Symon. Seeing's believing, Glaud, and I ha'e seen Hab, that abroad has wi' our master been;

Our brave good master, wha right wisely fled,
And left a fair estate to save his head :
Because ye ken fou weel he bravely chose
To shine, or set in glory wi' Montrose.

Now Cromwell's gane to Nick; and ane ca'd Monk,
Has plaid the Rumple a right slee begunk;
Restor❜d King CHARLES, and ilka thing's in tune;
And Habby says, we 'll see Sir William soon.

SANG VII. Tune, Cauld Kail in Aberdeen.

Cauld be the rebels' cast,

Oppressors base and bloody,

I hope we'll see them at the last,
Strung a' up in a woody.
Blest be he of worth and sense,

And ever high in station,

That bravely stands in the defence

Of conscience, king, and nation.

Glaud. That makes me blyth indeed-but dinna flaw, Tell o'er your news again! and swear til't a'. And saw ye Hab! and what did Halbert say? They have been e'en a dreary time away.

Now God be thanked that our laird's come hame,

And his estate, say, can he eithly claim?

Symon. They that hag-rid us till our guts did grane,

Like greedy bears, dare nae mair dɔ 't again;

And good Sir William sall enjoy his ain.

Glaud, And may he lang, for never did he stent
Us in our thriving wi' a racket rent;

Nor grumbled if ane grew rich, or shor❜d to raise
Our mailens when we pat on sunday's claiths.
Symon. Nor wad he lang, with senseless saucy air,
Allow our lyart noddles to be bare;

• Put on your bonnet, Symon-tak a seat-
How 's a' at hame ?- -How 's Elpsa ?-

Kate?

-How does

How sells black cattle?-What gie's woo this year?” And sic like kindly questions wad he speer.

SANG VIII. Tune, Mucking of Geordy's byre.

The laird who in riches and honour

Wad thrive, should be kindly and free;
Nor rack his poor tenants wha labour,

To rise aboon poverty :

Else like the pack-horse that's unfother'd,
And burden'd will tumble down faint;
Thus virtue by hardship is smother'd,
And rackers aft tine their rent.

Glaud. Then wad he gar his butler bring bedeen
The nappy bottle ben, and glasses clean,
Whilk in our breast rais'd sic a blythsome flame,
As gar'd me mony a time gae dancing hame.
My heart's e'en rais'd!-Dear nibour will ye stay,
And take your dinner here wi' me the day?
We'll send for Elspa too-and upo' sight,
I'll whistle Pate and Roger frae the hight;

I'll yoke my sled and send to the niest town,

And bring a draught of ale baith stout and brown;
And går our cottars a', man, wife, and wean,
Drink till they tine the gate to stand their lane.
Symon. I wadna bauk my friend his blyth design,
Gif that it hadna first of a' been mine:

or heer-yestreen I brew'd a bow o' maut,
Yestreen I slew twa wathers prime and fat,
A furlet o' good cakes my Elspa beuk,
And a large ham hings reesting i' the nook.
I saw, my sell, or I came o'er the loan,
Our meikle pat that scads the whey put on,
A mution bouk to boil--and ane we'll roast;
And on the haggies Elspa spares nae cost;
Sma' are they shorn; and she can mix fou nice,
The gusty ingans wi' a curn o' spice.

Fat are the puddings-head and feet we 'll sung;
And we've invited nibours auld and young,

Το

pass

this afternoon wi' glee and game,

And drink our master's health and welcome hame.
Ye maunna then refuse to join the rest,

Since ye 're my nearest friend that I like best:
Bring wi' you a' your family, and then,
Whene'er you please, I'll rant wi' you again.

Glaud. Spoke like ye'r sell, auld birky, never fear But at your banquet I sall first appear :

Faith, we shall bend the bicker, and look bauld,
Till we forget that we are fail'd or auld.

Auld, said I! Troth, I'm younger by a score,
Wi' this good news, than what I was before,

I'll dance or een! hey, Madge, come forth, d'ye hear?

MADGE enters.

Madge. The man's gane gyte!-Dear Symon, welcome here:

What wa'd ye, Glaud, wi' a' this haste and din ?
Ye never let a body sit to spin.

And set the meiklest peet-stack in a low :
Syne dance about the been-fire till ye dee,
Since now again we 'll soon Sir William see.

Madge. Blyth news indeed!- -And wha was 't tald

you o't?

Glaud. What's that to you?-Gae get my Sunday's

coat;

Wale out the whitest o' my bobbit bands,

My white skin hose, and mittans for my hands;
Then frae their washing cry the bairns in haste,
And mak ye'r sels as trig, head, feet and waste,
As ye were a' to get young lads or een;

For we're gawn o'er to dine with Symi, bedeen,

Symon, Do, honest Madge-and, Glaud, I'll o'er

the gate,

And see that a' be done as I wad hae 't.

[Exeunt,

SCENE II.

PROLOGUE.

The open field.---A cottage in a glen,
An auld wife spinning at the sunny end.
At a small distance, by a blasted tree,
With faulded arms, and ha'f-rais'd looks, ye see.

BAULDY his lane.

Bauldy. What's this !

than hell,

-I canna bear! "Tis war

To be sae burnt wi' love, yet darna tell!
O, Peggy, sweeter than the dawning day,
Sweeter than gowany glens or new mawn hay:
Blyther than lambs that frisk out o'er the knows,
Straighter than aught that in the forest grows:
Her een the clearest blob of dew outshines;

The lily in her breast its beauty tines;

Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, her een,
Will be my dead, that will be shortly seen!

For Pate loes her!-waes me! and she loes Pate;
And I with Neps, by some unlucky fate,
Made a daft vow!-O! but ane be a beast,
That maks rash aiths, till he's afore the priest.
I darna speak my mind, else a' the three,
But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy.
'Tis sair to thole-I'll try some witchcraft art,
To break wi' ane, and win the other's heart.
Here Mausy lives; a witch, that for sma' price,
Can cast her cantraips, and gi'e me advice;