my taste, but I am so often tired, disgust- | under the apostle James's description !— ed, and hurt, with the insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a person" after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox protestant would call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy like inspiration; and I can no more desist rhyming on the impulse, than an Eolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air. A distich or two would be the consequence, though the object which hit my fancy were graybearded age: but where my theme is youth and beauty, a young lady whose personal charms, wit, and sentiment, are equally striking and unaffected, by heavens! though I had lived threescore years a married man, and threescore years before I was a married man, my imagination would hallow the very idea; and I am truly sorry that the enclosed stanzas have done such poor justice to such a subject. No. LXII. FROM MR. G. BURNS. Mossgiel, 1st Jan. 1789. DEAR BROTHER, I HAVE just finished my new-year's day breakfast in the usual form, which naturally makes me call to mind the days of former years, and the society in which we used to begin them: and when I look at our family vicissitudes, "thro' the dark postern of time long elapsed," I cannot help remarking to you, my dear brother, how good the GOD OF SEASONS is to us, and that, however some clouds may seem to lower over the portion of time before us, we have great reason to hope that all will turn out well. Your mother and sisters, with Robert the second, join me in the compliments of the season to you and Mrs. Burns, and beg you will remember us in the same manner to William, the first time you see him. I am, dear brother, yours, GILBERT BURNS. No. LXIII. TO MRS. DUNLOP. Ellisland, New-Year-Day Morning. THIS, dear Madam, is a morning of wishes; and would to God that I came the prayer of a righteous man availeth much. In that case, Madam, you should welcome in a year full of blessings: every thing that obstructs or disturbs tranquillity and self-enjoyment, should be removed and every pleasure that frail humanity can taste should be yours. I own myself so little a presbyterian, that I approve of set times and seasons of more than ordinary acts of devotion, for breaking in on that habituated routine of life and thought which is so apt to reduce our existence to a kind of instinct, or even sometimes, and with some minds, to a state very little superior to mere machinery. This day, the first Sunday of May, a breezy blue-skyed noon, some time about the beginning, and a hoary morning and calm sunny day about the end of autumn; these, time out of mind, have been with me a kind of holiday. I believe I owe this to that glorious paper in the Spectator, "The Vision of Mirza;" a piece that struck my young fancy before I was capable of fixing an idea to a word of three syllables," On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed myself, and offered up my morning devotions, I ascended the high hill of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer." We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the substance or structure of our souls, so cannot account for those seeming caprices in them, that one should be parwith that, which, on minds of a different ticularly pleased with this thing, or struck cast, makes no extraordinary impression. I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the hare-bell, the fox-glove, the wild-brierrose, the budding-birch, and the hoaryhawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight. I never heard the loud solitary whistle of the curlew in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of gray plover in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing. Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the Eolian harp passive, takes the impression of the pass ing accident? Or do these workings | The worst of it is, by the time one has argue something within us above the trod- finished a piece, it has been so often view den clod? I own myself partial to such ed and reviewed before the mental eye, proofs of those awful and important re- that one loses, in a good measure, the alities-a GoD that made all things-powers of critical discrimination. Here man's immaterial and immortal natureand a world of weal or wo beyond death and the grave. No. LXIV. TO DR. MOORE. Ellisland, near Dumfries, 4th Jan. 1789. SIR, As often as I think of writing to you, which has been three or four times every week these six months, it gives me something so like the look of an ordinary sized statue offering at a conversation with the Rhodian colossus, that my mind misgives me, and the affair always miscarries somewhere between purpose and resolve. I have, at last, got some business with you, and business-letters are written by the style-book. I say my business is with you, Sir, for