advantage I have in this business, is the knowledge it gives me of the various shades of human character, consequently assisting me vastly in my poetic pursuits. I had the most ardent enthusiasm for the muses when nobody knew me but myself, and that ardour is by no means cooled, now that my Lord Glencairn's goodness has introduced me to all the world. Not that I am in haste for the press. I have no idea of publishing, else I certainly had consulted my noble generous patron; but after acting the part of an honest man, and supporting my family, my whole wishes and views are directed to poetic pursuits. I am aware that, though I were to give performances to the world superior to my former works; still, if they were of the same kind with those, the comparative reception they would meet with, would nortify me. I have turned my thoughts on the drama. I do not mean the stately buskin of the tragic muse. Does not your ladyship think that an Edinburgh theatre would be more amused with affectation, folly, and whim of true Scottish growth, than manuers, which by far the greatest part of the audience can only know at second hand? I have the honour to be, your ladyship's ever devoted and grateful humble servant, NO. CCLXXXVIII. R. B. MR. THOMSON TO BURNS. Edinburgh, Sept. 1st, 1793. MY DEAR SIR-Since writing you last, I have received half a dozen songs, with which I am delighted beyond expression. The humour and fancy of "Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad," will render it nearly as great a favourite as "Duncan Gray" "Come, let me take thee to my breast," "Adown winding Nith," and "By Allan stream," &c., are full of imagination and feeling, and sweetly suit the airs for which they are intended. "Had I a cave on some wild distant shore," is a striking and affecting composition. Our friend, to whose story it refers, reads it with a swelling heart, I assure you. The union we are now forming, I think, can never be broken; these songs of yours will descend, with the music, to the latest posterity, and will be fondly cherished so long as genius, taste, and sensibility, exist in our island. Whilst the muse seems so propitious, I think it right to enclose a list of all the favours I have to ask of her-no fewer than twenty and three! I have burdened the pleasant Peter with as many as it is probable he will attend to; most of the remaining airs would puzzle the English poet not a little-they are of that peculiar measure and rhythm, that they must be familiar to him who writes for them. NO. CCLXXXIX. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON. Sept., 1793. You may readily trust, my dear Sir, that any exertion in my power is heartily at your service. But one thing I must hint to you; the very name of Peter Pindar is of great service to your publication, so get a verse from him now and then; though I have no objection, as well as I can, to bear the burden of the business. You know that my pretensions to musical taste are merely a few of nature's instincts, untaught and untutored by art. For this reason, many musical compositions, particularly where much of the merit lies in counterpoint, however they may transport and ravish the ears of you connoisseurs, affect my simple lug no otherwise than merely as melodious din. On the other hand, by way of amends, I am delighted with many little melodies, which the learned musician despises as silly and insipid. I do not know whether the old air, "Hey tuttie taitie," may rank among this number; but well I know that, with Frazer's hautboy, it has often filled my There is a tradition, which eyes with tears. I have met with in many places in Scotland, that it was Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannockburn. This thought, in my solitary wanderings, warmed me to a pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty and independence, which I threw into a kind of Scottish ode, fitted to the air, that one might suppose to be the gallant Royal Scot's address to his heroic followers on that eventful morning. BRUCE TO HIS MEN AT BANNOCK- TUNE-Hey tuttie taitie. P.S. I showed the air to Urbani, who was highly pleased with it, and begged me to make soft verses for it; but I had no idea make soft verses for it; but I had no idea of giving myself any trouble on the subject, till the accidental recollection of that glorious struggle for freedom, associated with the glowing ideas of some other struggles of the same nature, not quite so ancient, roused my rhyming mania. Clarke's set of the tune, with his bass, you will find in the Museum, though I am afraid that the air is not what will entitle it to a place in your elegant selection. NO. CCXC. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON. Sept. 1793. I DARE say, my dear Sir, that you will begin to think my correspondence is persecution. No matter, I can't help it; a ballad is my hobby-horse, which, though otherwise a simple sort of harmless idiotical beast enough, has yet this blessed headstrong property, that when once it has fairly made off with a hapless wight, it gets so enamoured with the tingle-gingle, tingle-gingle of its own bells, that it is sure to run poor pilgarlick, the bedlam jockey, quite beyond any useful point or post in the common race of men. Your heroic I BELIEVE it is generally allowed that the greatest modesty is the sure attendant of the greatest merit. While you are sending me verses that even Shakspeare might be proud to own, you speak of them as if they ode is to me the noblest composition of the were ordinary productions! kind in the Scottish language. I happened to, dine yesterday with a party of your charmed with it; entreated me to find out a friends, to whom I read it. They were all suitable air for it, and reprobated the idea of giving it a tune so totally devoid of interest or grandeur as "Hey tuttie taitie." Assuredly your partiality for this tune must arise from the ideas associated in your mind by the tradition concerning it, for I never heard any person, and I have conversed again and airs--I say, I never heard any one speak of again with the greatest enthusiasts for Scottish it as worthy of notice. I have been running over the whole hundred airs, of which I lately sent you the list; and I think "Lewie Gordon" is most happily adapted to your ode; at least, with a very slight variation of the fourth line, which I shall presently submit to you. There is in "Lewie Gordon" more of the grand than the plaintive, particularly when it is sung with a degree of spirit, which your words would oblige the singer to give it. I would have no scruple about substituting your ode in the room of "Lewie Gordon," which has neither the interest, the grandeur, nor the poetry, that characterise your verses. Now, the variation I have to suggest upon the last line of each verse, the only line too short for the air is as follows; Verse 1st, Or to glorious victory. 2nd, Chains-chains and slavery. 4th, Let him bravely follow me. If you connect each line with its own verse, I do not think you will find that either the sentiment or the expression loses any of its energy. The only line which I dislike in the whole song is, "Welcome to your gory bed." Would not another word be preferable to "welcome?" In your next I will expect to be informed whether you agree to what I have proposed. The little alterations I submit with the greatest defer I HAVE received your list, my dear Sir, and here go my observations on it. (173) Down the Burn Davie.” I have this moment tried an alteration, leaving out the last half of the third stanza, and the first half of the last stanza, thus: As down the burn they took their way, His cheek to hers he aft did lay, With "Mary, when shall we return, When summer comes, the swains on Tweed, is the production of Crawford. Robert was his Christian name. "Laddie, lie near me," must lie by me for some time. I do not know the air; and until I am complete master of a tune, in my own singing (such as it is), I can never compose for it. My way is: I consider the I consider the poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical expression; then choose my theme; begin one stanza: when that is composed, which is generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out, sit down now and then, look out for objects in nature around me that are in unison and harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my bosom; humming every now and then the air with the verses I have framed. When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fireside of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper; swinging at intervals on the hindlegs of my elbow chair, by way of calling forth my own critical strictures as my pen goes on. Seriously, this, at home, is almost invariably my way. What cursed egotism! "Gill Morice" I am for leaving out. It is a plaguy length; the air itself is never sung; and its place can well be supplied by one or two songs for fine airs that are not in your list--for instance, "Craigieburn wood" and "Roy's wife." The first, beside its intrinsic merit, has novelty; and the last has high merit, as well as great celebrity. I have the original words of a song for the last air, in the handwriting of the lady who composed it; and they are superior to any edition of the song which the public has yet seen. Highland-laddie." The old set will please a mere Scotch ear best; and the new an Italianised one. There is a third, and what Oswald calls the old Highlandladdie," which pleases me more than either of them. It is sometimes called "Ginglin Johnnie;" it being the air of an old humorous tawdry song of that name. You will find it in the Museum, "I hae been at Crookieden," &c. I would advise you, in this musical quandary, to offer up your prayers to the muses for inspiring direction; and, in the meantime, waiting for this direction, bestow a libation to Bacchus; and there is not a doubt but you will hit on a judicious choice. Probatum est. "Auld Sir Simon" I must beg you to leave out, and put in its place "The Quaker's wife." of the finest songs ever I made in my life, "Blythe hae I been o'er the hill," is one and, besides, is composed on a young lady, positively the most beautiful, lovely woman in the world. As I purpose giving you the names and designations of all my heroines, to appear in some future edition of your work, perhaps half a century hence, you must certainly include "The bonniest lass in a' the warld," in