'Tis hallow-mass time, and To mildness farewell! Its bristles are low'ring With darkness; o'erpowering Are its waters, aye showering With onset so fell; Seem the kid and the yearling As rung their death-knell. XI. Every out-lying creature, How sinew'd soe'er, Seeks the refuge of shelter; The race of the antler They snort and they falter, A-cold in their lair; And the fawns they are wasting Since their kin is afar. XII. Such the songs that are saddest And dreariest of all; I ever am eerie In the morning to hear ye! When foddering, to cheer the Poor herd in the stall-- While each creature is moaning, And sickening in thrall. [90] "Birk-shaw." A few Scotticisms will be found in these versions, at once to flavour the style, and, it must be admitted, to assist the rhymes. [91] Birds. [92] The sides of the cottages--plastered with mud or mortar, instead of lime. [93] Salmon. DIRGE FOR IAN MACECHAN. A FRAGMENT. Mackay was entertained by Macechan, who was a respectable store-farmer, from his earliest life to his marriage. According to his reverend biographer,[94] the last lines of the elegy, of which the following is a translation, were much approved. I see the wretch of high degree, Though poverty has struck his race, Pass with a darkness on his face That door of hospitality. I see the widow in her tears, Dark as her woe--I see her boy-- From both, want reaves the dregs of joy; The flash of youth through rags appears. I see the poor's--the minstrel's lot-- As brethren they--no boon for song! I see the unrequited wrong Call for its helper, who is not. You hear my plaint, and ask me, why? You ask me _when_ this deep distress Began to rage without redress? "With Ian Macechan's dying sigh!" [94] "Poems," p. 318. THE SONG OF THE FORSAKEN DROVER.