r peasantry would believe, before
their souls awakened from torpor he is a luminous and benign presence in
the dark hut; for, in its purity and power, his best poetry is felt to
be inspired, and subordinate to the voice of heaven.

And will such a people endure to hear their own Poet wronged? No, no.
Think not to instruct _them_ in the right spirit of judgment. They have
read the Scriptures, perhaps, to better purpose than their revilers, and
know better how to use the lessons learned there, applicable alike to us
all--the lessons, searching and merciful, which proscribe mutual
judgment amongst beings, all, in the eye of absolute Holiness and Truth,
stained, erring, worthless: And none so well as aged religious men in
such dwellings know, from their own experience, from what they have
witnessed among their neighbours, and from what they have read of the
lives of good and faithful servants, out of the heart of what moral
storms and shipwrecks, that threatened to swallow the strong swimmer in
the middle passage of life, has often been landed safe at last, the
rescued worshipper upon the firm land of quiet duties, and of years
exempt from the hurricane of the passions! Thus thoughtfully guided in
their opinion of him, who died young--cut off long before the period
when others, under the gracious permission of overruling mercy, have
begun to redeem their errors, and fortified perhaps by a sacred office,
to enter upon a new life--they will for ever solemnly cherish the memory
of the Poet of the Poor. And in such sentiments there can be no doubt
but that all his countrymen share; who will, therefore rightfully hold
out between Burns and all enemies a shield which clattering shafts may
not pierce. They are proud of him, as a lowly father is proud of an
illustrious son. The rank and splendour attained reflects glory down,
but resolves not, nor weakens one single tie.

Ay, for many a deep reason the Scottish people love their own Robert
Burns. Never was the personal character of poet so strongly and
endearingly exhibited in his song. They love him, because he loved his
own order, nor ever desired for a single hour to quit it. They love him,
because he loved the very humblest condition of humanity, where every
thing good was only the more commended to his manly mind by
disadvantages of social position. They love him, because he saw with
just anger, how much the judgments of "silly coward man" are determined
by such accidents, to