"He ne'er was gien to great misguiding, The Muse was a' that he took pride in "Jamaica bodies, use him weel, An' hap him in a cozie biel: He wad na wrang'd the vera deil That's owre the sea." The introduction of Burns to Edinburgh society, and his intercourse with it, were hurtful to the moral growth of his genius. It brought him into a closer contact with life, presenting the inequality of human condition, especially amid aristocratic institutions. His own sense of independence, and of his own intrinsic intellectual worth, was strong enough to make him realize social inequality, but not strong enough to raise him above it to a magnanimous contentment "See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth "If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave, Kindly as a peasant-poet was received in Edinburgh, he detected that often in that kindness there was condescension; and, with a sensibility as tremblingly exquisite as his sense was strong, he suspected, as has been remarked by one of his biographers, "that the professional metaphysicians who applauded his rapturous bursts surveyed them, in reality, with something of the same feeling which attends a skilful surgeon's inspection of a curious specimen of morbid anatomy." "I doubt,” said Burns himself, in a private record, "whether one man may pour out his bosom, his every thought and floating fancy, his very inmost soul, with unreserving confidence, to another, without hazard of losing part of that respect which man deserves from man, or, from the unavoidable imperfections attending human nature, of one day repenting his confidence." Happy would it have been could Burns have held his spirit at the elevation which he reaches in another strain : Happier still would it have been could he have realized one of his purest aspirations : "To make a happy fireside clime For weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life." The question as to the morality of Burns's poetry may be reduced to a simple statement. That he, in his way of life, departed widely from paths which his conscience vainly persuaded him to, in opposition to ungovernable passions, cannot and ought not to be concealed. He never debased himself to a sottish intemperance, but sought convivial excitement, and the worst relief from morbid bodily affections brought on by premature distress. He has uttered a touching appeal for charitable judgments : "Gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang! To step aside is human: One point must still be greatly dark,— The moving why they do it: And just as lamely can ye mark "Who made the heart, 't is He alone He knows each chord-its various tone, Each spring-its various bias: Then at the balance let 's be mute; We never can adjust it: What 's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted." His poetry has been charged-falsely, it seems to me—with a contempt or affectation of prudence, decency, and regularity, and an admir ation of thoughtlessness, oddity, and vehement sensibility; in short, with a belief in the dispensing power of genius in all matters of morality. Burns had too much masculine good sense ever to fall into that wretched fallacy. He never so deceived himself. Wild words, indeed, often broke from him; and once, in well-known lines, most wrongly, perhaps somewhat impiously, he pleaded that the light which led astray was light from heaven. But he has written enough of selfcondemnation, self-reproach, to show he did not think so. Who can doubt this on reading that sincere and solemn avowal in the stanzas he styled "The Bard's Epitaph " ?-as touching a confession as ever was composed : "Is there a whim-inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, And owre this grassy heap sing dool, "Is there a bard of rustic song, Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, That weekly this area throng? Oh, pass not by ! But, with a frater-feeling strong Here heave a sigh. "Is there a man whose judgment clear Yet runs himself life's mad career Wild as the wave? Here pause, and, through the starting tear, "The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low, "Reader, attend: whether thy soul Know, prudent, cautious self-control That grave for which this epitaph in fancy was meant has been visited by those who perhaps deemed the poor inhabitant below to have been no better than a miserable drunkard, by others who wrongly condemned 66 LINES TO THE SONS OF BURNS. 231 him for having perverted his great endowment to the vindication of moral lawlessness. It has been, too, visited phrenologically. The phrenologists, as Allan Cunningham sarcastically describes the affair, disinterred the skull, applied their compasses, and satisfied themselves that Burns had capacity equal to the composition of "Tam O'Shanter," "The Cotter's Saturday Night," and " Mary in Heaven." "Oh for an hour of Burns for these men's sakes!" exclaims a kindred spirit: were there a witch of Endor in Scotland, it would be an act of comparative piety in her to bring up his spirit: to stigmatize them in verses that would burn for ever would be a gratification for which he might think it worth while to be thus brought again upon earth.” All mankind have heard of the malediction which Shakspeare utters from his monument, and of the dread which came upon the boors of Stratford-upon-Avon as they presumed to gaze upon his dust. No such fears, however, fell upon the craniologists of Dumfries. The clock struck one as they touched the dread relic: they tried their hats upon the head and found them all too little, and, having made a mould, they deposited the skull in a leaden box, carefully lined with the softest materials, and returned it once more to the hallowed ground. The grave has been visited by those who brought a better power and a better purpose,- -a poet and his sister. He has described their finding it in a corner of the churchyard; and, looking at it with melancholy and painful reflections, they repeated to each other his own verses beginning "Is there a man whose judgment clear?" "He, taking the music of that epitaph, has given what is at once the best tribute to the dead and the best warning to the living. I know of no fitter close for this lecture than Wordsworth's lines "To the Sons of Burns, after visiting their father's grave." "Hath nature strung your nerves to bear Intemperance with less harm, beware! But if the poet's wit ye share,— Like him can speed The social hour,-of tenfold care There will be need. "For honest men delight will take And of your father's name will make "Far from their noisy haunts retire, And add your voices to the quire With service meet: There seek the genius of your sire; "Or where, 'mid 'lonely heights and hows,' He paid to nature tuneful vows, Or wiped his honourable brows Bedew'd with toil, |