With steady aim, some fortune chase; Then cannie, in some cozie place, They close the day. And others, like your humble servan', To right or left eternal swervin, They zig-zag on; Till, curst with age, obscure an' starvin, Alas! what bitter toil an' straining- E'n let her gang! Beneath what light she has remaining, Let's sing our sang. My pen I here fling to the door, And kneel, ye Pow'rs! and warm implore, 66 In all her climes, Grant me but this, I ask no more, Aye rowth o' rhymes. "Gie dreepin roasts to countra lairds, Till icicles hing frae their beards; Gie fine braw claes to fine life-guards, And maids of honour; An' yill an' whisky gie to cairds, Until they sconner. "A title, Dempster' merits it; A garter gie to Willie Pitt; Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit, In cent. per cent.; 1 George Dempster of Dunnichen, M.P. But give me real, sterling wit, And I'm content. "While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal, Be't water-brose or muslin-kail, Wi' cheerfu' face, As lang's the Muses dinna fail To say the grace." An anxious e'e I never throws As weel's I may; Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose, O ye douce folk that live by rule, How much unlike! Your hearts are just a standing pool, Your lives, a dyke! Nae hair-brain'd, sentimental traces Ye never stray; But gravissimo, solemn basses Ye hum away. Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye're wise; Nae ferly tho' ye do despise The hairum-scairum, ram-stam boys, The rattling squad: I see ye upward cast your eyes— Ye ken the road! Whilst I-but I shall haud me there, Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair, Content wi' you to mak a pair. Whare'er I gang. THE VISION Duan First' THE sun had clos'd the winter day, While faithless snaws ilk step betray The lee-lang day had tirèd me; And when the day had clos'd his e'e, Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie, There, lanely by the ingle-check, All in this mottie, misty clime, But stringing blethers up in rhyme, For fools to sing. 1 Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. 2 of M'Pherson's translation.-R. B. HC VỊ Had I to guid advice but harkit, While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit. I started, mutt'ring "blockhead! coof!" 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; When sweet, like honest Worth, she blusht, Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs By that same token; And come to stop those reckless vows, 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. L Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, An' such a leg! my bonie Jean Could only peer it; Sae straught, sae taper, tight an' clean- Her mantle large, of greenish hue, My gazing wonder chiefly drew: Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw 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: There, distant shone Art's lofty boast, Here, Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods; 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; 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; 1 The seven stanzas following this were first printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1787. Other stanzas, never published by Burns himself, are given on p. 188, |