味 THE VISION. DUAN FI R S T. * T HE fun had clof'd the winter-day, The Curlers quat their roaring play, And hunger'd Maukin taen her way To kail-yards green, While faithless fnaws ilk ftep betray Whare fhe has been. The Thresher's weary flingin-tree, The lee-lang day had tir'd me; * Duan, a term of Offian's for the different divifions of a digreffive Poem. See his Cath-Loda, Vol. 2. of M'Pherson's Tranflation. And when the Day had clof'd his e'e, Far i' the Weft, Ben i' the Spence, right penfivelie, I gaed to reft. There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, I fat and ey'd the fpewing reek, That fill'd, wi' hoaft-provoking fmeek, The auld, clay biggin ; And heard the reftlefs rattons fqueak About the riggin. All in this mottie, mifty clime, How I had spent my youthfu' prime, An' done nae-thing, But ftringing blethers up in rhyme For fools to fing. Had I to guid advice but harket, I might, by this, hae led a market, Or ftrutted in a Bank and clarket My Cafb-Account; While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-farket, Is a' th' amount. I started, mutt'ring blockhead! coof! And heav'd on high my wauket loof, To fwear by a' yon starry roof, Or fome rash aith, That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof When click! the ftring the fnick did draw; And jee! the door gaed to the wa'; And by my ingle-lowe I saw, Now bleezan bright, A tight, outlandish Hizzie, braw, Come full in fight. Ye need na doubt, I held my whifht; The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht; I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht, In fome wild glen; When sweet, like modeft Worth, she blusht, And stepped ben. L Green, flender, leaf-clad Holly-boughs Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows, I took her for fome SCOTTISH MUSE, By that fame token; And come to stop those reckless vows, Would foon been broken. A "hare-brain'd, fentimental trace" Was ftrongly marked in her face; A wildly-witty, ruftic grace And fuch a leg! my BESS, I ween, Could only peer it; Sae ftraught, fae taper, tight and cle Nane elfe Her Mantle large, of My gazing wonder chi Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw A luftre grand; And feem'd, to my astonish'd view, A well-known Land. Here, rivers in the sea were loft ; There, mountains to the skies were toft: Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast, With furging foam; 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 AIRE ftaw thro' his woods, On to the fhore; And many a leffer torrent fcuds, With feeming roar. Low, in a fandy valley spread, An ancient BOROUGH rear'd her head; Still, as in Scottish Story read, She boasts a Race, |