* celled equally as in that of a humorous kind, and, using less of the Scottish dialect in his serious poems, he becomes more generally intelligible. It is difficult to decide whether the Address to a Mouse whose nest was turned up with the plough, should be considered as serious or comic. Be this as it may, the poem is one of the happiest and most finished of his productions. If we smile at the "bickering brattle" of this little flying animal, it is a smile of tenderness and pity. The descriptive part is admirable: the moral reflections beautiful, and arising directly out of the occasion; and in the conclusion there is a deep melancholy, a sentiment of doubt and dread, that arises to the sublime. The Address to a Mountain Daisy, turned down with the plough, † is a poem of the same nature, though somewhat inferior in point of originality, as well as in the interest produced. To extract out of incidents so common, and seemingly so trivial as these, so fine a train of sentiment and imagery, is the surest proof, as well as the most brilliant triumph, of original genius. The Vision, in two cantos, from which a beautiful extract is taken by Mr Mackenzie, in the 97th number of the Lounger, is a poem of great and various excellence. The opening, in which the poet describes his own state of mind, retiring in the evening, wearied, from the labours of the day, to moralize on his conduct and prospects, is truly interesting. The chamber, if we may so term it, in which he sits down to muse, is an exquisite painting; "There, lanely, by the ingle cheek, To To reconcile to our imagination the entrance of an aerial being into a mansion of this kind, required the powers of Burns-he, however, succeeds. Coila enters, and her countenance, attitude, and dress, unlike those of other spiritual beings, are distinctly portrayed. the painting on her mantle, on which is depicted the most striking scenery, as well as the most distinguished characters, of his native country, some exceptions may be made. The mantle of Coila, like the cup of Thyrsis, and the shield of Achilles, is too much crowded with figures, and some of the objects represented upon it are scarcely admissible, according to the principles of design. The generous temperament of Burns led him into these exuberances. In his second edition he en larged the number of figures originally introduced, that he might include objects to which he was attached by sentiments of affection, gratitude, or patriotism. The second Duan, * Page 117. Page 126. See the first Idyllium of Theocritus. or canto of this poem, in which Coila describes her own nature and occupations, particularly her superintendance of his infant genius, and in which she reconciles him to the character of a bard, is an elevated and solemn strain of poetry, ranking in all respects, excepting the harmony of numbers, with the higher productions of the English muse. The concluding stanza, compared with that already quoted, will show to what a height Burns rises in this poem, from the point at which he set out :— "And wear thou this-she solemn said, And bound the holly round my head; The polish'd leaves, and berries red, Did rustling play; And, like a passing thought, she fled In light away." In various poems Burns has exhibited the picture of a mind under the deep impressions of real sorrow. The Lament, the Ode to Ruin, Despondency, and Winter, a Dirge, are of this character. In the first of these poems the eighth stanza, which describes a sleepless night from anguish of mind, is particularly striking. Burns often indulged in those melancholy views of the nature and condition of man, which are so congenial to the temperament of sensibility. The poem entitled Man was made to Mourn, affords an instance of this kind, and The Winter Night" is of the same description. The last is highly characteristic, both of the temper of mind, and of the condition of Burns. It begins with a description of a dreadful storm on a night in winter. The poet represents himself as lying in bed, and listening to its howling. In this situation, he naturally turns his thoughts to the ourier Cattle, and the silly Sheep, exposed to all the violence of the tem pest. Having lamented their fate, he proceeds in the following: "Ilk happing bird-wee helpless thing! That in the merry months o' spring, Delighted me to hear thee sing, What comes o' thee? Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, An' close thy e'e?" Other reflections of the same nature occur to his mind; and as the midnight moon, "muffled with clouds," casts her dreary light on his window, thoughts of a darker and more melancholy nature crowd upon him. In this state of mind, he hears a voice pouring through the gloom, a solemn and plaintive strain of reflection. The mourner compares the fury of the elements with that of man to his brother man, and finds the former light in the balance. * See p. 117. Ourie, out-lying. Ourie Cattle, Cattle that are un housed all winter. Silly is in this, as in other places, a term of compas. sion and endearment. "See stern Oppression's iron grip, Or mad Ambition's gory hand, He pursues this train of reflection through a variety of particulars, in the course of which he introduces the following auimated apostrophe: O ye! who sunk in beds of down, The strain of sentiment which runs through this poem is noble, though the execution is unequal, and the versification is defective. Among the serious poems of Burns, The