THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST.*

THE sun had closed the winter day,
The curlerst quat their roaring play,
And hunger'd maukin ta'en her way
To kail-yards green,

While faithless snaws ilk step betray
Whare she has been.

The thrasher's weary flingin' tree
The lee-lang day had tirèd me;
And when the day had closed his ee,
Far i' the west,

Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,
I gaed to rest.

There, lanely by the ingle-cheek,
I sat and eyed the spewing reek,
That filled wi' hoast-provoking smeek
The auld clay biggin';

And heard the restless rattons squeak
About the riggin'.

All in this mottie, misty clime,
I backward mused on wasted time,
How I had spent my youthfu' prime,
And 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, and clarkit

My cash-account:

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

quit

hare cabbage

snows, each

flail

live-long

eye

inner-room went

lonely, fireside smoke cough, smoke

house

rats

full of motes

nonsense

hearkened

ere

clerked

shirted

When, click! the string the snick did draw;

And, jee! the door gaed to the wa';

And by my ingle-lowe I saw,

Now bleezin' bright.

A tight, outlandish hizzie, braw,

Come full in sight.

latch

went

fire-flame

blazing

woman

Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his "Cath-Loda," vol. ii. of M Pherson's translation.--B.

A game on the ice nearly resembling bowls; large stones, smooth on the bottom, are hurled along the ice instead of bowls.

Ye needna doubt I held my whist;
The infant aith, half-formed was crusht;
I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht

In some wild glen;

tongue

stared, struck down

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 Scottish Muse,
By that same token,

And come to stop those reckless vows,
Would soon been broken.

A "hairbrained, sentimental trace"
Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildly-witty, rustic grace

Shone full upon her;

Her eye, even turned on empty space,
Beam'd keen with honour.

Down flowed her robe, a tartan sheen,
Till half a leg was scrimply seen;

And such a leg! my bonny Jean

Could only peer it;

Sae straught, sae taper, tight and clean,
Nane else cam near it.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue,

My gazing wonder chiefly drew;

Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw

A lustre grand;

And seemed to my astonished view

A well-known land.

Here Doon pour'd down his far-fetched floods;

There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds:

Auld hermit Ayr staw through his woods,

On to the shore,

And many a lesser torrent scuds

With seeming roar.

Low in a sandy valley spread,

An ancient borough reared her head;

Still, as in Scottish story read,

She boasts a race,

To every nobler virtue bred,

And polished grace.

By stately tower or palace fair,
Or ruins pendant in the air,

in

straight, neat

none

Bounds

stole

runs quickly

(Ayr)

Bold stems of heroes, here and there,

I could discern;

Some seemed to muse, some seemed 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 seemed to reel
Their suthron foes.

His country's saviour, mark him well!
Bold Richardton's herioc swell;
The chief on Sark who glorious fell
In high command;

And he whom ruthless fates expel
His native land.

There, where a sceptered Pictish shade*
Stalked round his ashes lowly laid,
I mark'd a martial race, portrayed
In colours strong;

Bold, soldier-featured, undismayed
They strode along.

Through 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,t
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 called on Fame, low standing by,

To hand him on,

Where many a patriot-name on high,
And hero shone.

DUAN SECOND.

With musing-deep, astonished stare,
I viewed the heavenly-seeming fair;
A whispering throb did witness bear
Of kindred sweet,

(the Wallaces)

southern

(Wm. Wallace)

(Wallace of Craigie)

(the Montgomeries)

(Barskimming)

(Col. Fullerton)

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 Coilsfield, where his burial-place is still shown.-B.

The Rev. Dr Matthew Stewart, the celebrated mathematician, and his son, Professor Dugald Stewart.

When with an elder sister's air
She did me greet,

"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 Scotia's race among them share;
Some fire the soldier on to dare;
Some rouse the patriot up to bear
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 hand.

"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.

"Henco 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 assigned
The humbler ranks of humankind,
The rustic bard, the labouring hind,
The artizan;

All choose, as various they're inclined,
The various man.

"When yellow waves the heavy grain,
The threatening storm some, strongly, rein;
Some teach to meliorate the plain,

With tillage skill;

And some instruct the shepherd-train,

Blithe o'er the hill.

"Some hint the lover's harmless wile;
Some grace the maiden's artless smile;
Some soothe the labourer's weary toil,
For humble gains,
And make his cottage-scenes beguile
His cares and pains.

"Some, bounded to a district-space,
Explore at large 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-Coila my name;
And this district as mine I claim,
Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,
Held ruling power:

I marked thy embryo tuneful flame,
Thy natal hour.

"With future hope, I oft would gaze,
Fond, on thy little early ways,
Thy rudely-carrolled, chiming phrase,
In uncouth rhymes,
Fired at the simple, artless lays,
Of other times.

"I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or when the north his fleecy store
Drove through the sky,
I saw grim Nature's visage hoar
Struck thy young eye.

"Or when the deep green-mantled earth
Warm cherished every floweret's birth,
And joy and music pouring forth
In every grove,

I saw thee eye the general mirth
With boundless love.

"When ripened fields, and azure skies,
Called forth the reaper's rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their evening 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 accents, grateful to thy tongue,
Th' adored Name,

I taught thee how to pour in song,
To soothe thy flame.

"I saw thy pulse's maddening play,
Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way,