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to your diviner airs do you imagine I fast and pray for the celestial emanation? Tout au contraire! I have a glorious recipe; the very one that for his own use was invented by the divinity of healing and poetry, when erst he piped to the flocks of Admetus. I put myself in a regimen of admiring a fine woman; and in proportion to the adorability of her charms, in proportion you are delighted with my verses. The lightning of her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and the witchery of her smile the divinity of Helicon!

to the eras when they were composed, is mere love. (Now don t put any of your squinting fancy and conjecture. On John Pinkerton, Esq. constructions on this, or have any clishmaclaiver he has no mercy; but consigns him to damna- about it among our acquaintances.) I assure tion! He snarls at my publication, on the score you that to my lovely friend you are indebted for of Pindar being engaged to write songs for it; many of your best songs of mine. Do you think uncandidly and unjustly leaving it to be inferred, that the sober gin-horse routine of existence, that the songs of Scottish writers had been sent could inspire a man with life, and love, and joy a-packing to make room for Peter's! Of you he could fire him with enthusiasm, or melt him speaks with some respect, but gives you a pass-with pathos, equal to the genius of your book? ing hit or two, for daring to dress up a little-No! no!-Whenever I want to be more than some old foolish sengs for the Museum. His ordinary in song: to be in some degree equal sets of the Scottish airs are taken, he says, from the oldest collections and the best authorities: many of them, however, have such a strange aspect, and are so unlike the sets which are sung by every person of taste, old or young, in town or country, that we can scarcely recognize the features of our favourites. By going to the oldest collections of our music, it does not follow that we find the melodies in their original state. These melodies had been preserved, we know not how long, by oral communication, before being collected and printed; and as different persons sing the same air very differently, according to their accurate or confused recollection of it, so even supposing the first collectors to have possessed the industry, the taste and discernment to choose the best they could hear, (which is far from certain), still it must evidently be a chance, whether the collections exhibit any of the melodies in the state they were first composed. In selecting the melodies for my own collection, I have been as much guided by the living as by the dead. Where these differed, I preferred the sets that appeared to me the most simple and beautiful, and the most generally approved; and, without meaning any compliment to my own capability of choosing, or speaking of the pains I have taken, I flatter myself that my sets will be found equally freed from vulgar errors on the one hand, and affected graces on the other.

No. LX.

THE POET TO MR. THOMSON.

To descend to business; if you like my idea of, When she cam ben she bobbit, the following stanzas of mine, altered a little from what they were formerly when set to another air, may per haps do instead of worse stanzas.

SAW YE MY PHELY.

(Quasi dicat Phillis.) Tune-" When she came ben she bobbit."

saw ye my dear, my Phely?

O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
She's down i' the grove, wi' a new love,

She winna come hame to her Willie.

What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee her Willie.

O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willie.

· MY DEAR FRIEND, 19th October, 1794. By this morning's post I have your list, and, in general, I highly approve of it. I shall, at more leisure, give you a critique on the whole. Now for a few miscellaneous remarks. The Clarke goes to your town by to-day's fly, and Posie (in the Museum), is my composition: I wish you would call on him and take his opi- the air was taken down from Mrs. Burns' nion in general: you know his taste is a stand-voice. It is well known in the West Counard. He will return here again in a week or try, but the old words are trash. By the bys, two; so, please do not miss asking for him. One take a look at the tune again, and tell me if you thing I hope he will do, persuade you to a- do not think it is the original from which Rosdopt my favourite, Craigie-burn-wood, in your selection: It is as great a favourite of his as of mine. The lady on whom it was made is one of the finest women in Scotland; and, in fact, (entre nous) is in a manner to me what Sterne's Eliza was to him-a mistress, a friend, or what you will, in the guileless simplicity of Platonic

lin Castle is composed. The second part, in particular, for the first two or three bars, is exactly the old air. Strathallan's Lament is mine; the music is by our right-trusty and deservedly well-beloved, Allan Masterton. Donocht-head, is not mine: I would give ten pounds it were. It appeared first in the Edin

burgh Herald; and came to the Editor of that | Clarke has set a bass to it, and I intend putpaper with the Newcastle post-mark on it. ting it into the Musical Museum. Whistle o'er the lave o't is mine; the music low the verses I intend for it.

an

(The auld man, p. 225.)

