13 Dark 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' steep and craig she battled, Till she reached the hoped sojourn. Proud 'mamg 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, oak, 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, 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' grane; "Help! oh help!" quo' Jeanie, weeping- “Help my infants, or they're gane.
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