So you have obtained liberty from the magistrates to erect a stone over Fergusson's grave? I do not doubt it; such things have been, as Shakspeare says, "in the olden-time:"

"The poet's fate, is here in emblem shown,
He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone."

It is, I believe, upon poor Butler's tomb that this is written. But how many brothers of Parnassus, as well as poor Butler and poor Fergusson, have asked for bread, and been served with the same sauce!

No. XXV.

TO MRS DUNLOP.

MADAM, Edinburgh, March 22, 1787. I READ your letter with watery eyes. A little, very little while ago, I had scarce a friend but the stubborn pride of my own bosom; now I am distinguished, patronized, befriended by you. Your friendly advices, I will not give them the cold name of criticisms, I receive with reverence. I have made some small alterations in what I before had printed. I have the advice of some very judicious friends among the literati here, but with them I sometimes find it necessary to claim the privilege of thinking for myself. The noble Earl of Glencairn, to whom I owe more than to any man, does me the honour of giving me his strictures: his hints with respect to impropriety or indelicacy, I follow implicitly.

You kindly interest yourself in my future views and prospects; there I can give you no light; it is all

"Dark as was chaos, ere the infant sun

Was roll'd together, or had tried his beams
Athwart the gloom profound."

The magistrates gave you liberty, did they? O generous magistrates! ***, celebrated over the three kingdoms for his public spirit, gives a poor poet liberty to raise a tomb to a poor poet's memory!-most generous! *** once upon a time gave that same poet the mighty sum of eighteen pence for a copy of his works. But then it must be considered that the poet was at this time absolutely starying, and besought his aid with all the earnestness of hunger; and, over and above, he received a worth, at least one-third of the value, in exchange, but which, I believe, the poet afterwards very ungratefully expunged. Next week I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in Edinburgh; and as my stay will be for eight or ten days, I wish you or would take a snug, well-aired bed-room for me, where I may have the pleasure of seeing you over a morning cup of tea. But by all accounts, it will be a matter of some difficulty to see you at all, unless your company is bespoke a week before-hand. There is a great rumour here concerning your great intimacy with the Duchess of —, and other ladies of distinction. I am really told that "cards to invite fly by thousands each night;" and, if you had one, I suppose there would also be "bribes to your old secretary." It seems you But these are all Utopian thoughts: I have are resolved to make hay while the sun shines, dallied long enough with life: 'tis time to be and avoid, if possible, the fate of poor Fer- in earnest. I have a fond, an aged mother to gusson,. Quærenda pe- care for; and some other bosom ties perhaps cunia primum est, virtus post nummos, is a good equally tender. Where the individual only maxim to thrive by: you seemed to despise it suffers by the consequences of his own thoughtwhile in this country; but probably some phi-lessness, indolence, or folly, he may be excuslosopher in Edinburgh has taught you better

sense.

Pray, are you yet engraving as well as printing? Are you yet seized

"With itch of picture in the front,

With bays of wicked rhyme upon't!"

But I must give up this trifling, and attend to matters that more concern myself: so, as the Aberdeen wit says, adieu dryly, we sal drink phan we meet.*

*The above extract is from a letter of one of the ablest of our poet's correspondents, which contains some interesting anecdotes of Fergusson, that we should have been happy to have inserted, if they could have been authenticated. The writer is mistaken in suppos

The appellation of a Scottish bard is by far my highest pride; to continue to deserve it is my most exalted ambition. Scottish scenes and Scottish story are the themes I could wish to sing. I have no dearer aim than to have it in my power, unplagued with the routine of business, for which heaven knows I am unfit enough, to make leisurely pilgrimages through Caledonia; to sit on the fields of her battles; to wander on the romantic banks of her rivers; and to muse by the stately towers or venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes.

able: nay, shining abilities, and some of the nobler virtues, may half-sanctify a heedless character: but where God and nature have intrusted the welfare of others to his care; where the trust is sacred, and the ties are dear, that man must be far gone in selfishness, or strangely lost to reflection, whom these connexions will not rouse to exertion.