you never had any with me, except the business that benevolence has in the mansion of poverty. The character and employment of a poet were formerly my pleasure, but are now my pride. I know that a very great deal of my late eclat was owing to the singularity of my situation, and the honest prejudice of Scotsmen; but still, as I said in the preface to my first edition, I do look upon myself as having some pretensions from Nature to the poetic character. I have not a doubt but the knack, the aptitude to learn the Muses' trade, is a gift bestowed by Him, "who forms the secret bias of the soul;"-but I as firmly believe, that excellence in the profession is the fruit of industry, labour, attention, and pains. At least I am resolved to try my doctrine by the test of experience. Another appearance from the press I put off to a very distant day, a day that may never arrive-but poesy I am determined to prosecute with all my vigour. Nature has given very few, if any, of the profession, the talents of shining in every species of composition. I shall try (for until trial it is impossible to know) whether she has qualified me to shine in any onc. the best criterion I know is a friend-not only of abilities to judge, but with goodnature enough, like a prudent teacher with a young learner, to praise, perhaps, a little more than is exactly just, lest the thin-skinned animal fall into that most deplorable of all poetic diseases—heartbreaking despondency of himself. Dare I, Sir, already immensely indebted to your goodness, ask the additional obligation of your being that friend to me? I enclose you an essay of mine in a walk of poesy to me entirely new; I mean the epistle addressed to R. G. Esq. or Robert Graham, of Fintry, Esq. a gentleman of uncommon worth, to whom I lie under very great obligations. The story of the poem, like most of my poems, is connected with my own story; and to give you the one I must give you something of the other. I cannot boast of— I believe I shall, in whole, 1007. copyright included, clear about 4007. some little odds; and even part of this de pends upon what the gentleman has yet to settle with me. I give you this information, because you did me the honour to interest yourself much in my wel fare. To give the rest of my story in brief, I have married "my Jean," and taken a farm: with the first step, I have every day more and more reason to be satisfied with the last, it is rather the reverse. I have a younger brother who supports my aged mother; another still younger bro ther, and three sisters, in a farm. On my last return from Edinburgh, it cost me about 180l. to save them from ruin. Not that I have lost so much-I only interposed between my brother and his impending fate by the loan of so much. I give myself no airs on this, for it was mere selfishness on my part: I was conscious that the wrong scale of the balance was pretty heavily charged; and I thought that throwing a little filial piety, and fraternal affection, into the scale in my favour, might help to smooth matters at the grand reckoning. There is still one thing would make my circumstances quite easy: I have an excise-officer's commission, and I live in the midst of a country division. My request to Mr. Graham, who is one of the commissioners of excise, was, if in his power, to procure me that division. If I were very sanguine, I might hope that some of my great patrons might procure me a treasury warrant for supervisor, surveyor-general, &c. Thus secure of a livelihood, "to thee, sweet poetry, delightful maid!" I would consecrate my future days. Need I make any apology for this trouble to a gentleman who has treated me with such marked benevolence and peculiar kindness; who has entered into my interests with so much zeal, and on whose critical decisions I can so fully depend? A poet as I am by trade, these decisions to me are of the last consequence. My late transient acquaintance among some of the mere rank and file of greatness, I resign with ease; but to the distinguished champions of genius and learning, I shall be ever ambitious of being known. The native genius and accurate discernment in Mr. Stewart's critical strictures; the justness (iron justice, for he has no bowels of compassion for a poor poetic sinner) of Dr. Gregory's remarks, and the delicacy of Professor Dalzel's taste, I shall ever revere. I shall be in Edinburgh some time next month. I have the honour to be, Sir, And very humble servant, No. XLV. TO PROFESSOR D. STEWART. Ellisland, near Dumfries, 20th Jan. 1789. SIR, THE enclosed sealed packet I sent to Edinburgh a few days after I had the happiness of meeting you in Ayrshire, but you were gone for the Continent. I have added a few more of my productions, those No. LXVI. TO BISHOP GEDDES. for which I am indebted to the Nithsdale Ellisland, near Dumfries, 3d Feb. 1789 VENERABLE FATHER, As I am