_
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
Robert Forst
I
leave it in your hands. I do not think it very remarkable, either for
its merits or demerits. It is impossible (at least I feel it so in my
stinted powers) to be always original, entertaining, and witty.
What is become of the list, &c. , of your songs? I shall be out of all
temper with you, by and bye. I have always looked on myself as the
prince of indolent correspondence, and valued myself accordingly; and
I will not, cannot, bear rivalship from you, nor anybody else.
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 207: Song CLXXXVIII. ]
* * * * *
CCXLIX.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[For the "Wandering Willie" of this communication Thomson offered
several corrections. ]
_March, 1793.
_
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting;
It was na the blast brought the tear in my e'e;
Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie,
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.
Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers!
Oh how your wild horrors a lover alarms!
Awaken, ye breezes! blow gently, ye billows!
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
But if he's forgotten his faithfulest Nannie,
O still flow between us, thou wide, roaring main;
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!
I leave it to you, my dear Sir, to determine whether the above, or the
old "Thro' the lang muir I have followed my Willie," be the best.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCL.
TO MISS BENSON.
[Miss Benson, when this letter was written, was on a visit to
Arbigland, the beautiful seat of Captain Craik; she is now Mrs. Basil
Montagu. ]
_Dumfries, 21st March, 1793.
leave it in your hands. I do not think it very remarkable, either for
its merits or demerits. It is impossible (at least I feel it so in my
stinted powers) to be always original, entertaining, and witty.
What is become of the list, &c. , of your songs? I shall be out of all
temper with you, by and bye. I have always looked on myself as the
prince of indolent correspondence, and valued myself accordingly; and
I will not, cannot, bear rivalship from you, nor anybody else.
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 207: Song CLXXXVIII. ]
* * * * *
CCXLIX.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[For the "Wandering Willie" of this communication Thomson offered
several corrections. ]
_March, 1793.
_
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting;
It was na the blast brought the tear in my e'e;
Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie,
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.
Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers!
Oh how your wild horrors a lover alarms!
Awaken, ye breezes! blow gently, ye billows!
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
But if he's forgotten his faithfulest Nannie,
O still flow between us, thou wide, roaring main;
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!
I leave it to you, my dear Sir, to determine whether the above, or the
old "Thro' the lang muir I have followed my Willie," be the best.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCL.
TO MISS BENSON.
[Miss Benson, when this letter was written, was on a visit to
Arbigland, the beautiful seat of Captain Craik; she is now Mrs. Basil
Montagu. ]
_Dumfries, 21st March, 1793.
