lads sung through the streets of Dumfries | form: I wish you would think of it in with my name at the head of them as the some of those that remain. The only author, though it was the first time I had one of the kind you have sent me is adever seen them. mirable, and will be a universal favourite. · Your verses for Rothiemurchie are so sweetly pastoral, and your serenade to Chloris, for Diel 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 like I thank you for admitting Cragie-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 Cragie-burn-wise a diamond of the first water; and I 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. No. LXIII. MR. THOMSON TO MR. BURNS. MY GOOD SIR, 13th November, 1794. SINCE receiving your last, I have had another interview with Mr. Clarke, and a long consultation. He thinks the Caledonian Hunt is more Bacchanalian than amorous in its nature, and recommends it to you to match the air accordingly. Pray did it ever occur to you how peculiarly well the Scottish airs are adapted for verses in the form of a dialogue? The first part of the air is generally low, and suited for a man's voice, and the second part in many instances cannot be sung, at concert pitch, but by a female voice. A song thus performed makes an agreeable variety, but few of ours are written in this D d am quite dazzled and delighted by it. Some of your Chlorises I suppose have flaxen hair, from your partiality for thi colour; else we differ about it; for I should scarcely conceive a woman to be a beauty, on reading that she had lintwhite 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. MR. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON 19th November, 1794. You see, my dear Sir, what a punctual correspondent 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 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. HE. O PHILLY, happy be that day Tell me honestly how you like it; and point out whatever you think faulty. I am much pleased with your idea of singing our songs in alternate stanzas, and regret that you did not hint it to me Booner. In those that remain, I shall nave 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 a 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 eloignee from vulgarity on the one hand, as from affected point and puerile conceit on the other. 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' Pudding. Contented wi' little, and canty wi' mair, If you do not relish this air, I will send it to Johnson. I agree with you as to the air, Cragieburn-wood, that a chorus would in some degree spoil the effect; and shall certainly have none in my projected song to it. Since yesterday's penmanship, I have It is not however a case in point with Ro- | framed a couple of English stanzas, by thiemurchie; there, as in Roy's Wife of Al-way of an English song to Roy's Wife. divaloch, a chorus goes, to my taste, well You will allow me that in this instance, enough. As to the chorus going first, that my English corresponds in sentiment is the case with Roy's Wife, as well as with the Scottish. Rothiemurchie. In fact, in the first part of both tunes, the rhythm is so peculiar and irregular, and on that irregularity depends so much of their beauty, that we must e'en take them with all their wildness, and humour the verses accordingly. Leaving out the starting note, in both times has, I think, an effect that no regularity could counterbalance the want of. Try O Roy's Wife of Aldivaloch. and compare with, Roy's Wife of Aldivaloch. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks. Does not the tameness of the prefixed syllable strike you? In the last case, with the true furor of genius, you strike at once into the wild originality of the air: whereas in the first insipid method, CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS, MY KATY? CHORUS. Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy? See Poems p. 100. *To this address, in the character of a forsaken b ver, a reply was found on the part of the lady, among the MSS. of our bard, evidently in a female hand-writnig; which is doubtless that referred to in p. 213, letter No. XLII. Note. The temptation to give it to the public is irresistible; and if, in so doing, offence should be given to the fair authoress, the beauty of her verses must plead our excuse. Tune-Roy's Wife.' CHORUS. Stay, my Willie-yet believe me, Stay, my Willie-yet believe me, For, ah! thou know'st na every pan Wad wring my bosom shouldst thou leave me. Tell me that thou yet art true, And a' my wrongs shall be forgiven, Well! I think this, to be done in two | can make little of it. If Mr. Allan or three turns across my room, and with chooses I will send him a sight of mine; two or three pinches of Irish Blackguard, as I look on myself to be a kind of brois not so far amiss. You see I am de- ther-brush with him. "Pride in Poets is termined to have my quantum of applause nae sin;" and I will say it, that I look on from somebody. Mr. Allan and Mr. Burns to be the only genuine and real painters of Scottish costume in the world. Tell my friend Allan (for I am sure that we only want the trifling circumstance of being known to one another, to be the best friends on earth) that I much suspect he has, in his plates, mistaken the figure of the stock and horn. I have, at last, gotten one; but it is a very rude instrument. It is composed of three parts; the stock, which is the hinder thigh-bone of a sheep, such as you see in a mutton ham; the horn, which is a common Highland cow's horn, cut off at the smaller end, until the aperture be large enough to admit the stock to be pushed up through the horn until it be held by the thicker end of the thigh-bone; and lastly, an oaten reed exactly cut and notched like that which you see every shepherd boy have, when the corn-stems are green and fullgrown. 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 sides, 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. However, either it is not quite properly bored in the holes, or else we have not the art of blowing it rightly; for we And when this heart proves fause to thee, But to think I was betray'd, That falsehood e'er our loves should sunder! Could I hope thou'dst ne'er deceive, That heaven I'd find within thy bosom. No. LXV MR. THOMSON TO MR. BURNS. 