[Thomson
instantly
complied with the dying poet's request, and
transmitted the exact sum which he requested, viz.
transmitted the exact sum which he requested, viz.
Robert Forst
"]
_Brow, Saturday, 12th July, 1796. _
MADAM,
I have written you so often, without receiving any answer, that I
would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I am.
An illness which has long hung about me, in all probability will
speedily send me beyond that _bourn whence no traveller returns. _ Your
friendship, with which for many years you honoured me, was a
friendship dearest to my soul. Your conversation, and especially your
correspondence, were at once highly entertaining and instructive. With
what pleasure did I use to break up the seal! The remembrance yet adds
one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart.
Farewell! ! !
R. B.
* * * * *
CCCXLII.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[Thomson instantly complied with the dying poet's request, and
transmitted the exact sum which he requested, viz. five pounds, by
return of post: he was afraid of offending the pride of Burns,
otherwise he would, he says, have sent a larger sum. He has not,
however, told us how much he sent to the all but desolate widow and
children, when death had released him from all dread of the poet's
indignation. ]
_Brow, on the Solway-firth, 12th July, 1796. _
After all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me to
implore you for five pounds. A cruel wretch of a haberdasher, to whom
I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has
commenced a process, and will infallibly put me into jail. Do, for
God's sake, send me that sum, and that by return of post. Forgive me
this earnestness, but the horrors of a jail have made me half
distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously; for, upon returning
health, I hereby promise and engage to furnish you with five pounds'
worth of the neatest song-genius you have seen. I tried my hand on
"Rothemurche" this morning. The measure is so difficult that it is
impossible to infuse much genius into the lines; they are on the other
side. Forgive, forgive me!
Fairest maid on Devon's banks. [292]
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 292: Song CCLXVIII.
_Brow, Saturday, 12th July, 1796. _
MADAM,
I have written you so often, without receiving any answer, that I
would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I am.
An illness which has long hung about me, in all probability will
speedily send me beyond that _bourn whence no traveller returns. _ Your
friendship, with which for many years you honoured me, was a
friendship dearest to my soul. Your conversation, and especially your
correspondence, were at once highly entertaining and instructive. With
what pleasure did I use to break up the seal! The remembrance yet adds
one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart.
Farewell! ! !
R. B.
* * * * *
CCCXLII.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[Thomson instantly complied with the dying poet's request, and
transmitted the exact sum which he requested, viz. five pounds, by
return of post: he was afraid of offending the pride of Burns,
otherwise he would, he says, have sent a larger sum. He has not,
however, told us how much he sent to the all but desolate widow and
children, when death had released him from all dread of the poet's
indignation. ]
_Brow, on the Solway-firth, 12th July, 1796. _
After all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me to
implore you for five pounds. A cruel wretch of a haberdasher, to whom
I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has
commenced a process, and will infallibly put me into jail. Do, for
God's sake, send me that sum, and that by return of post. Forgive me
this earnestness, but the horrors of a jail have made me half
distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously; for, upon returning
health, I hereby promise and engage to furnish you with five pounds'
worth of the neatest song-genius you have seen. I tried my hand on
"Rothemurche" this morning. The measure is so difficult that it is
impossible to infuse much genius into the lines; they are on the other
side. Forgive, forgive me!
Fairest maid on Devon's banks. [292]
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 292: Song CCLXVIII.
