the vision
duan first
the sun had clos'd the winter day,
the curless quat their roarin py,
and hunger'd maukin taen her way,
to kail-yards green,
while faithless snaws ilk step betray
whare she has been.
the thresher's weary flingin-tree,
the lee-ng day had tired me;
and when the day had clos'd his e'e,
far i' the west,
ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,
i gaed to rest.
there, nely by the ingle-cheek,
i sat and ey'd the spewing reek,
that fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek,
the auld cy biggin;
an' heard the restless rattons squeak
about the riggin.
all in this mottie, misty clime,
i backward mus'd on wasted time,
how i had spent my youthfu' prime,
an' done hing,
but stringing blethers up in rhyme,
for fools to sing.
had i to guid advice but harkit,
i might, by this, hae led a market,
or strutted in a bank and crkit
my cash-at;
while here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit.
is a' th' amount.
i started, mutt&#, “blockhead! coof!”
and heav'd on high my waukit loof,
to swear by a' yon starry roof,
or some rash aith,
that i heh wad be rhyme-proof
till my st breath—
when click! the string the snick did draw;
an' jee! the daed to the wa';
an' by my ingle-lowe i saw,
now bleezin bright,
a tight, outndish hizzie, braw,
e full in sight.
ye need na doubt, i held my whisht;
the infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht
i glowr'd as eerie's i'd been dusht
in some wild glen;
whe, like ho worth, she blusht,
an' stepped ben.
green, slender, leaf-cd holly-boughs
were twisted, gracefu', round her brows;
i took her for some scottish muse,
by that same token;
and e to stop those reckless vows,
would soon been broken.
a “hair-brain'd, seal trace”
was strongly marked in her face;
a wildly-witty, rustic grace
shone full upon her;
her eye, ev'n turn'd oy space,
beam'd keen with honour.
down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen,
till half a leg was scrimply seen;
an' such a leg! my bonie jean
could only peer it;
sae straught, sae taper, tight an' —
nane else came near it.
her mantle rge, of greenish hue,
my gazing wonder chiefly drew:
deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw
a lustre grand;
and seem'd, to my astonish'd view,
a well-known nd.
here, rivers in the sea were lost;
there, mountains to the skies were toss't:
here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast,
with surging foam;
there, distant sho's lofty boast,
the lordly dome.
here, doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods;
there, well-fed irwiately thuds:
auld hermit ayr staw thro' his woods,
on to the shore;
and many a lesser torrent scuds,
with seeming roar.
low, in a sandy valley spread,
an a bh rear'd her head;
still, as in scottish story read,
she boasts a race
to ev'ry nobler virtue bred,
and polish'd grace.
by stately tow'r, or pace fair,
or ruins pe in the air,
bold stems of heroes, here and there,
i could dis;
some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare,
with feature stern.
my heart did glowing transport feel,
to see a race heroic wheel,
and brandish round the deep-dyed steel,
in sturdy blows;
while, back-recoiling, seem'd to reel
their suthron foes.
his try's saviour, mark him well!
bold richardton's heroic swell;
the chief, on sark who glorious fell,
in high and;
and he whom ruthless fates expel
his native nd.
there, where a sceptr'd pictish shade
stalk'd round his ashes lowly id,
i mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd
in colours strong:
bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd,
they strode along.
thro' many a wild, romantic grove,
near many a hermit-fancied cove
(fit haunts for friendship or for love,
in musing mood),
an aged judge, i saw him rove,
dispensing good.
with deep-struck, reverential awe,
the learned sire and son i saw:
to nature's god, and nature's w,
they gave their lore;
this, all its sourd end to draw,
that, to adore.
brydon's brave ward i well could spy,
beh old scotia's smiling eye:
who call'd on fame, low standing by,
to hand him on,
where many a patriot-name on high,
and hero shone.
duan sed
with musing-deep, astonish'd stare,
i view'd the heavenly-seeming fair;
a whispering throb did witness bear
of kindred sweet,
when with an elder sister's air
she did me greet.
“all hail! my own inspired bard!
ihy native muse regard;
nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
thus poorly low;
i e to give thee such reward,
as we bestow!
