Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, III. O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? Or canst thou break that heart of his Whase only faut is loving thee? If love for love thou wilt na gie, At least be pity to me shown; A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison. MY DEAR SIR: The song prefixed is one of my juvenile works. I leave it in your hands. I do not think it very remarkable, either for its merits or demerits. It is impossible (at least I feel it so in my stinted powers) to be always original, entertaining, and witty. What is become of the list, &c., of your songs? I shall be out of all temper with you by-and-by. I have always looked on myself as the prince of indolent correspondents, and valued myself accordingly; and I will not, cannot, bear rivalship from you, nor any body else. Ř. B. [The idea of "Wandering Willie" is taken from an old song published by Herd, which commences in these words: "Here awa, there awa, here awa, Willie, Here awa, there awa', here awa hame; Through the lang muir I have followed my Willie, Love now rewards all my sorrow and pain." Older words than these may still be heard "lilted" by a shepherd lad or lass on a pasture hill, or in some sequestered glen :— "Gin that ye meet my love, kiss her and clap her, An' gin ye meet my love, dinna think shame: And show her the way to haud away hame." Burns is said to have been the lovely and The heroine of the "Wandering Willie" of accomplished Mrs. Riddel.] No. XV. BURNS TO G. THOMSON. No. XVI. BURNS TO G. THOMSON. Young Jessie. Tune-Bonnie Dundee. I. TRUE-hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow, And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr, But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river, Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair: To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over; To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain; Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover, And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. II. O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning, [Jesse Staig, the heroine of this song, was the daughter of Provost Staig of Dumfries, and married to Major Miller, the second son of the Laird of Dalswinton. She died in early life, and is still affectionately remembered in her native valley-the memory of beauty and gentleness is long passing away.] [Thomson and Erskine, it seems, sat in judgment upon 'Wandering Willie," and, in harmonizing it to the air, squeezed much of the poetic spirit out:-they re-produced it in these words : "Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame; Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie, Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers, VAR.-Wauken. R. B. No. XVII. G. THOMSON TO BURNS. Edinburgh, 2nd April, 1793. I WILL not recognise the title you give yourself, "the prince of indolent correspondents;" but if the adjective were taken away, I think the title would then fit you exactly. It gives me pleasure to find 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 believe will be found nearly complete. I have put down the first lines of all the English songs which I propose giving in addition to the Scotch verses. If any others occur to you, better adapted to the character of the airs, pray mention them, when you favour me with your strictures upon every thing else relating to the work. Pleyel has lately sent me a number of the songs, with his symphonies and accompaniments added to them. I wish you were here, that I might serve up some of them to you with your own verses, by way of dessert after dinner. There is so much delightful fancy in the symphonies, and such a delicate simplicity in the accompaniments-they are, indeed, beyond all praise. I am very much pleased with the several last productions of your muse: your "Lord Gregory," in my estimation, is more interesting than Peter's, beautiful as his is. Your "Here awa, Willie," must undergo some alterations to suit the air. Mr. Erskine and I have been conning it over: he will suggest what is necessary to make them a fit match. 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. G. T. But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, While dying I think that my Willie's my ain." Burns, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The "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. Homeric 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 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 awa, 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."-CURRIE.] VAR.-Wide-roaring.-MS-R. B. VAR. But dying believe.-MS.-R. B. No. XVIII. BURNS TO G. THOMSON. The poor and honest Sodger. Air-The Mill, Mill, O! I. WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn, And mony a widow mourning ;* II. A leal, light heart was in my breast, I thought upon the banks o' Coil, III. At length I reach'd the bonny glen I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn, IV. Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, Sweet lass, O! happy, happy may he be, My purse is light, I've far to gang, I've serv'd my king and country lang- V. Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, And lovelier was || than ever; Quo' she, a sodger ance I lo'ed, Forget him shall I never: "And eyes again with pleasure beam'd, † VAR. And ay I min't.-MS. "Beneath a green shade, I fand a fair maid Was sleeping sound and still, O; A' lowing wi' love, my fancy did rove The four concluding lines belong to an older lyric: "O the mill, mill, O, and the kiln, kiln, O! And the coggin o' the wheel, O; The sack and the sieve a' thae ye maun leave, "It is alleged by some," says Geddes, in his Saint's Recreation, written in 1760-and not without some colour of reason," that many of our good airs or tunes are made by good angels, No. XIX. BURNS TO G. THOMSON. 