Fast the patt'ring hail was fa'ing,
And the sowping rain as thick,
Loud and snell the whurlwind blowing,
Wheyle the neeght was dark as pick.

When upon her strea couch liggan,
Susan steep'd her waukreyfe een,
And about her crazy biggin,
Rwoard the hollow whurlblast keen.

In each arm a bairn lay sleepin',
I' their luiks lank famine sat,
And their een seem'd blear'd wi' weepin',
For the things they seldom gat.

On her lwonly bed she toss'd her,
Darkin till the tempest ceast;
But puor lass nea change of posture,
Calm'd the conflict of her breast.

In her feace a heart sair anguish'd,
Meight a stranger's eye survey;
Six dree years had Susan Ianguish'd,
Sen her Walter went away.

He far owr the stormy ocean,
Wan on India's distant shore,
Courtin' Fortune and promotion,
E'en amid the battle's rwoar.

Sair agean his inclination,
Watty left his heame and ease,
Weyfe, bairns, and ilk keyn'd relation,
To traverse the dangerous seas.

Widow leyke, his absence mournin',
Monny a sleepless night she past,
Prayin' ay his seafe returnin',
As she lythe'd the lengthnin' blast.

Blwoated grew her een and squallid,
That befwore wi' lustre fill'd,
Wan her lip, her cheek how pallid,
That Vermillion once excell'd.

Yence the rwose and lilly blended,
In fair Susan's breydal feace;
But fwoak said, whea erst had ken'd it,
Sadly alter'd was the cease,

She whea leate sea douse and jolly,
Need hae turn'd her feace frae nean,
Suon thro' grief and melancholy,
Turns to parfect skin and beane.

Cruel fate thy mandate alter,
Oft she murmur'd in despair;
Give me, give me, back my Walter,
Give me him, I ask nea mair.

Here disconsolate and weary,
Are my days of sorrow past,
An' my neeghts forlorn and eerie,
That ilk yen I wish my last.

But a spring of whope yet cheers me,
And our wee yen's yammerin' noise,
Mair than ought to leyfe endears me,
Bwodin still some future joys.

Yes, my luive, tho' sair I mourn him,
Fate shall shield frae circling harms,
And keyn'd providence return him,
To these lang expecting arms.

Hark, the whurlblast loudly blusters,
Dreary howling owr my head,
A' with rage the tempest musters,
On my crazy clay-built shed.

Wintry blasts that bluster owr me,
Waft my sighs to Walter's ears;
Gales auspicious quick restwore me,
Him whea's smeyles can dry my tears.

Fancy whether wad'st thou lead me,
Say what phantom's to impart,
Visionary shades owrspread me,
To amuse my love-lorn heart.

There my Walter's feace I view now,
'Mid the leeghtnen's transcient glare,
Pleasing form, I'll thee pursue now,
But 'tis geane, and I despair.

Hark! what shriek was that 'at mingl'd
Wi' the liftan tempest howl?
On my ears leyke fate it jingl'd,
Peircing to my varra soul.

Was it not my true love ca'ing?
Was't not leyke his weel-kend tone?
Say puor heart, where art thou fa'ing?
Fancy say where art thou gone?

Heavier now the tempest musters,
Down in plennets teems the rain,
Louder ay the whurlblast blusters,
Sweepin' owr the spacious plain.

Susan fill'd wi' apprehension,
At the dismal dang'rous rwoar,
Suon is fix'd in mute attention,
Wi' loud knockin's at her door.

Susan, rise, a voice loud bawling
Said, unbar the envious door;
Whea commands, she scream'd, then falling
Senseless, streek'd her on the fluor.

Wi' a rounge, the yieldin' hinges
Frae the partin' stoothens flee,
In the storm-struck stranger swinges,
Walter enters, yes, 'twas he.

Swift to Susan's aid he hies him,
Greapin roun' the weel-kenn'd bower,
Leeght the leeghtnin's flash supplies him,
Her he spies upon the fluor.

In his arms he gently rears her,
Softly lifts her droopin' head,
Anxious owr the room he bears her,
And recleyn'd her on her bed.

But his tongue was pinch'd to falter,
Wake, my fair one, wake, and see,
Wake, and cheer thy long lost Walter,
Seafe return'd to luive and thee.

Lang she sleeps not, strugglin' nature,
Suon suspended leyfe restwores,
On his habit, form, and stature,
Wi' impatient weyldness pores.

Frae his arms in deep confusion,
Till her ingle swift she flies,
Thoughtful this was a' illusion,
That bewitch'd her ears and eyes.

Prodlin' up the smotherin' embers,
Swift the sweelin hether flies,
She nea treace of him remembers,
Alter'd sair by his disguise.

Sowp'd wi' rain, wi' glore bespatter'd,
Frowzy beard and visage wan,
Teated locks and garments tatter'd,
Mair he seem'd of ghaist than man.

Ah, cried he, can time sea alter,
Fwoaks as thus to be forgot;
Fair yen, I'm thy faithful Walter,
Canst thou, Susan, know me not?

When his weel-kenn'd voice she listens,
A' her doubts are soon supprest,
In her een keen transpwort glistens,
And she sunk upon his breast.

Here awheyle with ardour glowing,
Stuode the lover and his weyfe,
Beath their hearts wi' joy owrflowing,
Suon he kiss'd her into leyfe.

Yes, she said, thou lang-lost stranger,
Thou art still my husband dear,
Seafe I whope return'd frae danger,
And nea mair to leave me here.

What tho' thou'rt wi' muck bespater'd,
What tho' thou'rt in weafu' pleyght,
Matted locks and vestments tatter'd,
Still thou art my sauls deleyte.

Here my luive, let us together,
Thro' leyfe's mazy windin's weade,
Each assisting yen anither,
Oft may leeght our common leade.

When thus Walter, lowly bendin',
On his knees, wi' hands uprais'd.
Heav'n the virtuous still defendin',
Ever be thy guidness prais'd.

Here fulfil'd is a' I need for,
Here are a' my sorrows lost,
And the gear I sair have tried for,
Sweetens frae the pains it cost.

Know, my luive, tho' foul and tatter'd,
In my present garb and graith,
Tho' with muck and mire bespatter'd,
I've enough to bless us baith.

Fortune to my plans propitious,
Has bestow'd me rowth o' wealth,
Heaven to virtue still auspicious,
Thro' a' has ay preserv'd my health.

Tweyce ten thousand pounds await me,
We sall yet see happier days,
Yet nea rank sal e'er elate me,
Providence commands my praise.

'Midst the battle's devastation,
Fell my Captain stunn'd with blows,
I succeeded to his station,
By this chance my fortune rose.

Wealth in heaps now seem'd to press me,
Honours wait me day and night,
Fortune seem'd resolv'd to bless me,
In amends for former spite.

Thus with riches in abundance,
Suon I quitted India's shore,
And securin' that redundance,
Sought agean my native shore.

But of a' the joys I've teasted,
Or mun e'er expect to teaste,
In teyme to come, or teyme far weasted,
This, this moment joys me meast.

Suon as London pwort we enter'd,
Off I set without delay,
Thro' the storms and tempests ventur'd,
Luive nea patience had for stay.

Cheer thee, then my Susan cheer thee,
Pleasure yet thy cheek shall cheer,
Think thy Wat will ay be near thee,
Think thy Luive will ay be near.