Here fol

said to be by a John Bruce, a celebrated violin player in Dumfries, about the beginning of this century. This I know, Bruce, who was honest man, though a red-wud Highlandman, I would be obliged to you if you would proconstantly claimed it; and by all the old musi-cure me a sight of Ritson's collection of Engcal people here, is believed to be the author of it. lish songs, which you mention in your letter. Andrew and his cutty gun. The song to I will thank you for another information, and which this is set in the Museum, is mine; and that as speedily as you please: whether this was composed on Miss Euphemia Murray, of miserable drawling hotch-potch epistle has not Lintrose, commonly and deservedly called the completely tired you of my correspondence? Flower of Strathmore.

How long and dreary is the night. I met with some such words in a collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or two across my room, and have arranged anew, as you will find on the other page.

(How long and dreary is the night, p. 205.)

Tell me how you like this. I differ your idea of the expression of the tune. is, to me, a great deal of tenderness in it. cannot, in my opinion, dispense with a bass to your addenda airs. A lady of my acquaintance, a noted performer, plays and sings at the same time so charmingly, that I shall never bear to see any of her songs sent into the world as naked as Mr. What-d'ye-call-um has done in his London collection.t

I

No. LXI

MR. THOMSON TO THE POET.

Edinburgh, 27th October, 1794.

I AM sensible, my dear friend, that a genuine poet can no more exist without his mistress than from his meat. I wish I knew the adorable she, There whose bright eyes and witching smiles have so You often enraptured the Scottish bard! that I might drink her sweet health when the toast is going round. Craigie-burn-wood, must certainly be adopted into my family, since she is the object of the song; but in the name of decency, I must beg a new chorus verse from you. ing beyond thee, dearie, is perhaps a consumO to be lymation to be wished, but will not do for singing in the company of ladies. The songs in your last will do you lasting credit, and suit the respective airs charmingly. I am perfectly of your opinion with respect to the additional airs. The idea of sending them into the world naked as they were born was ungenerous. They must all be clothed and made decent by our friend Clarke. I find I am anticipated by the friendly CunSince the above, I have been out in the coun-ningham, in sending your Ritson's Scottish coltry taking a dinner with a friend, where I met lection. Permit me, therefore, to present you with the lady whom I mentioned in the second with his English collection, which you will repage in this odds-and-ends of a letter. As usu-ceive by the coach. I do not fiud his historical al, I got into song; and returning home, I composed the following.

These English songs gravel me to death. have not that command of the language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at Duncan Gray, to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid. For instance:

(Let not woman e'er complain, p. 209.)

essay on Scottish song interesting. Your anecdotes and miscellaneous remarks will, I am sure, be much more so. Allan has just sketched a

(Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature, charming design from Maggie Lauder. She is

p. 235.)

If you honour my verses by setting the air to them, I will vamp up the old song, and make it English enough to be understood.

I enclose you a musical curiosity, an East Indian air, which you would swear was a Scottish one. I know the authenticity of it, as the gentleman who brought it over is a particular acquaintance of mine. Do preserve me the copy I send you, as it is the only one I have.

The reader will be curious to see this poem so highly praised by Burns. See p. 151. Mr. Ritson,

dancing with such spirit as to electrify the piper, who seems almost dancing too, while he is playing with the most exquisite glee.

I am much inclined to get a small copy, and to have it engraved in the style of Ritson's prints.

P. S.-Pray, what do your anecdotes say concerning Maggie Lauder? was she a real personage, and of what rank? You would surely spier for her if you ca'd at Anstruther town.

