ADDRESS
TO
THE
DEIL
.
O
Prince
,
O
chief
of
many
throned
pow'rs
,
That
led
th'embattl'd
Seraphim
to
war
—
MILTON
.
O
Thou
,
whatever
title
suit
thee
!
Auld
Hornie
,
Satan
,
Nick
,
or
Clootie
,
Wha
in
yon
cavern
grim
an'
sootie
,
Clos'd
under
hatches
,
Spairges
about
the
brunstane
cootie
,
To
scaud
poor
wretches
!
Hear
me
,
auld
Hangie
,
for
a
wee
,
An'
let
poor
,
damned
bodies
bee
;
I'm
sure
sma'
pleasure
it
can
gie
,
Ev'n
to
a
deil
,
To
skelp
an'
scaud
poor
dogs
like
me
,
An'
hear
us
squeel
!
Great
is
thy
pow'r
,
an'
great
thy
fame
;
Far
kend
an'
noted
is
thy
name
;
An'
tho'
yon
lowan
heugh's
thy
hame
,
Thou
travels
far
;
An'
faith
!
thou's
neither
lag
nor
lame
,
Nor
blate
nor
scaur
.
Whyles
,
ranging
like
a
roaran
lion
,
For
prey
,
a'
holes
an'
corners
tryin
;
Whyles
,
on
the
strong-wing'd
Tempest
flyin
Tirlan
the
kirks
;
Whyles
,
in
the
human
bosom
pryin
,
Unseen
thou
lurks
.
I've
heard
my
rev'rend
Graunie
say
,
In
lanely
glens
ye
like
to
stray
;
Or
where
auld
,
ruin'd
castles
,
gray
,
Nod
to
the
moon
,
Ye
fright
the
nightly
wand'rer's
way
,
Wi'
eldritch
croon
.
When
twilight
did
my
Graunie
summon
,
To
say
her
pray'rs
,
douse
,
honest
woman
!
Aft'
yont
the
dyke
she's
heard
you
bumman
,
Wi'
eerie
drone
;
Or
,
rustling
,
thro'
the
boortries
coman
,
Wi'
heavy
groan
.
Ae
dreary
,
windy
,
winter
night
,
The
stars
shot
down
wi'
sklentan
light
,
Wi'
you
,
mysel
,
I
gat
a
fright
,
Ayont
the
lough
;
Ye
,
like
a
rash-buss
,
stood
in
sight
,
Wi'
waving
sugh
.
The
cudgel
in
my
nieve
did
shake
,
Each
bristl'd
hair
stood
like
a
stake
,
When
wi'
an
eldritch
,
stoor
quaick
,
quaick
Amang
the
springs
,
Awa
ye
squatter'd
like
a
drake
,
On
whistling
wings
,
Let
Warlocks
grim
,
an'
wither'd
Hags
,
Tell
how
wi'
you
on
ragweed
nags
,
They
skim
the
muirs
an'
dizzy
crags
,
Wi'
wicked
speed
;
And
in
kirk-yards
renew
their
leagues
,
Owre
howcket
dead
.
Thence
,
countra
wives
,
wi'
toil
an'
pain
,
May
plunge
an'
plunge
the
kirn
in
vain
;
For
Oh
!
the
yellow
treasure's
taen
.
By
witching
skill
;
An'
dawtet
,
twal-pint
Hawkie's
gane
As
yell's
the
Bill
.
Thence
,
mystic
knots
mak
great
abuse
,
On
Young-Guidmen
,
fond
,
keen
an'
croose
;
When
the
best
wark-lume
i'
the
house
,
By
cantraip
wit
,
Is
instant
made
no
worth
a
louse
,
Just
at
the
bit
.
When
thowes
dissolve
the
snawy
hoord
,
An'
float
the
jinglan
icy
boord
,
Then
,
Water-kelpies
haunt
the
foord
,
By
your
direction
,
An'
nighted
Trav'llers
are
allur'd
To
their
destruction
.
An'
aft
your
moss-traversing
Spunkies
Decoy
the
wight
that
late
an'
drunk
is
:
The
bleezan
,
curst
,
mischievous
monkies
Delude
his
eyes
,
Till
in
some
miry
slough
he
sunk
is
,
Ne'er
mair
to
rise
.
When
MASONS'
mystic
word
an'
grip
,
In
storms
an'
tempests
raise
you
up
,
Some
cock
or
cat
,
your
rage
maun
stop
,
Or
,
strange
to
tell
!
The
youngest
Brother
ye
wad
whip
Aff
straught
to
H
—
ll
.
Lang
syne
in
EDEN'S
bonie
yard
,
When
youthfu'
lovers
first
were
pair'd
,
An'
all
the
Soul
of
Love
they
shar'd
,
The
raptur'd
hour
,
Sweet
on
the
fragrant
,
flow'ry
swaird
,
In
shady
bow'r
.
Then
you
,
ye
auld
,
snick-drawing
dog
!
Ye
cam
to
Paradise
incog
,
An'
play'd
on
man
a
cursed
brogue
,
(
Black
be
your
fa'
!
)
An'
gied
the
infant
warld
a
shog
,
'Maist
ruin'd
a'
.
D'ye
mind
that
day
,
when
in
a
bizz
,
Wi'
reeket
duds
,
an'
reestet
gizz
,
Ye
did
present
your
smoutie
phiz
,
'Mang
better
folk
,
An'
sklented
on
the
man
of
Uzz
,
Your
spitefu'
joke
?
An
how
ye
gat
him
i'
your
thrall
,
An'
brak
him
out
o'
house
an'
hal'
,
While
scabs
an'
botches
did
him
gall
,
Wi'
bitter
claw
,
An'
lows'd
his
ill-tongu'd
,
wicked
Scawl
Was
warst
ava
?
But
a'
your
doings
to
rehearse
,
Your
wily
snares
an'
fechtin
fierce
,
Sin'
that
day
Vide
Milton
,
Book
6th.
MICHAEL
did
you
pierce
,
Down
to
this
time
,
Wad
ding
a'
Lallan
tongue
,
or
Erse
,
In
Prose
or
Rhyme
.
An'
now
,
auld
Cloots
,
I
ken
ye're
thinkan
,
A
certain
Bardie's
rantin
,
drinkin
,
Some
luckless
hour
will
send
him
linkan
,
To
your
black
pit
;
But
faith
!
he'll
turn
a
corner
jinkan
,
An'
cheat
you
yet
.
But
fare-you-weel
,
auld
Nickie-ben
!
O
wad
ye
tak
a
thought
an'
men'
!
Ye
aiblins
might
—
I
dinna
ken
—
Still
hae
a
stake
—
I'm
wae
to
think
upo'
yon
den
,
Ev'n
for
your
sake
!