Cotter's Saturday Night is perhaps entitled to the first rank. The Farmer's Ingle of Fergusson evidently suggested the plan of this poem, as has been already mentioned; but after the plan was formed, Burns trusted entirely to his own powers for the execution. Fergusson's poem is certainly very beautiful. It has all the charms which depend on rural characters and manners happily portrayed, and exhibited under circumstances highly grateful to the imagination. The Farmer's Ingle begins with describing the return of evening. The toils of the day are over, and the farmer retires to his comfortable fire-side. The reception which he and his men-servants receive from the careful house-wife, is pleasingly described. After their supper is over, they begin to talk on the rural events of the day. "'Bout kirk and market eke their tales gae on, The "Guidame" is next introduced as forming a circle round the fire, in the midst of her grand-children, and while she spins from the rock, and the spindle plays on her "russet lap," she is relating to the young ones tales of witches and ghosts. The poet exclaims, “O mock nathis my friends! but rather mourn, Ye in life's brawest spring wi' reason clear, Wi' eild cur idle fancies a' return, And din our dolefu' days wi' bairnly fear; The mind's aye cradl'd when the grave is near.' In the meantime the farmer, wearied with the fatigues of the day, stretches himself at length on the settle, a sort of rustic couch, which extends on one side of the fire, and the cat and house-dog leap upon it to receive his caresses. Here, resting at his ease, he gives his directions to his men-servants for the succeeding day. The house-wife follows his example, and gives her orders to the maidens. By degrees the oil in the cruise begins to fail; the fire runs low; sleep steals on his rustic group; and they move concludes by bestowing his blessing on the off to enjoy their peaceful slumbers. The poet "husbandman and all his tribe." This is an original and truly interesting pastoral. It possesses every thing required in this species of composition. We might have perhaps said, every thing that it admits, had not Burns written his Cotter's Saturday Night. The The cottager returning from his labours, has no servants to accompany him, to partake of his fare, or to receive his instructions. circle which he joins, is composed of his wife and children only; and if it admits of less variety, it affords an opportunity for representing scenes that more strongly interest the affections. The younger children running to meet him, and clambering round his knee; the elder, returning from their weekly labours with the neighbouring farmers, dutifully depositing their little gains with their parents, and receiving their father's blessing and instructions; the incidents of the courtship of Jenny, their eldest daughter, "woman grown," are circumstances of the most interesting kind, which are most happily delineated; and after their frugal supper, the representation of these humbler cottag ers forming a wider circle round their hearth, and uniting in the worship of God, is a picture the most deeply affecting of any which the rural muse has ever presented to the view. Burns was admirably adapted to this delineation. Like all men of genius he was of the tempera. ment of devotion, and the powers of memory co-operated in this instance with the sensibility of his heart, and the fervour of his imagination." The Cotter's Saturday Night is tender and moral, it is solemn and devotional, and rises at length in a strain of grandeur and sublimity, which modern poetry has not surpassed. The noble sentiments of patriotism with which it concludes, correspond with the rest of the poem. In no age or country have the pastoral muses breathed such elevated accents, if the Messiah of Pope be excepted, which is indeed that Burns did not employ his genius on other a pastoral in form only. It is to be regretted subjects of the same nature, which the manners and customs of the Scottish peasantry would have amply supplied. Such poetry is not to it bestows; it sinks deeply into the heart, and be estimated by the degree of pleasure which is calculated, far beyond any other human means, for giving permanence to the scenes. and the characters it so exquisitely describes. • The reader will recollect that the Cotter was Burns's father. See p. xxxİX. A great number of manuscript poems were found among the papers of Burns, addressed to him by admirers of his genius, from different parts of Britain, as well as from Ireland and Amer.ca. Among these was a poe. merit. It was written in the dialect of Scotland (of tical epistle from Mr Telford, of Shrewsbury, of superior which country Mr Telford is a native,) and in the ver celled equally as in that of a humorous kind, and, using less of the Scottish dialect in his serious poems, he becomes more generally intelligible. It is difficult to decide whether the Address to a Mouse whose nest was turned up with the plough,* should be considered as serious or comic. Be this as it may, the poem is one of the happiest and most finished of his productions. If we smile at the "bickering brattle" of this little flying animal, it is a smile of tenderness and pity. The descriptive part is admirable: the moral reflections beautiful, and arising directly out of the occasion; and in the conclusion there is a deep melancholy, a sentiment of doubt and dread, that arises to the sublime. The Address