I guess that I shall clear between two and three hundred pounds by my authorship; with that sum I intend, so far as I may be said to

ing the magistrates of Edinburgh had any share in the transaction respecting the monument erected for Fergusson by our bard; this, it is evident, passed between Burns and the Kirk Session of the Canongate. Neither at Edinburgh, nor anywhere else, do magistrates usually trouble themselves to inquire how the house of a poor poet is furnished, or how his grave is adorned.

Since I wrote the foregoing sheet, I have | for my copies, and incomparably more by the seen something of the storm of mischief thick- handsome compliments you are pleased to pay ening over my folly-devoted head. Should you, my friends, my benefactors, be successful in your applications for me, perhaps it may not be in my power in that way to reap the fruit of your friendly efforts. What I have written in the preceding pages is the settled tenor of my present resolution; but should inimical circumstances forbid me closing with your kind offer, or, enjoying it, only threaten to entail farther misery

To tell the truth, I have little reason for this last complaint, as the world, in general, has been kind to me, fully up to my deserts. I was, for some time past, fast getting into the pining distrustful snarl of the misanthrope. I saw myself alone, unfit for the struggle of life, shrinking at every rising cloud in the chancedirected atmosphere of fortune, while, all defenceless, I looked about in vain for a cover. It never occurred to me, at least never with the force it deserved, that this world is a busy scene, and man a creature destined for a progressive struggle; and that, however I might possess a warm heart and inoffensive manners (which last, by the bye, was rather more than I could well boast,) still, more than these passive qualities, there was something to be done. When all my school-fellows and youthful com peers (those misguided few excepted, who joined, to use a Gentoo phrase, the hallachores of the human race), were striking off with eager hope and earnest intent on some one or other of the many paths of busy life, I was "standing idle in the market place," or only left the chase of the butterfly from flower to flower, to hunt fancy from whim to whim.

my poetic abilities. I am fully persuaded that there is not any class of mankind so feelingly alive to the titillations of applause as the sons of Parnassus; nor is it easy to conceive how the heart of the poor bard dances with rapture, when those whose character in life gives them a right to be polite judges, honour him with their approbation. Had you been thoroughly acquainted with me, Madam, you could not have touched my darling heart-chord more sweetly than by noticing my attempts to celebrate your illustrious ancestor, the Saviour of his Country.

"Great, patriot hero! ill requited chief!”

The first book I met with in my early years, which I perused with pleasure, was The Life of Hannibal: the next was The History of Sir William Wallace: for several of my earlier years I had few other authors; and many a solitary hour have I stole out, after the laborious vocations of the day, to shed a tear over their glorious but unfortunate stories. In those boyish days I remember in particular being struck with that part of Wallace's story where these lines occur

"Syne to the Leglen wood, when it was late, To make a silent and a safe retreat."

I chose a fine summer Sunday, the only day my line of life allowed, and walked half a dozen of miles to pay my respects to the Leglen wood, with as much devout enthusiasm as ever pilgrim did to Loretto; and, as I explored every den and dell where I could suppose my heroic countryman to have lodged, I recollect (for even then I was a rhymer), that my heart glowed with a wish to be able to make a song on him in some measure equal to his merits.

No. IX.

TO MRS STEWART, OF STAIR.

MADAM,

1786.

THE hurry of my preparations for going abroad has hindered me from performing my promise so soon as I intended. I have here sent you a parcel of songs, &c. which never made their appearance, except to a friend or two at most. Perhaps some of them may be no great entertainment to you: but of that I am far from being an adequate judge. The song to the tune of Ettrick Banks, you will easily see the impropriety of exposing much even in manu. script. I think, myself, it has some merit, both as a tolerable description of one of Nature's sweetest scenes, a July evening, and one of the finest pieces of Nature's workmanship, the finest indeed we know any thing of,

an amiable, beautiful young woman;* but I have no common friend to procure me that permission, without which I would not dare to spread the copy.

too warmly approved; and I think I shall never open the book without feeling my astonishment renewed and increased. It was my wish to have expressed my approbation in verse; but whether from declining life, or a temporary depression of spirits, it is at present out of my power to accomplish that agreeable intention.