your collection. "Dainty Davie" I have heard sung nine- | down from an old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air. teen thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine [Here follows "Thou hast left me ever."] "Saw ye my father?" is one of my greatest favourites. The evening before last, I wandered out, and began a tender song, in what I think is its native style. I must premise, that the old way, and the way to give most effect, is to have no startingnote, as the fiddlers call it, but to burst at once into the pathos. Every country girl sings "Saw ye my father?" &c. My song is but just begun; and I should like, before I proceed, to know your opinion of it. I have sprinkled it with the Scottish dialect, but it may be easily turned into correct English. (176) "Todlin hame." Urbani mentioned an idea of his, which has long been mine, that this air is highly susceptible of pathos: accordingly, you will soon hear him at your concert try it to a song of mine in the Museum, "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon." One song more, and I have done; "Auld lang syne." The air is but mediocre ; but the following song, the old song of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it [Here the poet gives “Auld lang syne.”] " Now, I fairly. You must, after all is over, have a suppose, I have tired your patience number of ballads, properly so called. "Gill Morice," "Tranent Muir," "Macpherson's farewell," "Battle of Sheriff-muir, 66 or, We ran, and they rau" (I know the author of this charming ballad, and his history), Hardiknute,' "Barbara Allan" (I can furnish a finer set of this tune than any that has yet appeared); and besides, do you know that I really have the old tune to which "The cherry and the slae" was sung, and which is mentioned as a well-known air in "Scotland's Complaint," a book published before poor Mary's days? It was then called, "The banks o' Helicon;" an old poem which Pinkerton has brought to light. You will see all this in Tytler's History of Scottish Music. The tune, to a learned ear, may have no great merit; but it is a great curiosity. I have a good many original things of this kind. NO. CCXCIII. BURNS TO MR. THOMSON. I AM happy, my dear Sir, that my ode BANNOCKBURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Now's the day, and now's the hour; Traitor! coward! turn, and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Sodger! hero! on wi' me! By oppression's woes and pains! But they shall be-shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low Forward! let us do or die! N.B. I have borrowed the last stanza from the common stall edition of Wallace A false usurper sinks in every foe, And liberty returns with every blow. A couplet worthy of Homer. Yesterday you had enough of my correspondence. The post goes, and my head aches miserably. One comfort! I suffer so much, just now, in his world, for last night's joviality, that I shall escape scot-free for it in the world to come. Amen. and the best singer of the lively Scottish ballads that ever existed, has charmed thousands of companies with "Fee him, father," and with "Todlin hame" also, to the old words, which never should be disunited from either of these airs. Some bacchanals I would wish to discard. "Fy! let's a' to the bridal," for instance, is so coarse and vulgar, that I think it fit only to be sung in a company of drunken colliers; and "Saw ye my father?" appears to me both indelicate and silly. One word more with regard to your heroic ode. I think, with great deference to the poet, that a prudent general would avoid saying any thing to his soldiers which might tend to make death more frightful than it is. Gory" presents a disagreeable image to the mind; and to tell them "Welcome to your gory bed," seems rather a discouraging address, notwithstanding the alternative which follows. I have shown the song to three friends of excellent taste, and each of them objected to this line, which emboldens me to use the freedom of bringing it again under your notice. I would suggest, Now prepare for honour's bed, NO. CCXCIV. MR. THOMSON TO BURNS. September 12th, 1793. A THOUSAND thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your observations on the list of my songs. I am happy to find your ideas so much in unison with my own, respecting the generality of the airs, as well as the verses. About some of them we differ, but there is no disputing about hobby-horses. I shall not fail to profit by the remarks you make, and to re-consider the whole with attention. "Dainty Davie" must be sung, two stanzas together, and then the chorus: 'tis the proper way. I agree with you, that there may be something of pathos, or tenderness at least, in the air of "Fee him, father," when performed with feeling; but a tender cast may be given almost to any lively air, if you sing it very slowly, expressively, and with serious words. I am, however, clearly and invariably for retaining the cheerful tunes joined to their own humorous verses, wherever the verses are passable. But the sweet song for "Fee him, father," which you began about the back of midnight, I will publish as an additional one. Mr. James Balfour, the king of good fellows, |