Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love, And come, my faithfu' sodger lad, For gold the merchant ploughs the main, But glory is the sodger's prize, MEG O' THE MILL. Air-"O BONNIE LASS WILL YOU LIE IN A BARRACK." O KEN ye The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy; The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving: The Laird did address her wi' matter more moving, No. XVII. MR THOMSON to MR BURNS. Edinburgh, 2d April, 1793. self, the prince of indolent correspondents;" but it the adjective were taken away, I think the title would then fit you exactly. It gives me pleasure to and you can furnish anecdotes with respect to most of the songs: these will be a literary curiosity. I now send you my list of the songs, which I beLeve will de fixad soury complete. I have put dowa the dist las all the English songs which I ANAVAR graje a alfoot to the Scotch verses. If Ala do te jes, detær alspeed to the cha**********? #8 par moccur them, wher you faA passað que orgy thing else have been conning it over; he will suggest what is necessary to make them a fit match.* WANDERING WILLIE, As altered by Mr Erskine and Mr Thomson. Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers, Blow soft ye breezes! roll gently ye billows! And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms! But, oh! if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, While, dying, I think that my Willie's my ain! Our poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows: Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, The gentleman I have mentioned, whose fine taste you are no stranger to, is so well pleased both with the musical and poetical part of our work, that he has volunteered his assistance, and has already written four songs for it, which, by his own desire, I send for your perusal. No. XVIII. MR BURNS to MR THOMSON. WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST WAS BLAWN. Air" THE MILL MILL O." WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn, Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, Wauken ye breezes! row gently ye billows! But, oh if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain! The Homeric Several of the alterations seem to be of little importance in themselves, and were adopted, it may be presumed, for the sake of suiting the words better to the music. epithet for the sea, dark-heaving, suggested by Mr Erskine, is in itself more beautiful, as well perhaps as more sublime, than wide-roaring, which he has retained; but as it is only applicable to a placid state of the sea, or at most to the swell left Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, A leal, light heart was in my breast, I thought upon the banks o' Coil, At length I reach'd the bonny glen, Down by her mother's dwelling! on its surface after the storm is over, it gives a picture of that element not so well adapted to the ideas of eternal separation, which the fair mourner is supposed to imprecate. From the original song of Here wwa Willie, Burns has borrowed nothing but the second line and part of the first. The superior excellence of this beautiful poem will, it is hoped, justify the different editions of it which we have given. * Variation, lines 3d and 4th: And eyes again with pleasure beam'd, See No. XXIV. E. |