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They footed o'er the wat’ry glass so neat,
'The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet :
While arts of Minstrelsey among them rung,
And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung.
O had M'Lauchlan,* thairn-inspiring sage,
Been there to hear this heavenly band engage,
When through his dear Strathspeys they bore

with Highland rage;
Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs,
The lover's raptur'd joys or bleeding cares;
How would his Highland lug been nobler fir'd,
And ev'en his matchless hand with finer touch in-

spir'd! No guess could tell what instrument appear'd, But all the soul of Music's self was heard; Harmonious concert rung in every part, While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart.

The Genius of the Stream in front appears, A venerable Chief advanc'd in years; His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd, His manly leg with garter-tangle bound. Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring, Sweet female Beauty hand in hand with Spring; Then crown'd with flow'ry hay, came Rural Joy, And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye; All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn wreath'd with nodding corn; Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show, By Hospitality with cloudless brow. Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride, From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide;

* A well known performer of Scottish music on the violin,

Benevolence, with mild, benignant air,
A female form,* came from the tow'rs of Stair;
Learning and worth in equal measures trode
From simple Catrine, their long-lov'd abode;
Last, white-rob'd Peace, crown'd with a hazel
To rustic Agriculture did bequeath [wreath,
The broken iron instruments of Death ;
At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling

wrath.

THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST.

The sun had clos'd the winter day,
The curlers quat their roaring play,
An' hunger'd maukin ta'en her way

To kail-yards green,
While faithless snaws ilk step betray

Whar she has been.

The thresher's weary flingin-tree
The lee-lang day had tired me;

* The Poet here alludes to a Mrs. Stewart, who was then in possession of Stair. She afterwards removed to Afton-lodge on the banks of thé Afton, a stream which she subsequently celebrated in a song entitled, “ Afton Water."--Ed,

| Duan, a term of Ossion's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. ii, nif Macpherson's translation.

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 stringin blethers up in rhyme,

For fools to sing.
Had I to guid advice but harkit,
I might, by thie, 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, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof!
And heav'd on high my waukit loof,
To swear by a' yun starry roof,

Or some rash aith,
That I, henceforth, would be a rhyme proof

Till my last breath When click! the string the sneck 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 crusht;
I glow’rd 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 Scottish Muse,

By that same token;
An' come to stop those reckless vows,

Wou'd soon been broken.

A “hair-brain'd sentimental trace,"
Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildly-witty, rustic grace

Shone tull upon her ;
Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space,

Beain'd keen with Honor.

Down flow'd her robe, a Tartan sheen,
Till half a leg was scrimply seen;
And such a leg! my bonie 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, 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; Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast,

With surging foam; There distant shone Art's lofiy 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’ liis woods,

On to the shore;
And many a lesser torrent scuds,

With seeming roar,
Low, in a sandy valley spread,
An ancient Rorough 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 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 features stern,
My heart did glowing transport 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 Southron foes.

* The Wallaces.

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