No. LXII.

THE POET TO MR. THOMSON.

November, 1794.

been set to music, I think the shift a fair one. A song, which, under the same first verse, you will find in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. I have cut down for an English dress to your Dainty Davie, as follows:

(Chloe, p. 196.)

You may think meanly of this, but take a look at the bombast original, and you will be surprised that I have made so much of it. I have finished my song to Rothemurche's Rant; and you have Clarke to consult, as to the set of the air for singing.

MANY thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your present: it is a book of the utmost importance to me. I have yesterday begun my anecdotes, &c. for your work. I intend drawing it up in the form of a letter to you, which will save me from the tedious dull business of systematic arrangement. Indeed, as all I have to say consists of unconnected remarks, anecdotes, scraps of old songs, &c. it would be impossible to give the work a beginning, a middle, and an end; which the critics insist to be absolutely neces sary in a work. In my last, I told you my This piece has at least the merit of being a objections to the song you had selected for My regular pastoral: the vernal morn, the summer lodging is on the cold ground. On my noon, the autumnal evening, and the winter the other day to my fair Chloris, (that is the night, are regularly rounded. If you like it, poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspi- well: if not, I will insert it in the Museum. ration), she suggested an idea, which I, in my I am out of temper that you should set so return from the visit, wrought into the follow-sweet, so tender an air, as Deil tak the wars, ing song:

(Chloris, p. 197.)

visit

(Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, p. 208.)

to the foolish old verses. You talk of the silliness of Saw ye my father; by heavens, the odds is, gold to brass! Besides, the old song, though now pretty well modernized into the Scottish language, is originally, and in the early editions, a bungling low imitation of the Scottish manner, by that genius Tom D'Urfey; so has no pretensions to be a Scottish producI like you for entering so candidly and so tion. There is a pretty English song by Shekindly into the story of Ma chere Amie. I as-ridan in the Duenna, to this air, which is out sure you, I was never more in earnest in my of sight superior to D'Urfey's. It begins, life, than in the account of that affair which I

*How do you like the simplicity and tenderness of this pastoral? I think it pretty well.

storing."

sent you in my last. Conjugal love is a passion" When sable night each drooping plant rewhich I deeply feel and highly venerate; but, somehow, it does not make such a figure in poesy as that other species of the passion,

"Where Love is liberty, and Nature law."

The air, if I understand the expression of it properly, is the very native language of simplicity, tenderness, and love. I have again gone over my song to the tune as follows.

Now for my English song to Nancy's to the Greenwood, &c.

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(Maria's Dwelling, p. 260.)

Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet; while the last has powers equal to all the intellectual modulations of the human soul. Still, I am a very poet in my enthusiasm of the passion. The welfare and happiness of the beloved object is the first and inviolate sentiment that pervades There is an air, The Caledonian Hunt's demy soul; and whatever pleasures I might wish light, to which I wrote a song that you wil for, or whatever might be the raptures they find in Johnson. Ye banks and braes o' bonni would give me, yet, if they interfere with that Doon; this air, I think, might find a place afirst principle, it is having these pleasures at a mong your hundred, as Lear says of his knights. dishonest price; and justice forbids, and gene-Do you know the history of the air? It is curosity disdains the purchase!

Despairing of my own powers to give you variety enough in English songs, I have been turning over old collections, to pick out songs of which the measure is something similar to what I want; and with a little alteration, so as to suit the rhyme of the air exactly, to give you them for your work. Where the songs have hitherto been but little noticed, nor have ever

rious enough. A good many years ago, Mr. James Miller, writer in your good town, a gentleman whom possibly you know, was in com pany with our friend Clarke; and talking of Scottish music, Miller expressed an ardent ambition to be able to compose a Scots air. Mr.

