Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

Page 23 text:

THK AUGUSTA SEMINARY ANNUAL. 17 If the poet had not had an eye trained by love to know every phase of the outer world we could not have such pic- tures. Even in Burns ' s most passionate poem, Mary iyi Heaven, — he cannot think of the heart-rending parting, without see- ing the Ayr, — O ' er hung with wild woods, thick ' ning green. The flowers that grew by the river bank, and the fra- grance of the hawthorn, are as indelibly impressed upon us as the parting words of his love. It was not in one, but in every poem that Burns showed his love for Nature ; Chaunce loved the Spring, the growing leaves, the flowers and birds; Burns loved all these too, but no more than he did the thunder-storm and the hurricane. The streams that fretted their channels were loved by him; the Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, was his pet. His tender heart was moved with compassion for the wounded hare; and at the sight of a field mouse with its nest in ruins, he stops his plow to pity the poor harmless creature exposed to the Winter ' s blast, and grieves that he is unable to help it. The little mouse was no better ofif for his grief, but no doubt that little song protected many another mouse from the same fate, and more than that, it has helped mankind to be better and wiser. There is some- thing very simple and unaffected in the closing verse of this poem where the poet cannot help moralizing, as the mouse ' s fate brings to mind his own, — he says truly and sadly, — Still thou art blessed, compared wi ' me ! The present only toucheth thee; But och ! I backward cast my e ' e, On prospects drear ! And forward though I canna see, I guess and fear. Fannie G. Ogier.

Page 22 text:

1 THE AUGUSTA SEMINARY ANNUAL. The glowing night is gathering fast, Loud roars the wild inconstant blast, Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, I see it driving o ' er the plain; The hunter now has left the moor. The scatter ' d coveys meet secure. While here I wander pressed with care, Alang the lovely banks of Ayr. ' ' We see it all, the lonely man seeking for comfort in the storm, while the dull gray sky shows not one star to cheer. Again we have only gold and glory, as in the description of evening at Ballochmyle, when all earth and air is sinking into quiet rest. There are no long drawn comparisons or studied similies, but where a figure is used it is a gem fresh from the lap of Nature. The fables of Greece or Rome have no place in Burns ' s Works; his Love is not a Venus or a Diana, for he sings, — ' O myLuve ' s like a red, red rose That ' s newly sprung in June: O my Luve ' s like the melodie That ' s sweetly play ' d in tune. As fair thou, art my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And, I will luve thee still, my lassie, Till a ' the seas gang dry. In this tender love he almost seems to take Wordsworth ' s fancy and believe Nature alive. It is to her that this strong man goes when he would turn from his sin-stained life; un- der her influence he seems to have conquered, but as soon as he moves from her guiding hold, he is caught again in the snare of the world. We see him troubled; he stands thought- fully and sadly leaning over the little bridge at the glen, a young girl appears in sight — an apparition it seems to him, and he breaks into song describing the scene, — ' Twas even, — the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls did hang ! The Zephyrs wantoned round the bean. And bore its fragrant sweets alang; In every glen the mavis sang. All nature listening seemed the while, ' Except where greenwood echoes rang, Among the braes o ' Ballochm3 ' le.

Page 24 text:

18 the; AUGUSTA SEMINARY ANNUAL. Natural Scenery in Scott ' s Poetry. A AMONG AI.I. OUR PICTURES of Scott ' s youth- ful life, there is none more delightful to contem- plate than that of the boy as he lay on the grass-cush- ioned crags of Sandy-Knowe, and, lifting his young eyes with all the light of genius in them, looked abroad over that wonderful landscape, and saw below the windings of the silver Tweed, the gray ruins of Dry burgh, over which the soft light lingered, and nestled among the dark yew trees, and in front the purple summits of Eildon ' s triple height. It is a scene in which all influences of soul and sense mingle, for here is the charm of natural beauty and gran- deur combined with the delicious dreams of a youthful fancy , a heart and brain beating time with the great pulse of Na- ture. Even one of less genius than Scott, thus nutured, might have had Poetic impulse given. By the green hill and clear blue heaven. And these fair first recollections of his dreamy child- hood were, through his life, the most fondly loved of all, and many a time would rise Those crags, that mountain tower Which charmed his fancy ' s wakening hour, And feelings roused in life ' s first day, Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. It is pleasant to think that it was in this loved spot his spirit took its flight, and that the gentle ripple of the Tweed over the pebbles, was almost the last earthly sound that fell upon his dying ear. Keen appreciation of light, colour, and beauty in Na- ture was with Scott always, and many of his descriptions are examples of pure landscape painting. He sees every- thing wih a painter ' s eye, and under his master hand pic- tures, full of grace and of glowing brightness, flash into light and life — pictures so vivid, so wondrous, The whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream. Invested by the magic of his touch, the exquisite scenery of Lock Katrine has become the Mecca of every traveler ' s pil-