I am quite aware, madam, what task the world would assign me in this letter. The obscure bard, when any of the great condescend to take notice of him, should heap the altar with Mr Stewart, Professor of Morals in this the incense of flattery. Their high ancestry, University, had formerly read me three of the their own great and godlike qualities and ac- poems, and I had desired him to get my name tions, should be recounted with the most ex-inserted among the subscribers; but whether aggerated description. This, madam, is a task this was done, or not, I never could learn. I for which I am altogether unfit. Besides a have little intercourse with Dr Blair, but will certain disqualifying pride of heart, I know take care to have the poems communicated to nothing of your connections in life, and have him by the intervention of some mutual friend. no access to where your real character is to be It has been told me by a gentleman, to whom found the company of your compeers: and I showed the performances, and who sought a more, I am afraid that even the most refined copy with diligence and ardour, that the whole adulation is by no means the road to your good impression is already exhausted. It were, opinion. therefore, much to be wished, for the sake of the young man, that a second edition, more numerous than the former, could immediately be printed; as it appears certain that its intrinsic merit, and the exertion of the author's friends, might give it a more universal circulation than any thing of the kind which has been published within my memory.*

One feature of your character I shall ever with grateful pleasure remember-the reception I got, when I had the honour of waiting on you at Stair. I am little acquainted with politeness; but I know a good deal of benevolence of temper and goodness of heart. Surely, did those in exalted stations know how happy they could make some classes of their inferiors by condescension and affability, they would never stand so high, measuring out with every look the height of their elevation, but condescend as sweetly as did Mrs Stewart of Stair.†

No. X.

DR BLACKLOCK

ΤΟ

THE REVEREND MR G. LOWRIE. Ayrshire. I have been told you wished to be

REVEREND AND Dear sir,

I OUGHT to have acknowledged your favour long ago, not only as a testimony of your kind remembrance, but as it gave me an opportunity of sharing one of the finest, and, perhaps, one of the most genuine entertainments, of which the human mind is susceptible. A number of avocations retarded my progress in reading the poems; at last, however, I have finished that pleasing perusal. Many instances have I seen of Nature's force and beneficence exerted under numerous and formidable disadvantages; but none equal to that with which you have been kind enough to present me. There is a pathos and delicacy in his serious poems, a vein of wit and humour in those of a more festive turn, which cannot be too much admired, nor

*Miss A

The song enclosed is that given in the Life of our Poet; beginning,

'Twas e'en-the dewy fields were green, &c.

made a guager; I submit it to your consideration, whether it would not be more desirable, if a sum could be raised by subscription, for a second edition of your poems, to lay it out in the stocking of a small farm. I am persuaded it would be a line of life, much more agreeable to your feelings, and in the end more satisfactory. When you have considered this, let me know, and whatever you determine upon, I will endeavour to promote as far as my abilities will permit. With compliments to my friend the doctor. I am,

Your friend and well-wisher,

JOHN WHITEFORD.

P. S.-I shall take it as a favour when you at any time send me a new production.

*The reader will perceive that this is the letter which produced the determination of our Bard to give up his scheme of going to the West Indies, and to try the fate of a new edition of his poems in Edinburgh. A copy of this letter was sent by Mr Lowrie to Mr G. Hamilton, and by him communicated to Burns, among whose papers it was found.

No. XV.

TO MRS DUNLOP.

