A Winter Night
By Robert Burns
When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless bow’r;
When Phœbus gies a short-liv’d glow’r
Far south the lift,
Dim-darkening through the flaky show’r,
Or whirling drift:
Ae night the storm the steeples rocked,
Poor labour sweet in sleep was locked,
While burns, wi’ snawy wreeths up-choked,
Wild-eddying swirl.
Or through the mining outlet bocked,
Down headlong hurl.
Listening, the doors an’ winnocks rattle,
I thought me on the ourie cattle,
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle
O’ winter war,
And through the drift, deep-lairing sprattle
Beneath a scar.
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 cower thy chittering wing,
An’ close thy e’e?
Ev’n you on murd’ring errands toil’d,
Lone from your savage homes exiled,
The blood-stained roost, and sheep-cote spoiled
My heart forgets,
While pitiless the tempest wild
Sore on you beats.
Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign,
Dark muffled, viewed the dreary plain;
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train,
Rose in my soul,
When on my ear this plaintive strain
Slow, solemn, stole: —
“Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust!
And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost:
Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows!
Not all your rage, as now united, shows
More hard unkindness, unrelenting,
Vengeful malice unrepenting,
Than heaven-illumined man on brother man bestows;
See stern oppression’s iron grip,
Or mad ambition’s gory hand,
Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip,
Woe, want, and murder o’er a land!
Even in the peaceful rural vale,
Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale,
How pamper’d luxury, flattery by her side,
The parasite empoisoning her ear.
With all the servile wretches in the rear,
Looks o’er proud property, extended wide;
And eyes the simple rustic hind,
Whose toil upholds the glittering show,
A creature of another kind,
Some coarser substance, unrefin’d,
Placed for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below.
Where, where is love’s fond, tender throe,
With lordly honour’s lofty brow,
The powers you proudly own?
Is there, beneath love’s noble name,
Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim,
To bless himself alone!
Mark maiden innocence a prey
To love-pretending snares,
This boasted honour turns away,
Shunning soft pity’s rising sway,
Regardless of the tears and unavailing prayers!
Perhaps this hour, in misery’s squalid nest,
She strains your infant to her joyless breast,
And with a mother’s fears shrinks at the rocking blast!
Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down,
Feel not a want but what yourselves create,
Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate,
Whom friends and fortune quite disown!
Ill satisfied keen nature’s clamorous call,
Stretched on his straw he lays himself to sleep,
While through the ragged roof and chinky wall,
Chill o’er his slumbers piles the drifty heap!
Think on the dungeon’s grim confine,
Where guilt and poor misfortune pine!
Guilt, erring man, relenting view!
But shall thy legal rage pursue
The wretch, already crushed low
By cruel fortune’s undeserved blow?
Affliction’s sons are brothers in distress,
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!”
I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer
Shook off the pouthery snaw,
And hailed the morning with a cheer —
A cottage-rousing craw!
But deep this truth impressed my mind —
Through all his works abroad,
The heart benevolent and kind
The most resembles God.
Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless bow’r;
When Phœbus gies a short-liv’d glow’r
Far south the lift,
Dim-darkening through the flaky show’r,
Or whirling drift:
Ae night the storm the steeples rocked,
Poor labour sweet in sleep was locked,
While burns, wi’ snawy wreeths up-choked,
Wild-eddying swirl.
Or through the mining outlet bocked,
Down headlong hurl.
Listening, the doors an’ winnocks rattle,
I thought me on the ourie cattle,
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle
O’ winter war,
And through the drift, deep-lairing sprattle
Beneath a scar.
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 cower thy chittering wing,
An’ close thy e’e?
Ev’n you on murd’ring errands toil’d,
Lone from your savage homes exiled,
The blood-stained roost, and sheep-cote spoiled
My heart forgets,
While pitiless the tempest wild
Sore on you beats.
Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign,
Dark muffled, viewed the dreary plain;
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train,
Rose in my soul,
When on my ear this plaintive strain
Slow, solemn, stole: —
“Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust!
And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost:
Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows!
Not all your rage, as now united, shows
More hard unkindness, unrelenting,
Vengeful malice unrepenting,
Than heaven-illumined man on brother man bestows;
See stern oppression’s iron grip,
Or mad ambition’s gory hand,
Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip,
Woe, want, and murder o’er a land!