* See the song in its first and best dress in p. 175,

Clarke, partly by way of joke, told him to keep | more Bacchanalian than amorous in its nature, to the black keys of the harpsichord, and pre- and recommends it to you to match the air acserve some kind of rhyme; and he would in- cordingly. Pray did it ever occur to you how fallibly compose a Scots air. Certain it is that, peculiarly well the Scottish airs are adapted for in a few days, Mr. Miller produced the rudi-verses in the form of a dialogue? The first ments of an air, which Mr. Clarke, with some part of the air is generally low, and suited for touches and corrections, fashioned into the tune a man's voice, and the second part in many inin question. Ritson, you know, has the same stances cannot be sung, at concert pitch, but by story of the Black Keys; but this account a female voice. A song thus performed makes which I have just given you, Mr. Clarke in an agreeable variety, but few of ours are writformed me of, several years ago. Now to shew ten in this form: I wish you would think of it you how difficult it is to trace the origin of our in some of those that remain. The only one of airs, I have heard it repeatedly asserted that this the kind you have sent me, is admirable, and was an Irish air; nay, I met with an Irish gen-will be an universal favourite. tleman who affirmed he had heard it in Ireland Your verses for Rothemurche are so sweetly among the old women; while, on the other hand, a Countess informed me, that the first person who introduced the air into this country, was a baronet's lady of her acquaintance, who took down the notes from an itinerant piper in the Isle of Man. How difficult then to ascertain the truth respecting our poesy and music! I, myself, have lately seen a couple of ballads sung through the streets of Dumfries, with my name at the head of them as the author, though it was the first time I had ever seen them.

I thank you for admitting Craigie-burnwood; and I shall take care to furnish you with a new chorus. In fact, the chorus was not my work, but a part of some old verses to the air. If I can catch myself in a more than ordinarily propitious moment, I shall write a new Craigieburn-wood altogether. My heart is much in the theme.

I am ashamed, my dear fellow, to make the request; 'tis dunning your generosity; but in a moment, when I had forgotten whether I was rich or poor, I promised Chloris a copy of your songs. It wrings my honest pride to write you this; but an ungracious request is doubly so by a tedious apology. To make you some amends, as soon as I have extracted the necessary information out of them, I will return you Ritson's volumes.

The lady is not a little proud that she is to make so distinguished a figure in your collection, and I am not a little proud that I have it in my power to please her so much. Lucky it is. for your patience that my paper is done, for when I am in a scribbling humour, I know not when to give over.

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pastoral, and your serenade to Chloris, for Deil tak the wars, so passionately tender, that I have sung myself into raptures with them. Your song for My lodging is on the cold ground, is likewise a diamond of the first water; I am quite dazzled and delighted by it. Some of your Chlorises I suppose have flaxen hair, from your partiality for this colour; else we differ about it; for I should scarcely conceive a woman to be a beauty, on reading that she had lint-white locks!

Farewell thou stream that winding flows, I think excellent, but it is much too serious to come after Nancy: at least it would seem an incongruity to provide the same air with merry Scottish and melancholy English verses! The more that the two sets of verses resemble each other in their general character, the better. Those you have manufactured for Dainty Davie, will answer charmingly. I am happy to find you have begun your anecdotes: I care not how long they be, for it is impossible that any thing from your pen can be tedious. Let me beseech you not to use ceremony in telling me when you wish to present any of your friends with the songs: the next carrier will bring you three copies, and you are as welcome to twenty as to a pinch of snuff.

No. LXIV.

THE POET TO MR. THOMSON.

19th November, 1794. You see, my dear Sir, what a punctual cor respondent I am; though indeed you may thank yourself for the tedium of my letters, as you have so flattered me on my horsemanship with my favourite hobby, and have praised the grace of his ambling so much, that I am scarcely ever off his back. For instance, this morning, though a keen blowing frost, in my walk before breakfast, I finished my duet which you were pleased to praise so much. Whether I have uniformly succeeded, I will not say; but here it is for you, though it is not an hour old.

(OPhilly, happy be that day, p. 220.)

Tell me honestly how you like it; and point but whatever you think faulty.

