William Mickle

Rating: 4.67
Rating: 4.67

William Mickle Poems

And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Mak haste, lay by your wheel;
...

The dews of summer nighte did falle,
The moone (sweete regente of the skye)
Silver'd the walles of Cumnor Halle,
And manye an oake that grewe therebye.
...

William Mickle Biography

William Mickle's father was the minister of Langholm, Dumfries-shire. Mickle was educated in Edinburgh. When he was fifteen he entered the brewery business. His father bought the business and when he passed away Mickle inherited it. His devotion to literature though kept him away from business matters leading him to bankruptcy. In 1763 he went to London. Two years later he published a poem called The Concubine He joined the Clarendon Press as a corrector. Mickle translated The Lusiad of Camoens into couplets. The whole work was published in 1775. His reputation and fame grew with this translation. He was appointed secretary to Commodore Johnstone and visited Lisbon in 1779, where he was feted and the king of Portugal gave a public reception for him When he returned to London he was employed as an agent responsible for distributing prize money. The amount he received for this along with the earnings from his translations assured him of a comfortable income. William Julius Mickle died in 1788.)

The Best Poem Of William Mickle

There's Nae Luck About The House

And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Mak haste, lay by your wheel;
Is this the time to spin a thread
When Colin's at the door?
Reach me my cloak, I'll to the quay
And see him come ashore.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.

And gie to me my bigonet,
My bishop's satin gown;
For I maun tell the bailie's wife
That Colin's come to town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
My stockings pearly blue;
It's a' to pleasure my gudeman,
For he's baith leel and true.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.

Rise, lass, and mak a clean fire side,
Put on the muckle pot,
Gie little Kate her button gown,
And Jock his Sunday coat;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw,
It's a' to please my ain gudeman,
For he's been lang awa.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.

There's twa fat hens upo' the bauk,
Been fed this month and mair,
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare;
And mak the table neat and clean,
Gar ilka thing look braw,
For wha can tell how Colin fared
When he was far awa?
Ah, there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.

Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
His breath like cauler air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stair!
And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.

If Colin's weel, and weel content,
I hae nae mair to crave--
And gin I live to keep him sae,
I'm blest aboon the lave.
And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.

William Mickle Comments

Barbara Nichols 27 August 2006

William Mickle is my 7th g/uncle. His father Rev. Archibald Meikle was the brother to my 7th g/grandfather. Perhaps it is William who I get my poetry writing from as no-one in my family does poetry.

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Barbara Nichols 27 August 2006

William Julius Mickle is my 7th G/uncle and his name was originally Meikle. His father, Rev. Archibald was brother to my 7th G/grandfather Robert Meikle. Perhaps it is he who I get my writing of poems from as no-one else in my family writes!

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