4
Or like the Borealis rays,
That flit ere you can point the place:
Or like the rainbow's lovely form,
Evaniſhing anmid the ſtorm
Ne man can tether Time or Tide,
The hour approache. Tam maun ride;
That hour, o' night', black arch the keyſtane,
That drear hour he mounts his beast in,
And sic a night he taks the road in,
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
The win' blew as 'twad blawn its last,
The ratilin showers roſe on the blast;
The ſpeedy gleama the darkneſs ſwallow'd,
Loud, deep and lang the thunder hellow'd:
That night a child might underſtand,
The deil had business on his hand.—
Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,
A better never lifted leg.
Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire,
Despising wind, and rain and fire;
Whiles hadding fast his gude blue bonnet;
Whiles crooning o'er an auld Scot sonnet:
Whiles glowring round wi' prudent cares,
Let bogles catch him unawares;
KIRK ALOWAY was-drawing nigh,
Where ghaists and howlets nightly cry—
By this time he was cross the ford,
Wliare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd
Asd past the birks and meikle stane,
Whare drunken Charlie brake's neck bane:
And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,
Whaere hunter's fan the murder'd bairn;
And near the thorn aboon the well,
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