to a Mountain Daisy, turned down with the plough, † is a poem of the same nature, though somewhat inferior in point of originality, as well as in the interest produced. To extract out of incidents so common, and seemingly so trivial as these, so fine a train of sentiment and imagery, is the surest proof, as well as the most brilliant triumph, of original genius. The Vision, in two cantos, from which a beautiful extract is taken by Mr Mackenzie, in the 97th number of the Lounger, is a poem of great and various excellence. The opening, in which the poet describes his own state of mind, retiring in the evening, wearied, from the labours of the day, to moralize on his conduct and prospects, is truly interesting. The chamber, if we may so term it, in which he sits down to muse, is an exquisite painting: "There, lanely, by the ingle cheek, To reconcile to our imagination the entrance of an aerial being into a mansion of this kind, required the powers of Burns-he, however, succeeds. Coila enters, and her countenance, attitude, and dress, unlike those of other spiritual beings, are distinctly portrayed. To the painting on her mantle, on which is depicted the most striking scenery, as well as the most distinguished characters, of his native country, some exceptions may be made. The mantle of Coila, like the cup of Thyrsis, and the shield of Achilles, is too much crowded with figures, and some of the objects represented upon it are scarcely admissible, according to the principles of design. The generous temperament of Burns led him into these exuberances. In his second edition he enlarged the number of figures originally introduced, that he might include objects to which he was attached by sentiments of affection, gratitude, or patriotism. The second Duan, * Page 117. + Page 126. See the first Idyllium of Theocritus. or canto of this poem, in which Coila describes her own nature and occupations, particularly her superintendance of his infant genius, and in which she reconciles him to the character of a bard, is an elevated and solemn strain of poetry, ranking in all respects, excepting_the harmony of numbers, with the higher productions of the English muse. The concluding stanza, compared with that already quoted, will show to what a height Burns rises in this poem, from the point at which he set out :— "And wear thou this-she solemn said, And bound the holly round my head; The polish'd leaves, and berries red, Did rustling play; And, like a passing thought, she fled In light away." In various poems Burns has exhibited the picture of a mind under the deep impressions of real sorrow. The Lament, the Ode to Ruin, Despondency, and Winter, a Dirge, are of this character. In the first of these poems the eighth stanza, which describes a sleepless night from anguish of mind, is particularly striking. Burns often indulged in those melancholy views of the nature and condition of man, which are so congenial to the temperament of sensibility. The poem entitled Man was made to Mourn, affords an instance of this kind, and The Winter Night" is of the same description. The last is highly characteristic, both of the temper of mind, and of the condition of Burns. It begins with a description of a dreadful storm on a night in winter. The poet represents himself as lying in bed, and listening to its howling. In this situation, he naturally turns his thoughts to the ourie Cattle, and the silly Sheep, exposed to all the violence of the tempest. Having lamented their fate, he proceeds in the following: "See stern Oppression's iron grip, Or mad Ambition's gory hand, He pursues this train of reflection through a variety of particulars, in the course of which he introduces the following animated apostrophe : O ye! who sunk in beds of down, Feel not a want but what yourselves create, The strain of sentiment which runs through this poem is noble, though the execution is unequal, and the versification is defective. Among the serious poems of Burns, The Cotter's Saturday Night is perhaps entitled to the first rank. The Furmer's Ingle of Fergusson evidently suggested the plan of this poem, as has been already mentioned; but after the plan was formed, Burns trusted entirely to his own powers for the execution. Fergusson's poem is certainly very beautiful. It has all the charms which depend on rural characters and manners happily portrayed, and exhibited under circumstances highly grateful to the imagination. The Farmer's Ingle begins with describing the return of evening. The toils of the day are over, and the farmer retires to his comfortable fire-side. The reception which he and his men-servants receive from the careful house-wife, is pleasingly described. After their supper is over, they begin to talk on the rural events of the day. "'Bout kirk and market eke their tales gae on, The "Guidame” is next introduced as forming a circle round the fire, in the midst of her grand-children, and while she spins from the rock, and the spindle plays on her "russet lap," she is relating to the young ones tales of witches and ghosts. The poet exclaims, "O mock nathis my friends! but rather mourn, Ye in life's brawest spring wi' reason clear, Wi' eild cur idle fancies a' return, And din our dolefu' days wi' bairnly fear; The mind's aye cradl'd when the grave is near. دو In the meantime the farmer, wearied with the fatigues of the day, stretches himself at length on the settle, a sort of rustic couch, which extends on one