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 Craigie burn Wood; and, in the opinion of Mr. Clarke, is one of the sweetest Scottish songs. He is quite an enthusiast about it: and I would take his taste in Scottish music against the taste of most connois

seurs.

You are quite right in inserting the last five in your list, though they are certainly Irish. Shep

herds, I have lost my love! is to me a heavenly air-what would you think of a set of Scottish verses to it? I have made one to it a good while ago, which I think * * * * * but

in its original state is not quite a lady's song. I enclose an altered, not amended copy for you, if you choose to set the tune to it, and let the Irish verses follow.

Mr. Erskine's songs are all pretty, but his Lone Vale is divine.

Yours, &c.

Let me know just how you like these random

hints.

No. 167.

MR. THOMSON TO MR. BURNS.

Edinburgh, April, 1793.

I REJOICE to find, my dear Sir, that ballad making 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.'

of

I know there are a good many lively songs 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.*

No. 168.

MR. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON.

April, 1793.

I HAVE yours, my dear Sir, this moment. I shall answer it and your former letter, in my desultory way of saying whatever comes uppermost.

The business of many of our tunes wanting, at the beginning, what fiddlers call a starting-note, is often a rub to us poor rhymers.

'There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
That wander thro' the blooming heather.'

you may alter to

'Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
Ye wander, &c.

My song, Here awa, there awa, as amended by Mr. Erskine, I entirely approve of, and return you.t

The original letter from Mr. Thomson contains many observations on the Scottish songs, and on the manner of adapting the words to the music, which, at his desire, are suppressed. The subsequent letter of Mr. Burns refers to several of these observations.

The reader has already seen that Burns did not finally adopt all of Mr. Erskine's alterations.

Give me leave to criticise your taste in the only thing in which it is in my opinion reprehensible. You know I ought to know something of my own trade. Of pathos, sentiment, and point, you are a complete judge; but there is a quality more necessary than either, in a song, and which is the very essence of a ballad, I mean simplicity: now, if I mistake not, this last feature you are a little apt to sacrifice to the foregoing.

Ramsay, as every other poet, has not been always equally happy in his pieces; still I cannot approve of taking such liberties with an author as Mr. W. proposes doing with The last time I came o'er the moor. Let a poet, if he chooses, take up the idea of another, and work it into a piece of his own; but to mangle the works of the poor bard, whose tuneful tongue is now mute for ever, in the dark and narrow house; by heaven 'twould be sacrilege! I grant that Mr. W.'s version is an improvement; but I know Mr. W. well, and esteem him much; let him mend the song, as a Highlander mended his gun :-he gave it a new stock, gun:-he a new lock, and a new barrel.

I do not by this, object to leaving out improper stanzas, where that can be done without spoiling the whole. One stanza in The Lass o' Patie's Mill must be left out: the song will be nothing worse for it. I am not sure if we can take the same liberty with Corn rigs are bonnie. Perhaps it might want the last stanza, and be the better for it. Cauld kail in Aberdeen you must leave with me yet a while. I have vowed to have a song to that air, on the lady whom I attempted to celebrate in the verses, Poortith cauld and rest

less love. At any rate my other song, Green grow the rashes, will never suit. That song is current in Scotland under the old title, and to the merry old tune of that name, which of course would mar the progress of your song to celebrity. Your book will be the standard of Scots songs for the future: let this idea ever keep your judgment on the alarm.

I send a song, on a celebrated toast in this country, to suit Bonnie Dundee. I send you also a ballad to the Mill mill O.

soon.

The last time I came o'er the moor, I would fain attempt to make a Scots song for, and let Ramsay's be the English set. You shall hear from me When you go to London on this business, can you come by Dumfries? I have still several MSS Scots airs by me which I have pickt up, mostly from the singing of country lasses. They please me vastly; but your learned lugs would perhaps be displeased with the very feature for which I like them. I call them simple; you would pronounce them silly. Do you know a fine air called Jackie Hume's Lament? I have a song of considerable merit to that air. I'll enclose you both the song and tune, as I had them ready to send to Johnson's Museum.* I send you likewise, to me, a beautiful little air, which I had taken down from viva voce.†

Adieu !

The song here mentioned, is 'O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten.'-See Poems, p. 395.

+ The air here mentioned is that for which he wrote the ballad of 'Bonnie Jean.'-See Poems, p. 402.