Ossian Collection > Selections from the Gaelic bards

A FAIR DAY. 213
Some iiew-leanied reel to his experienced ear,
Who sits and listens in sarcastic calm ;
But when he stops, pays him high compliments,
And vows 'tis time for him to quit the stage.
Now that such fingers on the strings are laid.
The chief musician of the Fair is this,
Whose voice goes thrilling through the bungler's heart,
Wlio takes for gospel every word that's said.
And so the young man, moving to the door.
Nurses the praise within his flattered mind,
Till it uplifts his step upon his toes,
Like Shakespeare's Diomed, in scorn of earth.
Then touching scraps of lively tunes.
The minstrel rolls his sightless eyes and waits
Until the hall begins to fill anon ;
And the exciting motion, once afoot.
Increases furiously until the dawn.
See from that tavern pour a jolly rout,
Not yet excited with the lively draught.
Friends treat their friends, and bargain-makers meet,
And o'er the liquor talk of times gone by,
Or mention matters that obtain to-day ;
The Ancient, with blue bonnet laid aside,
Fills up the glass that circulates to all.
The comely belle takes but a modest sip ;
The older spinster, rising in her turn,
With glass in hand, says some appropriate words,
" To the good health of all," and does but taste, —
Protesting faintly that her head is weak.
And that indeed she cannot, dare not more.
Yet yielding most reluctantly, 't would seem.
To the warm pressure of the welcome kind.
That pours so heartily from, every side.
Wliat can she do, but sacrifice herself?
And suck in slowly every diamond drop,
Looking like Socrates, the poisoned sage.
In pensive resignation all the while.
A wringing pressure from the horny hand,