conscious, that wherever am, you do me the honour to interes. yourself in my welfare, it gives me pleasure to inform you that I am here at last stationary in the serious business of life, and have now not only the retired leisure but the hearty inclination to attend to those great and important questionswhat I am? where I am? and for what I am destined? Muses. The piece inscribed to R. G. Esq. is a copy of verses I sent Mr. Graham, of Fintry, accompanying a request for his assistance in a matter, to me, of very great moment. To that gentleman I am already doubly indebted, for deeds of kindness of serious import to my dearest interests, done in a manner grateful to the delicate feelings of sensibility. This poem is a species of composition new to me; but I do not intend it shall be my last essay of the kind, as you will see by the "Poet's Progress." These fragments, if my design succeeds, are but a small part of the intended whole. I propose it shall be the In that first concern, the conduct of the work of my utmost exertions ripened by man, there was ever but one side on which years of course I do not wish it much I was habitually blameable, and there I known. The fragment, beginning "A have secured myself in the way pointed little, upright, pert, tart," &c. I have not out by Nature and Nature's GOD. I was shown to man living, till now I send it sensible that, to so helpless a creature as you. It forms the postulata, the axioms, a poor poet, a wife and family were enthe definition of a character, which, if it cumbrances, which a species of prudence appear at all, shall be placed in a variety would bid him shun; but when the alterof lights. This particular part I send you native was, being at eternal warfare with merely as a sample of my hand at portrait-myself, on account of habitual follies to sketching; but lest idle conjecture should give them no wore name, which no genepretend to point out the original, please ral example, no licentious wit, no sophislet it be for your single, sole inspection.tical infidelity, would to me, ever justify I must have been a foo. ted, and a madman to have made another choice. In the affair of a livelihood, I think my self tolerably secure: I have good hopes of my farm; but should they fail, I have an excise commission, which on my simple petition, will at any time procure me bread. There is a certain stigma affixed to the character of an excise officer, but I do not intend to borrow honour from any profession; and though the salary be comparatively small, it is great to any thing that the first twenty-five years of my life taught me to expect. Thus, with a rational aim and method in life, you may easily guess, my reverend and much-honoured friend, that my_characteristical trade is not forgotten. I am, if possible, more than ever an enthusiast to the Muses. I am determined to study man, and nature, and in that view incessantly; and to try if the ripening and corrections of years can enable me to produce something worth preserving. have hesita- | the author of the verses which accompany this letter. He was a man highly respectable for every accomplishment and virtue which adorns the character of a man or a christian. To a great degree of literature, of taste, and poetic genius, was added an invincible modesty of temper, which prevented in a great degree, his figuring in life, and confined the perfect knowledge of his character and ta lents to the small circle of his chosen friends. He was untimely taken from us, a few weeks ago, by an inflammatory fever, in the prime of life-beloved by all who enjoyed his acquaintance, and lament ed by all who have any regard for virtue and genius. There is a wo pronounced in Scripture against the person whom al! men speak well of; if ever that wo fel. upon the head of mortal man, it fell upon him. He has left behind him a considerable number of compositions, chiefly po etical, sufficient, I imagine, to make a large octavo volume. In particular, two complete and regular tragedies, a farce of three acts, and some smaller poems on different subjects. It falls to my share, who have lived in the most intimate and uninterrupted friendship with him from my youth upwards, to transmit to you the verses he wrote on the publication of your incomparable poems. It is probable they were his last, as they were found in his scrutoire, folded up with the form of a letter addressed to you, and, I imagine were only prevented from being sent by himself, by that melancholy dispensation which we still bemoan. The verses themselves I will not pretend to criticise when writing to a gentleman whom I consider as entirely qualified to judge of their me rit. They are the only verses he seems to have attempted in the Scottish style; and I hesitate not to say, in general, that they will bring no dishonour on the Scot tish muse; and allow me to add, that, if