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epistle to mrs. scott

gudewife of wauchope—house, roxburghshire.

gudewife,

i mind it weel in early date,

when i was bardless, young, and blate,

an' first could thresh the barn,

or haud a yokin' at the pleugh;

an, tho' forfoughten sair eneugh,

yet unco proud to learn:

when first amang the yellow corn

a man i reckon'd was,

an' wi' the lave ilk merry morn

could rank my rig and lass,

still shearing, and clearing

the tither stooked raw,

wi' claivers, an' haivers,

wearing the day awa.

e'en then, a wish, (i mind its pow'r),

a wish that to my latest hour

shall strongly heave my breast,

that i for poor auld scotland's sake

some usefu' plan or book could make,

or sing a sang at least.

the rough burr-thistle, spreading wide

amang the bearded bear,

i turn'd the weeder-clips aside,

an' spar'd the symbol dear:

no nation, no station,

my envy e'er could raise;

a scot still, but blot still,

i knew nae higher praise.

but still the elements o' sang,

in formless jumble, right an' wrang,

wild floated in my brain;

'till on that har'st i said before,

may partner in the merry core,

she rous'd the forming strain;

i see her yet, the sonsie quean,