side of the fire, and the cat and house-dog leap upon it to receive his caresses. Here, resting at his ease, he gives his directions to his men-servants for the succeeding day. The house-wife follows his example, and gives her orders to the maidens. By degrees the oil in the cruise begins to fail; the fire runs low; sleep steals on his rustic group; and they move concludes by bestowing his blessing on the off to enjoy their peaceful slumbers. The poet "husbandman and all his tribe." This is an original and truly interesting pastoral. It possesses every thing required in this species of composition. We might have perhaps said, every thing that it admits, had not Burns written his Cutter's Saturday Night. The The cottager returning from his labours, has no servants to accompany him, to partake of his fare, or to receive his instructions. circle which he joins, is composed of his wife and children only; and if it admits of less variety, it affords an opportunity for representing scenes that more strongly interest the affections. The younger children running to meet him, and clambering round his knee; the elder, returning from their weekly labours with the neighbouring farmers, dutifully depositing their little gains with their parents, and receiving their father's blessing and instructions; the incidents of the courtship of Jenny, their eldest daughter, "woman grown," are circumstances of the most interesting kind, which are most happily delineated; and after their frugal supper, the representa ion of these humbler cottag ers forming a wider circle round their hearth, and uniting in the worship of God, is a picture the most deeply affecting of any which the rural muse has ever presented to the view. Burns was admirably adapted to this delineation. Like all men of genius he was of the temperament of devotion, and the powers of memory co-operated in this instance with the sensibility of his heart, and the fervour of his imagination. The Cotter's Saturday Night is tender and moral, it is solemn and devotional, and rises at length in a strain of grandeur and sublimity, which modern poetry has not surpassed. The noble sentiments of patriotism with which it concludes, correspond with the rest of the poem. In no age or country have the pastoral Messiah of Pope be excepted, which is indeed muses breathed such elevated accents, if the that Burns did not employ his genius on other a pastoral in form only. It is to be regretted subjects of the same nature, which the manners and customs of the Scottish peasantry would have amply supplied. Such poetry is not to be estimated by the degree of pleasure which it bestows; it sinks deeply into the heart, and is calculated, far beyond any other human means, for giving permanence to the scenes. and the characters it so exquisitely describes.t • The reader will recollect that the Cotter was Burns's father. See p. xxxix. + A great number of manuscript poems were found among the papers of Burns, addressed to him by admirers of his genius, from different parts of Britain, as well as from Ireland and Amer.ca. Among these was a poe tical epistle from Mr Telford, of Shrewsbury, of superior merit. It was written in the dialect of Scotland (of which country Mr Telford is a native,) and in the ver xc Before we conclude, it will be proper to offer a few observations on the lyric productions of Burns. His compositions of this kind are chiefly songs, generally in the Scottish dialect, sification generally employed by our poet himself. Its object is to recommend to him other subjects of a serious nature similar to that of the Cotter's Saturday Night; and the reader will find that the advice is happily enforced by example. It would have given the editor pleasure to have inserted the whole of this poem, which he hopes will one day see the light; he is happy to have obtained, in the mean time, his friend Mr Telford's permission to insert the following extracts: Pursue, O Burns, thy happy style, "Those manner-painting strains," that while When tender joys, with pleasing smile, I see my fond companions rise, No distant Swiss with warmer glow, O happy Bard! thy gen'rous flame, But mony a theme awaits thy muse, How with religious awe imprest, The symbols of eternal rest Devout to share. How down ilk lang withdrawing hill, How placed along the sacred board, And faith, and hope, and joy afford, O'er this, with warm seraphic glow, And mark amid such scenes below, Their future peers. The banks of the Esk in Dumfries-shire, are here alluded to. t A beautiful little mount which stands immediately before, or rather forms a part of Shrewsbury castle, a seat of Sir William Pulteney, Bart. The Sacrament, generally administered in the country parishes of Scotland in the open air. and always after the model of the Scottish songs, on the general character and moral influence of which, some observations have already been offered. We may hazard a few more particular remarks. O mark the awful solemn scene!* When hoary winter clothes the plain, Along the snowy hills is seen Approaching slow, In mourning weeds, the village train, In silent woe. Some much-respected brother's bier, And when they pass the rocky howe, The kirkyard trees are seen to grow, By th' water brae. Assembled round the narrow grave, While o'er them wintry ter pests rave, In the cold wind their grey locks wave, As low they lay Their brother's body 'mongst the lave of parent clay. Expressive looks from each declare |