I have been very busy with Zeluco. The Docter is so obliging as to request my opinion of it; and I have been revolving in my mind some kind of criticisms on novel-writing, but it is a depth beyond my research. I shall, however, digest my thoughts on the subject as well as I can. Zeluco is a most sterling performance. Farewell! A Dieu, le bon Dieu, je vous com mende! No. No. LXXXIV. From DR. BLACKLOCK. Edinburgh, 24th August, 1789. DEAR Burns, thou brother of my heart, Which Nature's bounty, large and free, And ruthless souls with grief surprise, Most anxiously I wish to know, With thee of late how matters go; What promises thy farm of wealth? Whether Whether the Muse persists to smile, For me with grief and sickness spent, THO. BLACKLOCK. No. No. LXXXV, To DR. BLACKLOCK. Ellisland, 21st October, 1789. Wow, but your letter made me vauntie ! Lord send you ay as weel's I want ye, The ill-thief blaw the Heron south! He'd tak my letter; I lippen'd to the chiel in trouth, And bade nae better. But But aiblins honest Master Heron Had at the time some dainty fair one, And holy study; And tir'd o' sauls to waste his lear on, But what d'ye think, my trusty fier, Ye'll now disdain me, And then my fifty pounds a year, Will little gain me. Ye glaiket, gleesome, dainty damies, That strang necessity supreme is ’Mang sons o’ men. I hae * Mr. Heron, author of the History of Scotland, lately published; and, among various other works, of a respectable life of our Poet himself. E. |