MADAM, Edinburgh, 15th January, 1787. YOURS of the 9th current, which I am this moment honoured with, is a deep reproach to me for ungrateful neglect. I will tell you the real truth, for I am miserably awkward at a fib: I wished to have written to Dr Moore before I wrote to you; but though, every day since I received yours of December 30th, the idea, the wish to write him, has constantly pressed on my thoughts, yet I could not for my soul set about it. I know his fame and character, and I am one of "the sons of little men." To write him a mere matter-of-fact affair, like a merchant's order, would be disgracing the little character I have; and to write the author of The View of Society and Manners a letter of sentiment-I declare every artery runs cold at the thought. I shall try, however, to write him to-morrow or next day. His kind interposition in my behalf I have already experienced, as a gentleman waited on me the other day, on the part of Lord Eglinton, with ten guineas by way of subscription for two copies of my next edition.

observation, with all my imperfections of awkward rusticity and crude unpolished ideas on my head-I assure you, madam, I do not dissemble when I tell you I tremble for the consequences. The novelty of a poet in my ob. scure situation, without any of those advantages which are reckoned necessary for that character, at least at this time of day, has raised a partial tide of public notice, which has borne me to a height where I am absolutely, feelingly certain, my abilities are inadequate to support me; and too surely do I see that time when the same tide will leave me, and recede, perhaps, as far below the mark of truth.

Your patronising me, and interesting yourself in my fame and character as a poet, I rejoice in; it exalts me in my own idea; and whether you can or cannot aid me in my subscription is a trifle. Has a paltry subscriptionbill any charms to the heart of a bard, compared with the patronage of the descendant of the immortal Wallace?

No. XVI.

TO DR MOORE.

1787.

The word you object to in the mention I have made of my glorious countryman and your immortal ancestor, is indeed borrowed from Thomson; but it does not strike me as SIR, an improper epithet. I distrusted my own MRS DUNLOP has been so kind as to send me judgment on your finding fault with it, and ap- extracts of letters she has had from you, where plied for the opinion of some of the Literati you do the rustic bard the honour of noticing here, who honour me with their critical stric-him and his works. Those who have felt the tures, and they all allow it to be proper. The song you ask I cannot recollect, and I have not a copy of it. I have not composed any thing on the great Wallace, except what you have seen in print, and the enclosed, which I will print in this edition. You will see I have mentioned some others of the name. When I composed my Vision, long ago, I had attempted a description of Kyle, of which the additional stanzas are a part, as it originally stood. My heart glows with a wish to be able to do justice to the merits of the Saviour of his Country, which, sooner or later, I shall at least attempt.

anxieties and solicitudes of authorship, can only know what pleasure it gives to be noticed in such a manner by judges of the first character. Your criticisms, sir, I receive with reverence; only, I am sorry they mostly came too late; a peccant passage or two, that I would certainly have altered, were gone to the press.

The hope to be admired for ages is, in by far the greater part of those even who are authors of repute, an unsubstantial dream. For my part, my first ambition was, and still my strongest wish is, to please my compeers, the rustic inmates of the hamlet, while ever changing language and manners shall allow me to be You are afraid I shall grow intoxicated with relished and understood. I am very willing to my prosperity as a poet. Alas! madam, I admit that I have some poetical abilities; and know myself and the world too well. I do not as few, if any writers, either moral or poetical, mean any airs of affected modesty; I am wil are intimately acquainted with the classes of ing to believe that my abilities deserved some mankind among whom I have chiefly mingled, notice; but in a most enlightened, informed I may have seen men and manners in a differ age and nation, when poetry is and has been ent phasis from what is common, which may the study of men of the first natural genius, assist originality of thought. Still I know aided with all the powers of polite learning, very well the novelty of my character has by polite books, and polite company-to be drag-far the greatest share in the learned and polite ged forth to the full glare of learned and polite

* Stanzas in the Vision, beginning third stanza,

66

notice I have lately had; and in a language where Pope and Churchill have raised the laugh, and Shenstone and Gray drawn the tear

stately tower or palace fair," and ending with the first-where Thomson and Beattie have painted the landscape, and Lyttleton and Collins de

duan.