" I met with some such words in a
collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to
please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or
two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on the
other page.
collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to
please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or
two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on the
other page.
Robert Burns
The lightning of her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and the
witchery of her smile the divinity of Helicon!
To descend to business: if you like my idea of "When she cam ben she
bobbit," the following stanzas of mine, altered a little from what
they were formerly, when set to another air, may perhaps do instead of
worse stanzas:--
O saw ye my dear, my Phely. [261]
Now for a few miscellaneous remarks. "The Posie" (in the Museum) is my
composition; the air was taken down from Mrs. Burns's voice. It is
well known in the west country, but the old words are trash. By the
bye, take a look at the tune again, and tell me if you do not think it
is the original from which "Roslin Castle" is composed. The second
part in particular, for the first two or three bars, is exactly the
old air. "Strathallan's Lament" is mine; the music is by our right
trusty and deservedly well-beloved Allan Masterton. "Donocht-Head" is
not mine; I would give ten pounds it were. It appeared first in the
Edinburgh Herald, and came to the editor of that paper with the
Newcastle post-mark on it "Whistle o'er the lave o't" is mine: the
music said to be by a John Bruce, a celebrated violin-player in
Dumfries, about the beginning of this century. This I know, Bruce, who
was an honest man, though a red-wud Highlandman, constantly claimed
it; and by all the old musical people here is believed to be the
author of it.
"Andrew and his cutty gun. " The song to which this is set in the
Museum is mine, and was composed on Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lintrose,
commonly and deservedly called the Flower of Strathmore.
"How long and dreary is the night!
" I met with some such words in a
collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to
please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or
two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on the
other page.
How long and dreary is the night, &c. [262]
Tell me how you like this. I differ from your idea of the expression
of the tune. There is, to me, a great deal of tenderness in it. You
cannot, in my opinion, dispense with a bass to your addenda airs. A
lady of my acquaintance, a noted performer, plays and sings at the
same time so charmingly, that I shall never bear to see any of her
songs sent into the world, as naked as Mr. What-d'ye-call-um has done
in his London collection. [263]
These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command of the
language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at "Duncan
Gray," to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid.
For instance:--
Let not woman e'er complain, &c. [264]
Since the above, I have been out in the country, taking a dinner with
a friend, where I met with a lady whom I mentioned in the second page
in this odds-and-ends of a letter. As usual, I got into song; and
returning home I composed the following:
Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature
&c. [265]
If you honour my verses by setting the air to them, I will vamp up the
old song, and make it English enough to be understood.
I enclose you a musical curiosity, an East Indian air, which you would
swear was a Scottish one.
witchery of her smile the divinity of Helicon!
To descend to business: if you like my idea of "When she cam ben she
bobbit," the following stanzas of mine, altered a little from what
they were formerly, when set to another air, may perhaps do instead of
worse stanzas:--
O saw ye my dear, my Phely. [261]
Now for a few miscellaneous remarks. "The Posie" (in the Museum) is my
composition; the air was taken down from Mrs. Burns's voice. It is
well known in the west country, but the old words are trash. By the
bye, take a look at the tune again, and tell me if you do not think it
is the original from which "Roslin Castle" is composed. The second
part in particular, for the first two or three bars, is exactly the
old air. "Strathallan's Lament" is mine; the music is by our right
trusty and deservedly well-beloved Allan Masterton. "Donocht-Head" is
not mine; I would give ten pounds it were. It appeared first in the
Edinburgh Herald, and came to the editor of that paper with the
Newcastle post-mark on it "Whistle o'er the lave o't" is mine: the
music said to be by a John Bruce, a celebrated violin-player in
Dumfries, about the beginning of this century. This I know, Bruce, who
was an honest man, though a red-wud Highlandman, constantly claimed
it; and by all the old musical people here is believed to be the
author of it.
"Andrew and his cutty gun. " The song to which this is set in the
Museum is mine, and was composed on Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lintrose,
commonly and deservedly called the Flower of Strathmore.
"How long and dreary is the night!
" I met with some such words in a
collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to
please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or
two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on the
other page.
How long and dreary is the night, &c. [262]
Tell me how you like this. I differ from your idea of the expression
of the tune. There is, to me, a great deal of tenderness in it. You
cannot, in my opinion, dispense with a bass to your addenda airs. A
lady of my acquaintance, a noted performer, plays and sings at the
same time so charmingly, that I shall never bear to see any of her
songs sent into the world, as naked as Mr. What-d'ye-call-um has done
in his London collection. [263]
These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command of the
language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at "Duncan
Gray," to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid.
For instance:--
Let not woman e'er complain, &c. [264]
Since the above, I have been out in the country, taking a dinner with
a friend, where I met with a lady whom I mentioned in the second page
in this odds-and-ends of a letter. As usual, I got into song; and
returning home I composed the following:
Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature
&c. [265]
If you honour my verses by setting the air to them, I will vamp up the
old song, and make it English enough to be understood.
I enclose you a musical curiosity, an East Indian air, which you would
swear was a Scottish one.
