THE VISION. DUAN FIRST. THE sun had clos'd the winter day, While faithless snaws ilk step betray 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, The auld clay biggin'; An' heard the restless rattons squeak About the riggin'. * Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive pocm. See his "Cath-Loda," vol. ii. of M'Pherson's translation. All in this mottie, misty clime, I backward mus'd on wasted time, How I had spent my youthfu' prime, But stringin' blethers up in rhyme, Had I to guid advice but harkit, My cash-account: While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit, Is a' th' amount. I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof! Or some rash aith, That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof 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; When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht, Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs By that same token; An' come to stop those reckless vows, Wou'd soon been broken. A "hair-brain'd, sentimental trace" 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, 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 tost: There, distant shone Art's lofty boast, 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; 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, Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare, My heart did glowing transport feel, To see a race heroic wheel, And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel While back-recoiling seem'd to reel Their suthron foes. His Country's Saviour,† mark him well! The chief on Sark§ who glorious fell, In high command; And he whom ruthless fates expel *The Wallaces. His native land. + William Wallace. Adam Wallace, of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish independence. § Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was second in command, under Douglas, Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of Sark, fought Anno 1448. The glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gallant Laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action. |