To

ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.,

OF FINTRAY.

ON RECEIVING A FAVOUR.

[Graham of Fintray not only obtained for the poet the appointment in Excise, which, while he lived in Edinburgh, he desired, but he also removed him, as he wished, to a better district; and when imputations were thrown out against his loyalty, he defended him with obstinate and successful eloquence. Fintray did all that was done to raise Burns out of the toiling humility of his condition, and enable him to serve the muse without fear of want.]

I call no goddess to inspire my strains, A fabled muse may suit a bard that feigns; Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns, And all the tribute of my heart returns, For boons accorded, goodness ever new, The gift still dearer, as the giver, you.

Thou orb of day! thou other paler light! And all ye many sparkling stars of night; If aught that giver from my mind efface; If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace; Then roll to me, along your wandering spheres, Only to number out a villain's years!

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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.

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CXXX.