BANNOCK-BURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled; Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Now's the day and now's the hour; See approach proud Edward's power- Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Traitor coward! turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Free-man stand, or free-man fa', By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! Liberty's in every blow! Forward! let us do, or die! N. B. I have borrowed the last stanza from the common stall edition of Wallace. "A false usurper sinks in every foe, blow." A couplet worthy of Homer. Yesterday you had enough of my correspondence. The post goes, and my head aches miserably. One comfort!—I suffer so much, just now, in this world, for last night's joviality, that I shall escape scot-free for it in the world to come. Amen. No. XLIV. MR THOMSON to MR BURNS. 12th September, 1793. A THOUSAND thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your observations on the list of my songs. I am happy to find your ideas so much in unison with my own, respecting the generality of the airs, as well as the verses. About some of them we differ, but there is no disputing about hobby-horses. I shall not fail to profit by the remarks you make; and to re-consider the whole with attention. Dainty Davie must be sung, two stanzas together, and then the chorus: 'tis the proper way. I agree with you, that there may be something of pathos, or tenderness at least, in the air of Fee him Father, when performed with feeling: but a tender `cast may be given almost to any lively air, if you sing it very slowly, expressively, and with serious words. I am, however, clearly and invariably for retaining the cheerful tunes joined to their own humorous verses, wherever the verses are passable. But the sweet song for Fee him Father, which you began about the back of midnight, I will publish as an additional one. Mr James Balfour, the king of good fellows, and the best singer of the lively Scottish ballads that ever existed, has charmed thousands of companies with Fee him Father, and with Todlin hame also, to the old words, which never should be disunited from either of these airs-Some Bacchanals I would wish to discard. Fy, let's a' to the Bridal, for instance, is so coarse and vulgar, that I think it fit only to be sung in a company of drunken colliers; and Saw ye Father? appears to me both indelicate and silly. One word more with regard to your heroic ode. I think, with great deference to the poet, that a prudent general would avoid saying any thing to his soldiers which might tend to make death more frightful than it is. Gory presents a disagreeable image to the mind, and to tell them "Welcome to "your gory b.d," seems rather a discouraging address, notwithstanding the alternative which follows. I have snewn the song to three friends of excellent taste, and each of them objected to this line, which emboldens me to use the freedom of bringing it again under your notice. I would suggest. "Now prepare for honour's bed, No. XLV. MR BURNS to MR THOMSON. September, 1793. "WHO shall decide when doctors disagree?" My ode pleases me so much that I cannot alter it. Your proposed alterations would, in my opinion, make it tame. I am exceedingly obliged to you for putting me on reconsidering it; as I think I have much improved it. Instead of "soger! hero!" I will have it "Caledonian! on wi' me!' I have scrutinized it over and over; and to the world some way or other it shall go as it is. At the same time it will not in the least hurt me, should you leave it out altogether, and adhere to your first intention of adopting Logan's verses.* * Mr Thomson has very properly adopted this song (if it may be so called) as the bard presented it to him. He has attached it to the air of Lewie Gordon, and perhaps among the existing airs he could not find a better; but the poetry is suited to a much higher strain of music, and may employ the genius of some Scottish Handel, if any such should in future arise. The reader will have observed, that Burns adopted the alterations proposed by his friend and correspondent in former instances, with great readiness; perhaps, indeed, on all indifferent occasions. In the present instance, however, he rejected them, though repeatedly urged, with determined resolution. With every respect for the judgment of Mr Thomson and his friends, we may be satisfied that he did so. He, who in preparing for an engagement, attempts to withdraw his imagination from images of death, will probably have but imperfect success, and is not fitted to stand in the ranks of battle, where the liberties of a kingdom are at issue. Of such men the conquerors of Ban I have finished my song to Saw in English, as you will see. too much for the expression ye my That there is a syllable of the air, is true; but Father? and allow me to say, that the mere dividing of a dotted nock-Burn were not composed. Bruce's troops were inured to war, and familiar with all its sufferings and dangers. On the eve of that memorable day, their spirits were, without doubt, wound up to a pitch of enthusiasm suited to the occasion: a pitch of enthusiasm, at which danger becomes attractive, and the most terrific forms of death are no longer terrible. Such a strain of sentiment, this heroic "welcome" may be supposed well calculated to elevate-to raise their hearts high above fear, and to nerve their arms to the utmost pitch of mortal exertion. These observations might be illustrated and supported by a re-. ference to the martial poetry of all nations, from the spirit-stirring strains of Tyrtæus, to the war-song of General Wolfe. Mr Thomson's observation, that "Welcome to your gory bed, is a discouraging address," seems not sufficiently considered. haps, indeed, it may be admitted, that the term gory is somewhat objectionable, not on account of it's presenting a frightful, but a disagreeable image to the mind. But a great poet, uttering his conceptions on an interesting occasion, seeks always to present a picture that is vivid, and is uniformly disposed to sacrifice the delicacies of taste on the altar of the imagination. And it is the privilege of superior genius, by producing a new association, to elevate expressions that were originally low, and thus to triumph over the deficiencies of language. In how many instances might this be exemplified from the works of our immortal Shakespeare: "Who would fardels bear, To groan and sweat under a weary life ;— When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin ?" Per It were easy to enlarge, but to suggest such reflections is probably sufficient. |