THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST.+

THE sun had clos'd the winter day,
The curlers quat their roaring play,
An' 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-lang day had tir'd me;
And when the day had clos'd his e'e

Far i' the west,

Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,

1 gaed to rest.

There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek,
I sat and ey'd the spewing reek,
That fill'd wi' hoast-provoking smeek

The auld clay biggin ;

An' heard the restless rattons squeak

About the riggin.

All in this mottie misty clime,

I backward mus'd on wasted time,

How 1 had spent my youthfu' prime,

An' done nae-thing,

But stringin 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 an' clarkit

My cash-account:

While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit,
Is a' th' amount.

I started, muttering, blockhead! coof!
And heav'd on high my waukit loof,

+ Duan is a term in Ossian for the different divisions of a di gressive poem. See his Bath-Loda, vol. ii. of McPherson's trans lation.

To swear by a' yon starry roof,

Or some rash aith,
That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof
Till my last breath-

When click! the string the snick did draw;
And jee! the door gaed to the wa',

An' by my ingle-lowe I saw,

Now bleezin bright,

A tight outlandish hizzie, braw,

Come full in sight.

Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht;
The infant aith, half-form'd, was crush't;
I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht

In some wild glen;

When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht,
And stepped ben.

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs
Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows,
I took her for some Scotish Muse,

By that same token;

An' come to stop those reckless vows,

Wou'd soon been broken,

Ahair-brain'd sentimental trace'
Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildy-witty rustic grace

Shone full upon her;

Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space,

Beam'd keen with honour.

Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen,
Till half a leg was scrimply seen;

And such a leg; my bonnie Jean

Could only peer it;

Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and clean,

Nane else came near it.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue,

My gazing wonder chiefly drew;

Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threv

A lustre grand;

And seem'd, to my astonish'd view,

A well-known land.

Here, rivers in the sea were lost;
There, mountains to the skies were tost;
Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast,
With surging foam;

There, distant shone art's lofty boast,

The lordly dome.

Here, Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods;
There, well-fed Irwine stately 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 ancient borough rear'd her head:
Still, as in Scotish story read,

She boasts a race,

To every nobler virtue bred,

And polish'd grace.

By stately tow'r or palace fair,

Or ruins pendant in the air,

Bold stems of heroes, here and there,

I could discern:

Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare,

With feature stern.

My heart did glowing transports feel,
To see a race* heroic wheel,

And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel
In sturdy blows;

While back recoiling seem'd to reel

Their suthron foes.

His Country's Saviour,+ mark him well!
Bold Richardton's ‡ beroic swell;
The chief on Sark who glorious fell,

And he whom ruthless fates expel

The Wallaces.

In high command;

His native land.

+ William Wallace.

Adam Wallace, of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scotish independence.

Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was second in command un

There, where a sceptred Pictish shade*
Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid,
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-fancy'd cove,
(Fit haunts for friendship or for love,

In musing mood)

An aged Judge, I saw him rove,

Dispensing good.

With deep-struck reverential awet,
The learned sire and son I saw,
To Nature's GoD and Nature's law

They gave their lore,

This, all its source and end to draw,

That, to adore.

Brydone's brave ward§ I well could spy,
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye;
Who call'd on Fame, low standing by,

To hand him on,

Where many a patriot's name on high

And hero shone.

DUAN SECOND.

With musing-deep astonish'd stare,
I view'd the heav'nly-seeming Fair;
A whisp'ring throb did witness bear

Of kindred sweet,

When with an elder sister's air

She did me greet:

der Douglas, Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of Sark. fought anno 1448. That glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gal. lant Laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action.

Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle is said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family seat of the Montgomeries of Coil's-field, where his burial place is still shown.

+ Barskimming, the seat of the Lord Justice Clerk.

Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor, and present Professor Stewart.

Colonel Fullarton.

'All-hail! my own-inspired bard!
In me thy native muse regard !
Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,

Thus poorly low!

I come to give thee such reward

As we bestow.

Know the great genius of this land Has many a light aërial band,

Who, all beneath his high command,

Harmoniously,

As arts or arms they understand,

Their labours ply.

They Scovia'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 honest patriot lore,

And grace the land.

And when the bard, or hoary sage, Charm or instruct the future age, They bind the wild poetic rage

In energy,

Or point the inconclusive page

Full on the eye.

Hence Fullarton, the brave and young; Hence Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue; Hence, sweet harmonious Beattie sung

His Minstrel-lays;

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 labouring hind,