THE HAUNTET WUD. In imitation of JOHN BARBOUR, an old Scotch Poet. _____ QUHY screim the crowis owr yonder
wud, Witht loude and clamourying dynne, Haf deifenynge the torrentis
roare, Quhilk dashis owr yon linne? Quhy straye the flokis far
outowr, Alang the stanery lee, And wil nocht graze anear the
wud, Thof ryche the pasturis be? And quhy dis oft the
shepherdis dog, Gif that ane lamikyne straye, Ay yamf and yowl besyde the wud,
Nae farther yn wil gaye? “Marvil thee nocht at
quhat thou seist.” The tremblynge Rusticke sayde, “For yn that feindis-hauntet wud, Hath guyltiles blude been sched. “Thou seist far down yon
buschye howe, An eldrin castil greye, Witht teth of tyme, and weir of
wyndis, Fast mouldiryng yn decaye. “ ’Twas ther the jealous Barrone livit, Witht Lady Anne hys wife, He fleichit her neatht that wudis dark glume, And revit hyr ther of lyffe. “And eir hyr fayre bodye was
founde, The flesch cam fra the bane, The snailis sat, feistyng onne
hyr cheikis, The spydiris velit her ein. “And evir syne nae beist nor
byrde Will byde twa nichtis ther, For fearfull yellis and
screichis wylde Are heird throch nicht sae dreir.” ’Twas thus dark ignorance did
ween, In fancy’s wizard-reign, When minstrel-fiction won
belief, O'er Scotland’s wide domain. |