The Complete Works of Robert Burns Part 65

CXXIX.

A VISION.

[This Vision of Liberty descended on Burns among the magnificent ruins of the College of Lincluden, which stand on the junction of the Cluden and the Nith, a short mile above Dumfries. He gave us the Vision; perhaps, he dared not in those yeasty times venture on the song, which his secret visitant poured from her lips. The scene is chiefly copied from nature: the swellings of the Nith, the howling of the fox on the hill, and the cry of the owl, unite at times with the natural beauty of the spot, and give it life and voice. These ruins were a favourite haunt of the poet.]

As I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air, Where th' howlet mourns in her ivy bower And tells the midnight moon her care;

The winds were laid, the air was still, The Stars they shot along the sky; The fox was howling on the hill, And the distant echoing glens reply.

The stream, adown its hazelly path, Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,[109A]

Whose distant roaring swells and fa's.

The cauld blue north was streaming forth Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din; Athort the lift they start and shift, Like fortune's favours, tint as win.

By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes, And, by the moon-beam, shook to see A stern and stalwart ghaist arise, Attir'd as minstrels wont to be.[109B]

Had I a statue been o' stane, His darin' look had daunted me; And on his bonnet grav'd was plain, The sacred posy--'Libertie!'

And frae his harp sic strains did flow, Might rous'd the slumb'ring dead to hear; But, oh! it was a tale of woe, As ever met a Briton's ear.

He sang wi' joy the former day, He weeping wail'd his latter times; But what he said it was nae play,-- I winna ventur't in my rhymes.

[Footnote 109A: VARIATIONS.

To join yon river on the Strath.]

[Footnote 109B: VARIATIONS.

Now looking over firth and fauld, Her horn the pale-fac'd Cynthia rear'd; When, lo, in form of minstrel auld, A storm and stalwart ghaist appear'd.]

Cx.x.x.

TO

JOHN MAXWELL OF TERRAUGHTY,

ON HIS BIRTHDAY.

[John Maxwell of Terraughty and Munshes, to whom these verses are addressed, though descended from the Earls of Nithsdale, cared little about lineage, and claimed merit only from a judgment sound and clear--a knowledge of business which penetrated into all the concerns of life, and a skill in handling the most difficult subjects, which was considered unrivalled. Under an austere manner, he hid much kindness of heart, and was in a fair way of doing an act of gentleness when giving a refusal. He loved to meet Burns: not that he either cared for or comprehended poetry; but he was pleased with his knowledge of human nature, and with the keen and piercing remarks in which he indulged. He was seventy-one years old when these verses were written, and survived the poet twenty years.]

Health to the Maxwell's vet'ran chief!

Health, ay unsour'd by care or grief: Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sybil leaf This natal morn; I see thy life is stuff o' prief, Scarce quite half worn.

This day thou metes three score eleven, And I can tell that bounteous Heaven (The second sight, ye ken, is given To ilka Poet) On thee a tack o' seven times seven Will yet bestow it.

If envious buckies view wi' sorrow Thy lengthen'd days on this blest morrow, May desolation's lang teeth'd harrow, Nine miles an hour, Rake them like Sodom and Gomorrah, In brunstane stoure--

But for thy friends, and they are mony, Baith honest men and la.s.ses bonnie, May couthie fortune, kind and cannie, In social glee, Wi' mornings blythe and e'enings funny Bless them and thee!

Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye, And then the Deil he daur na steer ye; Your friends ay love, your faes ay fear ye; For me, shame fa' me, If neist my heart I dinna wear ye While BURNS they ca' me!

_Dumfries, 18 Feb. 1792._

Cx.x.xI.

THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.

AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE

ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT,

Nov. 26, 1792.

[Miss Fontenelle was one of the actresses whom Williamson, the manager, brought for several seasons to Dumfries: she was young and pretty, indulged in little levities of speech, and rumour added, perhaps maliciously, levities of action. The Rights of Man had been advocated by Paine, the Rights of Woman by Mary Wolstonecroft, and nought was talked of, but the moral and political regeneration of the world. The line

"But truce with kings and truce with const.i.tutions,"

got an uncivil twist in recitation, from some of the audience. The words were eagerly caught up, and had some hisses bestowed on them.]

While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, The fate of empires and the fall of kings; While quacks of state must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention.

First on the s.e.xes' intermix'd connexion, One sacred Right of Woman is protection.

The tender flower that lifts its head, elate, Helpless, must fall before the blasts of fate, Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form, Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm.

Our second Right--but needless here is caution, To keep that right inviolate's the fashion, Each man of sense has it so full before him, He'd die before he'd wrong it--'tis decorum.-- There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days, A time, when rough, rude man had haughty ways; Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot, Nay, even thus invade a lady's quiet.

Now, thank our stars! these Gothic times are fled; Now, well-bred men--and you are all well-bred-- Most justly think (and we are much the gainers) Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.

For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest, That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest, Which even the Rights of Kings in low prostration Most humbly own--'tis dear, dear admiration!

In that blest sphere alone we live and move; There taste that life of life--immortal love.-- Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs, 'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares-- When awful Beauty joins with all her charms, Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms?

But truce with kings and truce with const.i.tutions, With b.l.o.o.d.y armaments and revolutions, Let majesty your first attention summon, Ah! ca ira! the majesty of woman!