Even in the peaceful rural vale,
Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale,
How pamper’d luxury, flattery by her side,
The parasite empoisoning her ear.
With all the servile wretches in the rear,
Looks o’er proud property, extended wide;
And eyes the simple rustic hind,
Whose toil upholds the glittering show,
A creature of another kind,
Some coarser substance, unrefin’d,
Placed for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below.
Where, where is love’s fond, tender throe,
With lordly honour’s lofty brow,
The powers you proudly own?
Is there, beneath love’s noble name,
Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim,
To bless himself alone!
Mark maiden innocence a prey
To love-pretending snares,
This boasted honour turns away,
Shunning soft pity’s rising sway,
Regardless of the tears and unavailing prayers!
Perhaps this hour, in misery’s squalid nest,
She strains your infant to her joyless breast,
And with a mother’s fears shrinks at the rocking blast!
Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down,
Feel not a want but what yourselves create,
Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate,
Whom friends and fortune quite disown!
Ill satisfied keen nature’s clamorous call,
Stretched on his straw he lays himself to sleep,
While through the ragged roof and chinky wall,
Chill o’er his slumbers piles the drifty heap!
Think on the dungeon’s grim confine,
Where guilt and poor misfortune pine!
Guilt, erring man, relenting view!
But shall thy legal rage pursue
The wretch, already crushed low
By cruel fortune’s undeserved blow?
Affliction’s sons are brothers in distress,
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!”
I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer
Shook off the pouthery snaw,
And hailed the morning with a cheer —
A cottage-rousing craw!
But deep this truth impressed my mind —
Through all his works abroad,
The heart benevolent and kind
The most resembles God.
Poem Analysis:
Robert Burns, often hailed as Scotland's national poet, possessed an extraordinary ability to encapsulate human emotions and experiences in his poetry. In "A Winter Night," Burns paints a vivid picture of a harsh winter night while seamlessly weaving in themes of compassion and humanity. In this analysis, we will explore the poem's rich imagery, its portrayal of nature's fury, and the central theme of benevolence.
- Nature's Wrath: The poem begins with a stark depiction of a winter night under the dominion of "biting Boreas," the personification of the harsh north wind. Burns uses evocative language to describe the biting cold, as "sharp shivers" cut through the leafless bowers. His vivid imagery sets the scene of a frigid and unforgiving winter landscape. The "dim-darkening through the flaky show’r, Or whirling drift" reinforces the sense of desolation and isolation one might feel during such a night.
- Humanity's Response to Nature: Amidst this chilling portrayal of nature's fury, Burns introduces the theme of compassion and human empathy. He reflects on the plight of the animals, such as cattle and sheep, who must endure the winter's harshness. Burns' empathy for these creatures, as well as for the "wee, helpless thing[s]" like birds seeking shelter, reveals his deep sensitivity to the suffering of all living beings.
- The Contrast of Night and Day: Burns skillfully contrasts the night's fury with the calm and serene image of "Phoebe, in her midnight reign." The moonlight provides a soothing counterpoint to the earlier description of the stormy night. This transition serves to emphasize the idea that moments of solace and compassion can be found even in the bleakest of circumstances.
- The Violin's Plaintive Melody: Similar to the violin's appearance in Rainer Maria Rilke's "Moonlight Night," an unexpected element emerges in Burns' poem. The violin here symbolizes the poet's introspection and contemplation. Its plaintive melody seems to mirror the poet's thoughts about the injustices and suffering in the world. It acts as a vehicle for the poet's own emotions, reflecting his deep concern for humanity.
- A Plea for Compassion: As the poem progresses, Burns' thoughts shift from the natural world to the human condition. He pleads for empathy and compassion, addressing societal issues such as oppression, ambition, and the mistreatment of the less fortunate. Burns implores readers to consider the suffering of those less fortunate and to extend a helping hand to those in need. His impassioned plea serves as a reminder of the importance of kindness and benevolence in a world often marked by cruelty and indifference.
"A Winter Night" by Robert Burns is a masterful blend of vivid nature imagery and profound human emotion. Burns uses the backdrop of a harsh winter night to explore themes of compassion, empathy, and the universal human experience of suffering. The poem calls on readers to reflect on their own capacity for kindness and benevolence, urging them to reach out to those who are less fortunate. Through its lyrical beauty and heartfelt plea for understanding, "A Winter Night" continues to resonate with readers as a timeless ode to compassion amidst the elements.