Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!
What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
Wi' tippenny we fear nae evil ;
Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil !-
The swats sae ream'd in TAMMIE'S noddle,
Fair play, he car'd nae deils a bodle.
But Maggie stood right sair astonishid,
Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
She ventur'd forward on the light;
And, wow ! Tam saw an unco sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance;
Nae cotillon brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
Put life and mettle in their heels.
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick in shape o' beast;
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge :
He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,
Till roof and rafters a' did diri.
Coffins stood round like open presses,
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;
And by some devilish cantrip sleight,
Each in his cauld hand held a light.-
By which heroic Tam was able
To note upon the haly table,
À murderer's banes in gibbet-airns ;
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns;
A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;
Five tomahawks, wi' blude red rusted;
A garter, which a babe had strangled ;
Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted,
A knife a father's throat had mangled,
Whom his ain son o' life bereft,
The grey hairs yet stak to the heft;
Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu',
Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'.

As TAMMIE glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : The piper loud and louder blew : The dancers quick and quicker flew; They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, And coost her duddies to the wark, And linkit at it in her sark!

Now TAM, O Tam! had thae been queans, A' plump and strappin' in their teens; Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, Been snaw-white se'enteen hunder linen; Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, That ance were plush o' gude blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies !

But wither'd beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal,
Lowping and flinging on a crummock,
I wonder didna turn thy stomach.

But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie, There was ae winsome wench and walie, That night enlisted in the core, (Lang after kennd on Carrick shore ! For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish'd mony a bonnie boat, And shook baith muckle corn and bear, And kept the country side in fear;) Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntieAh ! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots, (twas.a' her riches,) Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches !

But here my muse her wing maun cour; Sic flight are far beyond her power ; To sing how Nannie lap and flang, (A simple jade she was and strang,) And how TAM stood, like one bewitch'd, And thought his very een enrich'd ; Even Satan glow'rd and fidg'd fu' fain, And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main : Till first ae caper, syne anither, Tam tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out, “ Weel done, Cutty-sark!" And in an instant a' was dark: And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied.

As bees biz out wi' angry fyke,
When plundering herds assail their byke ;
As open pussie's mortal foes,
When, pop ! she starts before their nose ;

As eager runs the market-crowd,
When “ Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
Bo Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow.

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam ! thou'lt get thy fairin :
In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!
Kate soon will be a waefu' woman !
Now, do thy speedy utmost Meg,
And win the key stane of the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they darena cross :
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake !
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam with furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie's mettle-
he spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail :
The carling cláught her by the ruinp,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother's son, take heed :
Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys ower dear,
Remember TAM O'SHANTER'S mare.


'Just before the battle of Malplaquet,' say the chronicles of the campaign in which this encounter occurred, 'a young recruit procured a round iron plate- and what did he want with a round plate ?? perhaps some inquistive reader asks ; a question which would have been already settled but for this untimely interference. “A round iron plate, which (to continue our quotation) he desired a tailor to fasten on the inside of his coat, above his left breast, to secure his heart from being shot through.' And here let us remark, How praiseworthy was the intention of this raw recruit! Not had he obtained a round iron plate for that com mon use such articles are put to, viz. the protection of the head. To endeavour to strengthen the caput would have been a vile insinuation against dame Nature, and indeed a libel upon her sanity, as conveying an idea that she had really endowed with brains the heads of men who made so little use of that gift as to risk their lives for sixpence daily. Rightly had he judged that as that part which he sought to defend is the seat of the affections, the fountain of life, the source of the passions, were he in the first affair he should be concerned in to have a hole bored in his heart, then would have but a bad heart on the whole affair. Much and well too had this shrewd soldier considered the radix or root of that word coragium, the Low Latin whence near all European nations derived their idea of that

king-becoming grace,' as Macbeth hath it, courage.' And properly had he reasoned that as couragium (the outward and visible sign) was derived from cor, the heart, so (the inward, spiritual grace) courage came from the heart ; and that to protect the latter from danger was to preserve the former from fear.

The preservation of a hero's heart is committed to the art of a tailor, to whom it is commanded to fasten the plate on the inside of the left breast of the coat :' but like that learned character in Moliere's Le Médecin malgré Liu, our' thing of shr and patches' had not bound himself to an implicit belief in the old-fangled notions of the ancients. Whether or not, indeed, the tailor had even heard of that famous comedy is not at present the question, but a part of it as it is done into English hy our own Scriblerus Secundus, is extremely accordant with the sentiments we may suppose to have been uppermost in the tailor's mind, just as he was skenning the matter over, and calculating the cabbage to be abstracted. Speaking of Miss Charlotte's duinbness, Gregory, who obtained his pharmacy as children take the cow-pox by in-knock-ulation, says, that certain spirits passing from the left side which is the seat of the liver, to the right which is the seat of the heart :' when her father remarks, 'I always thought, till now, that the heart was on the left side, and the liver on the right.' To which "The Mock Doctor' replies, Ay, sir, so they were formerly : but we have changed all that. The college at present, sir, proceeds on an entire new method.'

Proceeding on an entire new method, and not forgetting, for he as well as everybody else who had read Chaucer, the line in the Canterbury Tales anent this abstruse mystery, where the poet discourseth of changing his courage (meaning of course the seat thereof to another place :') the tailor, thus the chronicle continues, 'fixed it in the seat of his breeches. He [the recruit] no sooner put on his regimentals, than he was ordered to the field of battle.' Battles have often been known to change the state of the atmosphere, and the very rumour of this rencontre caused such an alteration in the wind, that one half of the army, and amongst them our hero, trembled at every joint, “it was so very cold. However

“La Trompette appelle aux allarmés,' as the French song saith ; 'Advance,' saith the commander; and, as Shakspeare hath it,

• Their discipline

Now mingled with their courage. • When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war,' saith the poet ; and, to conclude our list of quotations, Courage,' says Addison, écourage that grows from constitution, very often forsakes a man when he has occasion for it ;' a truism but too fully verified by our hero at the battle of Malplaquet. On this point, however, we will follow the historian, and merely say, that · Being obliged to fly, he was getting over a hedge, when a foe gave him a push with his bayonet in the breech, but it luckily hit on the iron plate, and pushed the young soldier clean over the hedge.' This favourable circumstance made him honestly confess, that the tailor had more sense than himself, and knew better where his heart lay.

Here might I inake some apposite similes drawn from the Third Book of Homer's Iliad, were it not for two excellent reasons : first, one comparison, if it be a good one, is quantum suff., and who will deny the palm of a close similarity between the story we are now narrating, and that passage where Paris,

his shining javelin threw:
Full on Atrides' ringing shield it fled:
Nor pierc'd the brazen orb, but with a bound

Leap'd from the buckler blunted to the ground. Secondly, our artist has so ably depicted the chagrin of the discomfited bayonetteer, that on this subject, at least, Comparisons are odious.


TO-MORROW, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty space from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusky death. Out, out, brief candle !
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more! It is a tale
Told by an ideot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

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