O happy be the woodbine bower, Nae nightly bogle make it eerie ; The place and time I met my dearie! The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae, Should you Bravo! say I: it is a good song. think so too (not else) you can set the music to it, and let the other follow, as English verses. Autumn is my propitious season. I make more verses in it, than in all the year else. God bless you! No. XXXV. Mr. BURNS to Mr. THOMSON. August, 1793. Is Whistle and I'll come to you my lad, one of your airs? I admire it much; and yesterday I set the following verses to it. Urbani, whom I have met with here, begged them of me, as he admires the air much: but as I understand that he looks with rather an evil eye on your work, I did not choose to comply. However, if the song does not suit your taste, I may possibly send it him. The set of the air which I had in my eye, is in Johnson's Museum. O whistle and I'll come to you, my lad*, But warily tent, when ye come to court me, O whistle, &'c. At kirk or at market whene'er ye meet me, O whistle, &c. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, O whistle, c. Another favourite air of mine, is, The muckin o' Geordie's byre. When sung slow with expression, I have wished that it had had better poetry: that I have endeavoured to supply, as follows. In some of the MSS. the four first lines run thus, O whistle and I'll come to thee, my jo, See also No. LXXVII. of this Correspondence. Adown winding Nith I did wander, To mark the sweet flowers as they spring; Adown winding Nith I did wander, Of Phillis to muse and to sing. Awa wi' your belles and your beauties, The daisy amus'd my fond fancy, The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer, How fair and how pure is the lily, Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour, Her voice is the song of the morning That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove, When Phoebus peeps over the mountains, Awa, &c. But beauty how frail and how fleeting, While worth in the mind o' my Phillis Mr. Clarke begs you to give Miss Phillis a corner in your book, as she is a particular flame of his. She is a Miss P. M. sister to Bonnie Jean. They are both pupils of his. You shall hear from me, the very first grist I get from my rhyming mill. No. XXXVI. Mr. BURNS to Mr. THOMSON. August, 1793. That tune, Cauld Kail, is such a favourite of yours, that I once more roved out yesterday for a gloamin-shot at the musest; when the muse that presides o'er the shores of Nith, or rather my old inspiring dearest nymph, Coila, whispered me the following. I have two reasons for thinking that it was my early, sweet, simple inspirer that was by my elbow, "smooth gliding without step," and pouring the song on my glowing fancy. In the first place, since I left Coila's native haunts, not a fragment of a poet has arisen to cheer her solitary musings, by catching inspiration from her; so I more than suspect that she has followed me hither, or at least makes me occasional visits : secondly, the last stanza of this song I send you, is *This song, certainly beautiful, would appear to more advantage without the chorus; as is indeed the case with several other songs of our author. E. + Gloamin-twilight, probably from glooming. A beautiful poetical word, which ought to be adopted in England. A gloamin-shot, a twilight-inter view, E. the very words that Coila taught me many years ago, and which I set to an old Scots reel in Johnson's Museum. Air-" Cauld Kail," Come let me take thee to my breast, The warld's wealth and grandeur : That I may live to love her. Thus in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, If you think the above will suit your idea of your favourite air, I shall be highly pleased. The last time I came o'er the Moor, I cannot meddle with, as to niending it; and the musical world have been so long accustomed to Ramsay's words, that a different song, though positively superior, would not be so well received. I am not fond of chorusses to songs, so I have not made one for the foregoing. |