The Vision（1 / 2）

the vision

duan first

the sun had clos'd the winter day,

the curless quat their roarin play,

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-lang 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, 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 i had spent my youthfu' prime,

an' done nae thing,

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 clarkit

my cash-account;

while here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit.

is a' th' amount.

i started, mutt'ring, “blockhead! coof!”

and heav'd on high my waukit loof,

to swear by a' yon starry roof,

or some rash aith,

that i henceforth wad be rhyme-proof

till my last breath—

when click! the string the snick did draw;

an' 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 crusht

i glowr'd as eerie's i'd been dusht

in some wild glen;

when sweet, like honest worth, she blusht,

an' 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 “hair-brain'd, sentimental trace”

was strongly marked in her face;

a wildly-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;

an' such a leg! my bonie jean

could only peer it;

sae straught, sae taper, tight an' clean—

nane else came near it.

her mantle large, 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 land.

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 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 scottish story read,

she boasts a race

to ev'ry nobler virtue bred,

and polish'd grace.

by stately tow'r, or palace fair,

or ruins pendent 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 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 country's saviour, mark him well!

bold richardton's heroic swell;

the chief, on sark who glorious fell,

in high command;

and he whom ruthless fates expel

his native land.

there, where a sceptr'd 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-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 law,

they gave their lore;

this, all its source and end to draw,

that, to adore.

brydon'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-name on high,

and hero shone.

duan second

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!

in me thy native muse regard;