Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/18

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$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$The boss rejoicing o'er their summer toils,
Unnumber'd buds and flow'rs, delicious spoils,
Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles,
Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the weak,
The death o' deevils, smoor'd wi' brunstane reek!
The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side,
The wounded coveys recling, scatter wide:
The feather'd field-mates, bound by nature's tie,
Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage he:
(What warm, poetic heart but inly bleeds,
And execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds!)
Nae mair the flower in field or meadow springs;
Nae nair the grove with airy concert rings,
Except, perhaps, the Robin's whistling glee,
Proud of the height of some but hauf-lang tree;
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$The hoary mern precedes the sunny days,
Md. calm, serene, wide spreads the noontide blaze,
While thick the gossamer waves wanton in the rays.
'Twas in that season when a simple Bard,
Unknown, and poor, simplicity's reward,
Ae night, within the ancient Brugh o' Ayr,
By whim inspir'd, or hap'ly prest wi' care,
He left his bed, and took his wayward rout,
And down by Simpson's^[1] wheel the left about
(Whether impell'd by all-directing Fate,
To witness what I after shall narrate;
Or whether, rapt in meditation high,
He wander'd out he knew not where or why).
The drowsy Dungeon-clock had number'd two,
And Wallace's Tow'r^[2] had sworn the fact was true;

1. A noted Tavern at the Auld Brig-end
2. The two Steeples.