"When yellow waves the heavy grain,

The threatening storm some strongly rein;
Some teach to meliorate the plain,
With tillage skill;

And some instruct the shepherd-train,
Blithe o'er the hill.

"Some hint the lover's harmless wile;
Some grace the maiden's artless smile;
Some soothe the labourer's weary toil,
For humble gains,

And make his cottage-scenes beguile
His cares and pains.

"Some, bounded to a district-space,
Explore at large man's infant race,
To mark the embryotic trace
Of rustic bard;

And careful note each opening grace,
A guide and guard.

"Of these am I Coila my name;1 And this district as mine I claim,

Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,

1 The idea of this visionary being is acknowledged by Burns himself to have been taken from the Scota of Mr. Alexander Ross, a Mearns poet, author of a pastoral of some merit, entitled The Fortunate Shepherdess.

2 The Loudoun branch of the Campbells is here meant. Mossgiel and much of the neighboring ground was the property of the Earl of Loudoun.

Held ruling power:

I marked thy embryo tuneful flame,
Thy natal hour.

"With future hope, I oft would gaze,
Fond, on thy little early ways,
Thy rudely-caroled, chiming phrase,
In uncouth rhymes,

Fired at the simple, artless lays
Of other times.

"I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or when the north his fleecy store
Drove through the sky,

I saw grim Nature's visage hoar
Struck thy young eye.

"Or when the deep green-mantled earth Warm cherished every floweret's birth, And joy and music pouring forth

In every grove,

I saw thee eye the general mirth
With boundless love.

"When ripened fields, and azure skies,
Called forth the reaper's rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their evening joys,
And lonely stalk,

To vent thy bosom's swelling rise
In pensive walk.

"When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong,
Keen shivering shot thy nerves along,
Those accents, grateful to thy tongue,
Th' adored Name,

I taught thee how to pour in song,
To soothe thy flame.

"I saw thy pulse's maddening play,
Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way,
Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray,
By passion driven;

But yet the light that led astray
Was light from Heaven.

"I taught thy manners painting strains,
The loves, the wants of simple swains,
Till now, o'er all my wide domains
Thy fame extends s;

And some, the pride of Coila's plains,
Become thy friends.

"Thou canst not learn, nor can I shew, To paint with Thomson's landscape glow; Or wake the bosom-melting throe,

With Shenstone's art;

Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow
Warm on the heart.

"Yet, all beneath the unrivalled rose, The lowly daisy sweetly blows;

Though large the forest's monarch throws

His army shade,

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows
Adown the glade.

"Then never murmur nor repine;
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
And, trust me, not Potosi's mine,
Nor king's regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,
A rustic bard.

"To give my counsels all in one Thy tuneful flame still careful fan; Preserve the dignity of man,

With soul erect;

And trust, the universal plan
Will all protect.

"And wear thou this," she solemn said,
And bound the holly round my head:
The polished leaves, and berries red,
Did rustling play;

And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.1

1 Certain stanzas omitted by Burns from the printed copy of The Vision, will be found in an Appendix at the end of this volume. A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, October 1852, expresses his opinion that Burns was indebted for the idea of The Vision to a copy of verses written by the "melan

--

A WINTER NIGHT.

"Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of the pitiless storm!
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these?"-SHAKSPEARE.

The Vision leaves the poet reassured and comforted in the all-sufficing grace of the Muse; but no such feel

choly and pensive Wollaston," so far back as 1681. "Wollaston's poem was written on the occasion of his leaving, 'with a heavy heart,' as he says, his beloved Cambridge." He describes himself as sitting in his own "small apartment."

"As here one day I sate,

Disposed to ruminate,

Deep melancholy did benumb,

With thoughts of what was past and what to come.

"I thought I saw my Muse appear,

Whose dress declared her haste, whose looks her fear;

A wreath of laurel in her hand she bore,

Such laurel as the god Apollo wore.

The piercing wind had backward combed her hair,

And laid a paint of red upon the fair;

Her gown, which, with celestial color dyed,
Was with a golden girdle tied,

Through speed a little flowed aside,

And decently disclosed her knee;

When, stopping suddenly, she spoke to me:
'What indigested thought, or rash advice,
Has caused thee to apostatize?