it is your opinion they are not unworthy of the author, and will be no discredit to you, it is the inclination of Mr Mylne's friends that they should be im mediately published in some periodical work, to give the world a specimen of what may be expected from his performances in the poetic line, which, perhaps, will be afterwards published for the advantage of his family. You will see in your book, which I beg your pardon for detaining so long, that I have been tuning my lyre on the banks of Nith. Some large poetic plans that are floating in my imagination, or partly put in execution, I shall impart to you when I have the pleasure of meeting with you: which, if you are then in Edinburgh, I shall have about the beginning of March. That acquaintance, worthy Sir, with which you were pleased to honour me, you must still allow me to challenge; for with whatever unconcern I give up my transient connexion with the merely great, I cannot lose the patronizing notice of the learned and good, without the bitterest regret. No. LXVII. FROM THE REV. P. CARFRAE. SIR, 2d Jan. 1789. Ir you have lately seen Mrs. Dunlop, I must beg, the favour of a letter from of Dunlop, you have certainly heard of you, acknowledging the receipt of this: and to be allowed to subscribe myself, | creature itself requires; as a measuring with great regard, Sir, your most obedient servant, P. CARFRAE. No. LXVIII TO MRS. DUNLOP. Ellisland, 4th March, 1789. HERE am I, my honoured friend, returned safe from the capital. To a man who has a home, however humble or remote-if that home is like mine, the scene of domestic comfort-the bustle of Edinburgh will soon be a business of sickening disgust. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate you." glance at its towering altitude would de termine the affair like instinct. Your are right, Madam, in your idea of poor Mylne's poem, which he has addressed to me. The piece has a good deal of merit, but it has one great fault -it is, by far, too long. Besides, my success has encouraged such a shoal of ill-spawned monsters to crawl into public notice, under the title of Scottish Poets, that the very term Scottish Poetry borders on the burlesque. When I write to Mr. Carfrae, I shall advise him rather to try one of his deceased friend's English pieces. I am prodigiously hurried with my own matters, else I would have requested a perusal of all Mylne's poetic performances; and would have offered his friends my assistance in either selecting or correcting what would be proper for the press. What it is that occupies me so much, and perhaps a little oppresses my present spirits, shall fill up a paragraph in some future letter. In the mean time, allow me to close this epistle with a few lines done by a friend of mine ****. I give you them, that, as you have seen the original, you may guess whether one or two alterations I have ventured to make in them, be any real improvement. When I must skulk into a corner, lest the rattling equipage of some gaping blockhead should mangle me in the mire, I am tempted to exclaim-" What merits has he had, or what demerit have I had, in some state of pre-existence, that he is ushered into this state of being with the sceptre of rule, and the key of riches in his puny fist, and I am kicked into the world, the sport of folly, or the victim of pride?" I have read somewhere of a monarch (in Spain I think it was,) who was so out of humour with the Ptolemean system of astronomy, that he said, had he been of the CREATOR'S Council, he could have saved him a great deal of labour and absurdity. I will not defend this blasphemous speech; but often, as I have glided with humble stealth through the pomp of Prince's street, it has suggested itself to me, as an improvement on the present human figure, that a man, in proportion to his own conceit of his consequence in the world, could have pushed out the longitude of his common size, as a snail pushes out his horns, or as we draw out a perspective. This trifling alteration, not to mention the prodigious, saving it would be in the tear and wear of the neck and limb-sinews of many of his majesty's liege subjects, in the way of tossing the head and tiptoe-strutting, would evidently turn out a vast advantage, in felt enabling us at once to adjust the ceremonials in making a bow, or making way to a great man, and that too within a second of the precise spherical angle of reverence, or an inch of the particular point of respectful distance, which the important Like the fair plant that from our touch withdraws, No. LXIX. TO THE REV. P. CARFRAE REVEREND SIR, 1789 I Do not recollect that I have ever a severer pang of shame, than on looking at the date of your obliging letter which accompanied Mr. Mylne's poem. These beautiful lines, we have reason to believe, are the production of the lady to whom this letter is ad dressed. E. |