'Mid sic excitin' scenes, Inglis amaist Forgat the frien'ly warnin' nae to taste; An' raxin' oot his han', the wine-cup took, But just in time was warnised by a look-- An' sic a look! it gealed his very heart, An' pierced him thro' an' thro' as wi' a dart-- Upon a pedestal was placed upright A weird-like form,--as if to hide from sight, O'erstrewn with leaves,--and, draped in gory red, It seemed the statue of some monster dread; Around its head were tendrils of the vine; To bind this chaplet two pale snakes entwine. Silent and stern, in death-like rest it sate, Waiting its certain prey from time or fate; Nor life, nor motion did it show,--until The call went forth the goblets all to fill, Then, lifting up its head, it glared around, As if rejoicing in the welcome sound. All suddenly it seemed to spring to life, As if to handle drink betokened strife; Its eyes flashed vividly, it grimly smiled To see poor Inglis thus almost beguiled.-- As thus its figure burst upon his view, Inglis knew well _who_ waited for his due-- Sae saftly settin' doun the cup in fear He stole a cautious glance to those war' near. "Why don't you drink the toast?" his neebours cry. Quo Inglis, "Sirs, I'm nae just byous dry." "Treason! vile treason!" roars an elfin carl; "Here's a base mortal from the outer warl'!" Syne sic a rippet raise! sic yells an' cries! While rage flashed furious in the elfin eyes, Some rinnin' here, some there, whiles some pell-mell, Roared oot wi' glee, "He'll pay our Kain to hell." "Wae's me!" thocht Inglis, "I'll be en'it noo; This comes o' gain frae hame an' getting fou." Wi' that his frien', the knicht, spak' up an cried, "Silence! the Queen shall this affair decide." Strauchtway they harle him 'fore the royal chair An' place him, like a culprit, tremblin' there. Her Majesty exclaims, "How came _you_ here?" Quo Inglis, "Gracious Queen, I'm vera seer It wasna wi' my wull; an', gin ye'll tak' My honest word for't, I sall ne'er come back;" An' syne he tauld her a', baith crap an' root, That drink was just the cause o't, oot an' oot. "Well! all that may be true," the Queen replies; "I fear you hear your doom in these wild cries." "Nae doubt," quo Inglis, "sair eneuch's my case, Unless I pity get at your sweet face. It's nae just for mysel' I beg my life, But for _her_ sake at hame--my dear Guidwife." And syne the knicht spak' oot, "My Gracious Queen, This culprit and his forebears all have been Neighbours to us and ours for many a day, And aye were kindly, and ne'er wrought us wae; His pardon thus I crave upon my knee." "Rise, sir; 'tis granted; but thus shall it be: If e'er again he cheat his leal Goodwife, And with such cantrips plague her very life; Or with such spates of drink he daze himsel', Some day he's sure to pay our Kain to hell." All instant changed; but how, he never kenn'd.