, Deep she wade through bag and burn, Sair wie steep and craig she battled, Till she reached the hope sojourn. Proud, 'mang scenes of simple nature, Stately, auld, a mansion stood, On a bank, whase sylvan feature Smiled out ower the roaring flood. Simmer there, in varied beauty, Late her flow'ry mantle spread, Whar auld chesnut, ake, and yew tree, Mingling, lent their friendly shade, Blasted now wi' Winter's ravage, A'their gaudy livery cast, Wood and glen in wailings savage, Sung and howled to ilka blast. Darkness stalked wi' fancy terror, Mountains moved and castles rocked; Jean half dead wi' toil and horror, Reached the door and loudly knocked. Wha thus rudely wakes the sleeping ? Cry'd a voice wi' ang!y grane: Help! oh help! quo' Jeanie, weeping, Help my infants, or they're gane. Nipt wi' canld, wi hunger fainting, Baith lie speechless on the lea! Help! quo' Jeanie, loud lamenting, Help my lammies, or they'll die.