and harmony. With whatever talent a man may be born, the art of
writing is not easily learned.

I sent off this piece without mentioning it to anybody, except, I
think, to Grimm.

The year following (1750), not thinking more of my discourse, I learned
it had gained the premium at Dijon. This news awakened all the ideas
which had dictated it to me, gave them new animation, and completed the
fermentation of my heart of that first leaves of heroism and virtue
which my father, my country, and Plutarch had inspired in my infancy.
Nothing now appeared great in my eyes but to be free and virtuous,
superior to fortune and opinion, and independent of all exterior
circumstances; although a false shame, and the fear of disapprobation
at first prevented me from conducting myself according to these
principles, and from suddenly quarrelling with the maxims of the age in
which I lived, I from that moment took a decided resolution to do
it. . . .




ROBERT BURNS

(1759-1796)

THE PLOUGHMAN-POET

A note of pride in his humble origin rings throughout the following
pages. The ploughman poet was wiser in thought than in deed, and his