Contented wi' little, and cantie ioi máir, p. 197.)

Since yesterday's penmanship, I have frameu a couple of English Stanzas, by way of an Eng lish song to Roy's wife. You will allow me that in this instance, my English corresponds in sentiment with the Scottish.

(Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy? p. 196.)

I am much pleased with your idea of singing our songs in alternate stanzas, and regret that you did not hint it to me sooner. In those that remain, I shall have it in my eye. I remember your objections to the name Philly; but it is the common abbreviation of Phillis. Sally, the only other name that suits, has, to my ear, à vulgarity about it, which unfits it for any thing except burlesque. The legion of Scottish poetasters of the day, whom your brother editor, Mr. Ritson, ranks with me, as my coevals, have always mistaken vulgarity for simplicity; whereas, simplicity is as much eloignée from vulgarity Tell my friend Allan (for I am sure that we on the one hand, as from affected point and puer-only want the trifling circumstance of being ile, conceit on the other. known to one another, to be the best friends on

Well! I think this, to be done in two or three turns across my room, and with two or three pinches of Irish Blackguard, is not so far amiss. You see I am determined to have my quaatum of applause from somebody.

I agree with you as to the air, Craigie-burn-earth), that I much suspect he has, in his plates, wood, that a chorus would in some degree spoil mistaken the figure of the stock and horn. I the effect, and shall certainly have none in my have, at last, gotten one; but it is a very rude projected song to it. It is not however a case instrument. It is composed of three parts; the in point with Rothiemurchie; there, as in Roy's stock, which is the hinder thigh-bone of a sheep, Wife of Aldivalloch, a chorus goes, to my taste, such as you see in a mutton-ham; the horn, well enough. As to the chorus going first, that which is a common Highland cow's horn, cut is the case with Roy's Wife, as well as Rothie-off at the smaller end, until the aperture be large murchie. In fact, in the first part of both tunes, enough to admit the stock to be pushed up the rhyme is so peculiar and irregular, and on through the horn, until it be held by the thicker that irregularity depends so much of their beau-end of the thigh-bone; and lastly, an oaten ty, that we must e'en take them with all their wildness, and humour the verse accordingly. Leaving out the starting note, in both tunes, has, I think, an effect that no regularity could counterbalance the want of."

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reed exactly cut and notched like that which you see every shepherd-boy have, when the corn stems are green and full-grown. The reed is not made fast in the bone, but is held by the lips, and plays loose in the smaller end of the stock; while the stock, with the horn hanging on its larger end, is held by the hands in playing. The stock has six or seven ventiges on the upper side, and one back-ventige, like the common flute. This of mine was made by a man from the braes of Athole, and is exactly what the shepherds wont to use in that country.

Does not the tameness of the prefixed syllable However, either it is not quite properly bored strike you? In the last case, with the true in the holes, or else we have not the art of blowfuror of genius, you strike at once into the wilding it rightly; for we can make little of it. If originality of the air; whereas in the first insi- Mr. Allan chooses, I will send him a sight of pid method, it is like the grating screw of the pins before the fiddle is brought into tune. This is my taste; if I am wrong, I beg pardon of the cognoscenti.

The Caledonian Hunt is so charming, that it would make any subject in a song go down; but pathos is certainly its native tongue. Scottish Bacchanalians we certainly want, though the few we have are excellent. For instance, Todlin hame is, for wit and humour, an unparalleled composition; and Andrew and his cutty gun is the work of a master. By the way, are you not quite vexed to think that those men of genius, for such they certainly were, who composed our fine Scottish lyrics, should be unknown! It has given me many a heart-ache. Apropos to Bacchanalian songs in Scottish; I composed one yesterday for an air I like much-Lumps o' pud ding.

mine; as I look on myself to be a kind of brother-brush with him. "Pride in Poets is use sin," and, I will say it, that, I look on Mr. Allan and Mr. Burns to be the only genuine and real painters of Scottish costume in the world.

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