"How?" cried the mayor, "d'ye think I'll brook

Being worse treated than a cook?
Insulted by a lazy ribald

Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after

The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.

The mayor was dumb, and the council stood

As if they were changed into blocks of wood,

Unable to move a step, or cry
To the children merrily skipping by-
And could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the piper's
back.

But how the mayor was on the rack, And the wretched council's bosoms beat,

As the piper turned from the High Street

To where the Weser rolled its waters Right in the way of their sons and daughters!

However, he turned from south to west, [dressed, And to Koppelberg Hill his steps adAnd after him the children pressed; Great was the joy in every breast.

Blow your pipe there till you burst!"

Once more he stept into the street; And to his lips again

Laid his long pipe of smooth straight

cane:

And ere he blew three notes (such sweet

Soft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured a ́r) There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling

Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling; Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,

Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering; And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,

He's forced to let the piping drop, And we shall see our children stop!' When, lo, as they reached the moun

tain's side,

A wondrous portal opened wide, As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;

And the piper advanced and the children followed; And when all were in, to the very last,

The door in the mountain side shut fast.

Did I say all? No! One was lame, And could not dance the whole of the way!

And in after years, if you would blame

His sadness, he was used to say,-
"It's dull in our town since my play-
mates left!

I can't forget that I'm bereft
Of all the pleasant sights they see,
Which the piper also promised me;
For he led us, he said, to a joyous
land,

Joining the town and just at hand,

Alas, alas for Hamelin!

There came into many a burgher's pate

A text which says that Heaven's gate

Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the needle's eye takes a camel in! The mayor sent east, west, north, and south,

To offer the piper by word of mouth. Wherever it was men's lot to find him,

Silver and gold to his heart's content. If he'd only return the way he went, And bring the children behind him. But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor,

And piper and dancers were gone for

ever,

They made a decree that lawyers

never

Should think their records dated duly

If, after the day of the month and year

TAM O'SHANTER.

A TALE.

Brownyis and of Bogilis, full is this Buke. -Gawin Douglas.

WHEN chapman billies leave the

street,

And drouthy neebors, neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
An' folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousing at the nappy,1
An' getting fou and unco happy,
We thinkna on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky sullen dame
Gath'ring her brows like gath'ring
storm,

Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam O'
Shanter,

As he frae Ayr ae night did canter
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town sur-

She prophesy'd that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;

Or catch'd wi' warlocks i' the mirk," By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me

greet,8

To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthen'd, sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale: A market night, Tam had got planted unco right; Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;

And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither: They had been fou for weeks thegither.

The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter;

And ay the ale was growing better; The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favors, secret, sweet, and precious:

The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: [rustle,

The storm without might rair and Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sa happy, E'en drowned himself amang the nappy! [ure, As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasThe minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure;

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,

O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread, [shed; You seize the flow'r, its bloom is

Frothing ale.

3 Idle talker.

Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white - then melts for

ever:

Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place:
Or like the rainbow's lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm.

Nae man can tether time or tide:The hour approaches Tam maun ride:

That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane,

That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;

And sic a night he taks the road in,

As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;

The rattling show'rs rose on the blast;

The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;

Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd:

That night, a child might understand, The Deil had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg,

A better, never lifted leg,

Tam skelpit on throu' dub and mire,

Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet;

Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;

Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent

And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,

Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn;

And near the thorn, aboon the well, Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel.

Before him Doon pours all his floods;

The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;

The lightnings flash from pole to pole;

Near and more near the thunders roll:

When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,

Kirk Alloway seem'd in a bleeze; Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing;

And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn!

Wi' tippeny, we fear nae evil;
Wi' usquebae, we'll face the Devil!
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's
noddle,

Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle. But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,

Till, by the heel and hand admonished,

She ventured forward on the light;
And wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance:
Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and
reels,

Put life and mettle in their heels.
At winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick, in shape o'
beast;

A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,

8 Forced.

Scream.

Coffins stood round, like open presses, That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;

And by some devilish cantrip1 slight
Each in its cauld hand held a light,-
By which heroic Tam was able
To note upon the haly table,
A murderer's banes in gibbet airns; 2
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;
Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted;
A garter, which a babe had strangled;
A knife, a father's throat had man-
gled,

Whom his ain son o' life bereft,
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu',
Which ev'n to name wad be un-
lawfu',

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,

Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; To sing how Nannie lap and flang

Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans

A' plump and strapping in their teens;

Their sarks, instead o' creeshie 5 flannen,

Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linnen!6

Thir' breeks o' mine, my only pair, That ance were plush, o' gude blue hair,

I wad a gi'en them off my hurdies,8 For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies!

And how Tam stood, like ane be

1 Magic.

2 Irons.

Greasy.