“know, the great genius of this nd
has many a light aerial band,
who, all beh his high and,
harmoniously,
as arts or arms they uand,
their bours ply.
“they scotia's race among them share:
some fire the soldier on to dare;
some rouse the patriot up to bare
corruption's heart:
some teach the bard—a darling care—
the tuneful art.
“'mong swelling floods of reeking gore,
they, ardent, kindling spirits pour;
or, 'mid the venal senate's roar,
they, sightless, stand,
to mend the ho patriot-lore,
and grace the hand.
“and when the bard, or hoary sage,
charm or instruct the future age,
they bind the wild poetric rage
in energy,
or point the inclusive page
full on the eye.
“hence, fulrton, the brave and young;
hence, dempster's zeal-inspired tongue;
hence, sweet, harmonious beattie sung
his 'minstrel ys';
or tore, with noble ardour stung,
the sceptic's bays.
“to lower orders are assign'd
the humbler ranks of human-kind,
the rustic bard, the b&# hind,
the artisan;
all choose, as various they're in'd,
the various man.
“when yellow waves the heavy grain,
the threat'ning storm some strongly rein;
some teaeliorate the pin
with tilge-skill;
and some instruct the shepherd-train,
blythe o'er the hill.
“some hint the lover's harmless wile;
some grace the maiden's artless smile;
some soothe the b'rer's weary toil
for humble gains,
and make his cottage-ses beguile
his cares and pains.
“some, bouo a district-space
explore at rge man's infant race,
to mark the embryotic trace
of rustic bard;
and careful note each opening grace,
a guide and guard.
“of these am i—y name:
and this district as mine i cim,
where ohe campbells, chiefs of fame,
held ruling power:
i mark'd thy embryo-tuneful fme,
thy natal hour.
“with future hope i oft would gaze
fond, on thy little early ways,
thy rudely, caroll'd, chiming phrase,
in uncouth rhymes;
fir'd at the simple, artless ys
of other times.
“i saw thee seek the sounding shore,
delighted with the dashing roar;
or when the north his fleecy store
drove thro' the sky,
i saw grim nature's visage hoar
struck thy young eye.
“or when the deep green-mantled earth
warm cherish'd ev'ry floweret's birth,
and joy and music p forth
in ev&#rove;
i saw thee eye the general mirth
with boundless love.
“when ripen'd fields and azure skies
call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise,
i saw thee leave their ev'ning joys,
and lonely stalk,
to vent thy bosom's swelling rise,
in pensive walk.
“when youthful love, warm-blushing, strong,
keen-shivering, shot thy nerves along,
those ats grateful to thy tongue,
th' adored name,
i taught thee how to pour in song,
to soothe thy fme.
“i saw thy pulse's maddening py,
wild send thee pleasure's devious way,
misled by fancy's meteor-ray,
by passion driven;
but yet the light that led astray
was light from heaven.
“i taught thy manners-painting strains,
the loves, the ways of simple swains,
till now, o'er all my wide domains
thy fame extends;
and some, the pride of coi's pins,
bee thy friends.
“thou st not learn, nor i show,
to paint with thomson's ndscape glow;
or wake the bosom-melting throe,
with shenstone's art;
or pour, with gray, the moving flow
warm on the heart.
“yet, all beh th' unrivall'd rose,
t e lowly daisy sweetly blows;
tho' rge the forest's monarch throws
his army shade,
yet green the juicy hawthrows,
adown the gde.
“then never murmur nor repine;
strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
and trust me, not potosi's mine,
nor king's regard,
give a bliss o'ermatg thine,
a rustic bard.
“to give my sels all in one,
thy tuneful fme still careful fan:
preserve the dignity of man,
with soul erect;
and trust the universal pn
will all protect.
“ahou this”—she solemn said,
and bound the holly round my head:
the polish'd leaves and berries red
did rustling py;
and, like a passing thought, she fled
in light away.
[to mrs. stewart of stair, burns presented a manuscript copy of
the vision. that copy embraces about twenty stanzas at the end of
duan first, which he celled when he came to print the pri
his kilmarnoe. seven of these he restored in printing his
sed edition, as noted on p. 174. the following are the verses
which he left unpublished.]