28th November, 1794 I ACKNOWLEDGE, my dear Sir, you are not only the most punctual, but the most delectable correspondent I ever met with. To attempt flattering you, never entered into my head; the truth is, I look back with surprise at my impudence, in so frequently nibbling at lines and couplets of your incomparable lyrics, for which, perhaps, if you had served me right, you would have sent me to the devil. On the contrary, however, you have all along condescended to invite my criticism with so much courtesy, that it ceases to be wonderful, If I have sometimes given myself the airs of a reviewer. Your last budget demands unqualified praise: all the songs are charming, but the duet is a chef d'œuvre. Lumps o' Pudding shall certainly make one of my family dishes; you have cooked it so capitally, that it will please all palates. Do give us a few more of this cast when you find yourself in goods pirits; these convivial songs are more wanted than those of the amorous kind, of which, we have great choice. Besides, one does not often meet with a singer capable of giving the proper effect to the latter, while the former are easily sung, and acceptable to every body. I participate in your regret that the authors of some of our best songs are unknown; it is provoking to every admirer of genius. I mean to have a picture painted from your beautiful ballad, The Soldier's Return, to be engraved for one of my fron tispieces. The most interesting point of time appears to me, when she first recognizes her ain dear Willy, "She gaz'd, she redden'd like a rose." The three lines immediately following are no doubt more impressive on the reader's feelings; but were the painter to fix on these, then you'll observe the animation and anxiety No. LXVII. of her countenance is gone, and he could MR. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON only represent her fainting in the soldier's arms. But I submit the matter to you, and beg your opinion. Allan desires me to thank you for your accurate description of the stock and horn, and for the very gratifying compliment you pay him in considering him worthy of standing in a niche by the side of Burns in the Scottish Pantheon. He has seen the rude instrument you describe, so does not want you to send it; but wishes to know whether you believe it to have ever been generally used as a musical pipe by the Scottish shepherds, and when, and in what part of the country chiefly. I doubt much if it was capable of any thing but routing and roaring. A friend of mine says he remembers to have heard one in his younger days made of wood instead of your bone, and that the sound was abominable. Do not. I beseech you, return any books. No. LXVI. MR. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON December, 1794. Ir is, I assure you, the pride of my heart, to do any thing to forward, or add to the value of your book; and as I agree with you that the Jacobite song in the Museum, to There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame, would not so well consort with Peter Pindar's excellent lovesong to that air, I have just framed for you the following: MY NANNIE'S AWA. Now in her green mantle blithe nature arrays, And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes, See Poems, p. 100. How does this please you? As to the point of time for the expression, in your proposed print from my Sodger's Return, it must certainly be at-"She gaz'd." The interesting dubiety and suspense taking possession of her countenance, and the gushing fondness with a mixture of roguish playfulness in his, strike me, as things of which a master will make a great deal. In great haste, but in great truth, yours January, 1795. I FEAR for my songs; however a few may please, yet originality is a coy feature in composition, and in a multiplicity of efforts in the same style, disappears altogether. For these three thousand years, we poetic folks, have been describing the spring, for instance; and as the spring continues the same, there must soon be a sameness in the imagery, &c. of these said rhyming folks. A great critic, Aikin, on songs, says, that love and wine are the exclusive themes for song-writing. The following is on neither subject, and consequently is no song; but will be allowed, I think, to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts, inverted into rhyme. FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. Is there, for honest poverty, I do not give you the foregoing song for your book, but merely by way of vive la bagatelle; for the piece is not really poetry. How will the following do for Craigie-burn-wood?* SWEET fa's the eve on Cragie-burn, Farewell! God bless you. No. LXVIII. MR. THOMSON TO MR. BURNS. Edinburgh, 30th January, 1795. MY DEAR SIR, I THANK you heartily for Nannie's awa, as well as for Craigic-burn, which * Craigie-burn-wood is situated on the banks of the river Moffat, and about three miles distant from the village of that name, celebrated for its medicinal waters. -The woods of Craigie-burn and of Dumcrief, were at one time favourite haunts of our poet. It was there he met the "Lassie wi' the lint-white locks," and that be conceived several of his beautiful lyrics. E You cannot have any idea of the predicament in which I write to you. In the course of my duty as Supervisor (in which capacity I have acted of late,) I came yesternight to this unfortunate, wicked, little village. I have gone forward, but snows of ten feet deep have impeded my progress; I have tried to " gae back the gait self to get rid of them; like a prudent man (a character congenial to my every thought, word, and deed,) I of two evils, have chosen the least, and am very drunk, at your service!* I wrote to you yesterday from Dumfries. I had not time then to tell you all I wanted to say; and heaven knows, at present I have not capacity. Do you know an air-I am sure you must know it, We'll gang nae mair to yon town? I think, in slowish time, it would make an excellent song. I am highly delighted with it; and if you should think it worthy of your attention, I have a fair dame in my eve to whom I would conse crate it. As I am just going to bed, I wish you a good night. No. LXXI MR. THOMSON TO MR. BURNS 25th February, 1795. I HAVE to thank you, my dear Sir, for two epistles, one containing Let me in this ae night; and the other from Ecclefechan, proving, that drunk or sober, your "mind is never muddy." You have displayed great address in the above song. Her answer is excellent, and at the same time, takes away the indelicacy that otherwise would have attached to his entreaties. I like the song as it now stands, very much. I had hopes you would be arrested some days at Ecclefechan, and be obliged to beguile the tedious forenoons by songmaking. It will give me pleasure to receive the verses you intend for O wat ye wha's in yon town? No. LXXII. May, 1795 ADDRESS TO THE WOODLARK. cam again," but the same obstacle has MR. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON shut me up within insuperable bars. To add to my misfortune, since dinner, a scraper has been torturing cat gut,in sounds that would have insulted the dying agonies of a sow under the hands of a butcher, and thinks himself, on that very account, exceeding good company. In fact, I have been in a dilemma, either to get drunk, to forget these miseries, or to hang my-sweet Ecclefechan at this mate ६ STAY, Sweet warbling woodlark, stay, The bard must have been tipsy indeed, to abure |