That
auspicious period, pregnant with the happiness of millions.
auspicious period, pregnant with the happiness of millions.
Robert Burns
--Our friend Clarke
has done _indeed_ well! 'tis chaste and beautiful. I have not met with
anything that has pleased me so much. You know I am no connoisseur:
but that I am an amateur--will be allowed me.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCXCVIII.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[The blank in this letter could be filled up without writing treason:
but nothing has been omitted of an original nature. ]
_July, 1794. _
Is there no news yet of Pleyel? Or is your work to be at a dead stop,
until the allies set our modern Orpheus at liberty from the savage
thraldom of democrat discords? Alas the day! And woe is me!
That
auspicious period, pregnant with the happiness of millions. * * * *
I have presented a copy of your songs to the daughter of a much-valued
and much-honoured friend of mine, Mr. Graham of Fintray. I wrote on
the blank side of the title-page the following address to the young
lady:
Here, where the Scottish muse immortal lives, &c. [257]
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 257: Song CCXXIX. ]
* * * * *
CCXCIX.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[Thomson says to Burns, "You have anticipated my opinion of 'O'er the
seas and far away. '" Yet some of the verses are original and
touching. ]
_30th August, 1794. _
The last evening, as I was straying out, and thinking of "O'er the
hills and far away," I spun the following stanza for it; but whether
my spinning will deserve to be laid up in store, like the precious
thread of the silk-worm, or brushed to the devil, like the vile
manufacture of the spider, I leave, my dear Sir, to your usual candid
criticism. I was pleased with several lines in it at first, but I own
that now it appears rather a flimsy business.
This is just a hasty sketch, until I see whether it be worth a
critique.
has done _indeed_ well! 'tis chaste and beautiful. I have not met with
anything that has pleased me so much. You know I am no connoisseur:
but that I am an amateur--will be allowed me.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCXCVIII.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[The blank in this letter could be filled up without writing treason:
but nothing has been omitted of an original nature. ]
_July, 1794. _
Is there no news yet of Pleyel? Or is your work to be at a dead stop,
until the allies set our modern Orpheus at liberty from the savage
thraldom of democrat discords? Alas the day! And woe is me!
That
auspicious period, pregnant with the happiness of millions. * * * *
I have presented a copy of your songs to the daughter of a much-valued
and much-honoured friend of mine, Mr. Graham of Fintray. I wrote on
the blank side of the title-page the following address to the young
lady:
Here, where the Scottish muse immortal lives, &c. [257]
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 257: Song CCXXIX. ]
* * * * *
CCXCIX.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[Thomson says to Burns, "You have anticipated my opinion of 'O'er the
seas and far away. '" Yet some of the verses are original and
touching. ]
_30th August, 1794. _
The last evening, as I was straying out, and thinking of "O'er the
hills and far away," I spun the following stanza for it; but whether
my spinning will deserve to be laid up in store, like the precious
thread of the silk-worm, or brushed to the devil, like the vile
manufacture of the spider, I leave, my dear Sir, to your usual candid
criticism. I was pleased with several lines in it at first, but I own
that now it appears rather a flimsy business.
This is just a hasty sketch, until I see whether it be worth a
critique.
