13
Park and darker grew the night aye;
Loud and sair the cauld winds thud—
Jean now spied a sma’ bit lightie
Blinkin’ 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 fallowed lea she brattled,
Deep she wade through bog and burn;
Sair wi’ s'eep and craig she battled,
Till she reached the hoped sojourn.
Prou l ’mang scenes o’ simple nature.
Stately auld, a mansion stood
On a bank, whose sylvan feature
Smiled out-owre the roaring flood.
Summer here, in varied beauty,
Late her flowery mantle spread,
Where auld chestnut, ork, and yew tree,
Mingling, lent their friendly shade.
Blasted now wi’ winter’s ravage,
A’ their gaudy liven’ cast,
Wood and glen, in wailings savage,
Howl and murmur to the blast!
Darkness stalked wi’ fancy's terror —
Mountains moved, and castle rocked!
Jean, half dead wi’ toil and horror,
Reached the door, and loudly knocked.
“Wha thus; rudely wakes the sleeping?”
Cried a voice wi angry grane;
“Help! oh help!” quo’ Jeanie, weeping—
“Help my infants, or they're gane.
