THE WAES O' WAR:

OR

THE UPSHOT

OF THE

HISTORY O' WILL AND JEAN

IN FOUR PARTS.

-Felices ter et amplius

Quos adversa docet Sors sapientiam,BOETH.

Thrice happy pair

Wha wit frae luckless Fortune lear!

E e 2

THE WAES O' WAR.

PART I.

On! that folk wad weel consider
What it is to tyne a-name,
What this warld is a' thegither,
If bereft o' honest fame!

Poortith ne'er can bring dishonour;
Hardships ne'er breed sorrow's smart,
If bright conscience taks upon her
To shed sunshine round the heart:

But wi' a' that wealth can borrow,
Guilty shame will ay look down;
What maun then shame, want, and sorrow
Wandering sad frae town to town.

Jeanie Miller, ance sae cheerie!
Ance sae happy, good and fair,
Left by Will, neist morning drearie
Taks the road o' black despair!

Cauld the blast!-the day was sleeting; Pouch and purse without a plack!

In ilk hand a bairnie greeting,

And the third tied on her back.

Wan her face! and lean and haggard!
Ance sae sonsy! ance sae sweet!
What a change!-unhous'd and beggar'd,
Starving without claise or meat!

Far frae ilk kent spot she wander'd,
Skulking like a guilty thief;
Here and there, uncertain, daunder'd,
Stupified wi' shame and grief:

But soon shame for bygane errors
Fled owre fast for ee to trace,

Whan grim death, wi' a' his terrors
Cam owre ilk sweet bairnie's face!

Spent wi' toil, and cauld and hunger, Baith down drapt! and down Jean sat! Dais'd and doited' now nae langer; Thought-and felt-and bursting grat.

Gloaming, fast wi' mirky shadow
Crap owre distant hill and plain;
Darken'd wood, and glen, and meadow,
Adding fearfu' thoughts to pain!

Round and round, in wild distraction,
Jeanie turn'd her tearfu' ee!
Round and round for some protection
Face nor house she could na see!

Dark, and darker grew the night aye;
Loud and sair the cauld winds thud!

Jean now spied a sma' bit lightie
Blinking through a distant wood:

Up wi' frantic haste she started;

Cauld, nor fear, she felt nae mair; Hope, for ae bright moment, darted Through the gloom o' dark despair!

Fast owre fallow'd lea she brattled;
Deep she wade through bog and burn;
Sair wi' steep and craig she battled,
Till she reach'd the hop'd sojourn.

Proud, mang scenes o' simple nature,
Stately auld, a mansion stood
On a bank, wha's sylvan feature
Smil'd out-owre the roaring flood:

Simmer here, in varied beauty
Late her flowery 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,
Sugh and howl to ilka blast!

Darkness stalk'd wi' fancy's terror;-Mountains mov'd, and castle rock'd! Jean, half dead wi' toil and horror, Reach'd the door, and loudly knock'd.

Wha thus rudely wakes the sleeping?' Cried a voice wi' angry grane ;

"Help! oh help!' quo' Jeanie, weeping,