7th April, 1793. THANK you, my dear Sir, for your packet. You cannot imagine how much this business of composing for your publication has added to my enjoyments. What with my early attachment to ballads, your book, &c., ballad-making is now as completely my hobby-horse as ever fortification was Uncle Toby's; so I'll e'en canter it away till I come to the limit of my race (God grant that I may take the right side of the winning-post!), and then, cheerfully looking back on the honest folks with whom I have been happy, I shall ay, or sing, "Sae merry as we a' hae been," and, raising my last looks to the whole human race, the last words of the voice of Coila shall be "Good night, and joy be wi' you a'!" So much for my words: now for a few present remarks, as they have occurred at random on looking over your list. last The first lines of "The last time I came o'er the moor," and several other lines in it, are beautiful; but in my opinion-pardon me, revered shade of Ramsay! the song is unworthy of the divine air. I shall try to make or mend. "For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove," is a charming song; but "Logan Burn and Logan Braes" are sweetly susceptible of rural imagery: I'll try that likewise, and, if I succeed, the other song may class among the English ones. I remember the two last lines of a verse in some of the old songs of "Logan Water" (for I know a good many different ones), which I think pretty : 66 This is surely far unworthy of Ramsay, or your book. My song, Rigs of Barley," to the same tune, does not altogether please me; but if I can mend it and thrash a few loose sentiments out of it, I will submit it to your consideration. "The Lass o' Patie's Mill" is loose sentiment in it, which my much-valued one of Ramsay's best songs; but there is one consideration. In Sir J. Sinclair's Statistical friend, Mr. Erskine, will take into his critical volumes are two claims; one, I think, from Aberdeen-shire, and the other from Ayr-shire, for the honour of this song. anecdote, which I had from the present Sir The following William Cunningham, of Robertland, who had it of the late John, Earl of Loudon, I can, on such authorities, believe : Allan Ramsay was residing at Loudon castle with the then Earl, father to Earl John; and one forenoon, riding, or walking out together, his Lordship and Allan passed a sweet, romantic spot on Irvine Water, still called "Patie's Mill," where a bonnie lass was " tedding hay, bare-headed, on the green." My Lord observed to Allan that it would be a fine theme for a song. Ramsay took the hint, and lingering behind, he composed the first sketch of it, which he produced at dinner. "One day I heard Mary say," is a fine song; but, for consistency's sake, alter the name "Adonis." Were there ever such banns published as a purpose of marriage between Adonis and Mary? I agree with you that my song, "There nought but care on every hand," is much superior to "Poortith cauld." The original song, "The Mill, Mill, O," though excellent, is, on account of delicacy, inadmissible; still I like the title, and think a Scottish song would suit the notes best; and let your chosen song, which is very pretty, follow, as an English set. "The banks of the Dee" is, you know, literally, "Langolee," to slow time. The song is well enough, but has some false imagery in it; for instance, "And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree.” In the first place, the nightingale sings in a low bush, but never from a tree; and in the second place, there never was a nightingale seen, or heard, on the banks of the Dee, or on the banks of any other river in Scotland. Exotic rural imagery is always comparatively flat. If I could hit on another stanza, equal to "The small birds rejoice," &c. I do myself honestly avow that I think it a superior song." "John Anderson, my Jo," the song to this tune in Johnson's Museum is my composition, and I think it not my worst: if it suit you, take it and welcome. Your collection of sentimental and pathetic songs is, in my opinion, very complete; but not so your comic ones. Where are "Tullochgorum," "" Lumps o' puddin'," "Tibbie Fowler," and several others, which, in my humble judgment, are well worthy of preservation? There is also one sentimental song of mine in the Museum, which never was known out of the immediate neighbourhood, until I got it taken down from a country girl's singing. It is called "Craigieburn Wood;" and, in the opinion of Mr. Clarke, is one of the sweetest Scottish songs. quite an enthusiast about it; and I would take his taste in Scottish music against the taste of most connoisseurs. He is You are quite right in inserting the last five in your list, though they are certainly Irish. • ["It will be found in the course of this correspondence that the Bard produced a second stanza of The Chevalier's [In this letter Burns calls himself the voice of Coila, in imitation of Ossian, who denomi nates himself the voice of Cona. He was an ardent admirer of the Celtic bard, and carried his poems frequently about with him. "Se merry as we twa hae been," and "Good night, and joy be wi' you a'," are the names of two northern tunes. The lyric written to the tune of "Shepherds, I have lost my love," is elsewhere given under the name of "The gowden locks of Anna." Thomson, it appears, did not approve of the song, even in its amended state: it has however, obtained the approbation of a divine of the kirk of Scotland, and laymen need no longer hesitate in singing it. It is highly cha racteristic of our Bard.] No. XX. G. THOMSON TO BURNS. Edinburgh, April, 1793. I REJOICE to find, my dear Sir, that balladmaking continues to be your hobby-horse.— Great pity 'twould be were it otherwise. I hope you will amble it away for many a year. and "witch the world with your horsemanship." I know there are a good many lively songs of merit that I have not put down in the list sent you; but I have them all in my eye."My Patie is a lover gay," though a little unequal, is a natural and very pleasing song, and I humbly think we ought not to displace or alter it, except the last stanza. |