[The verses enclosed were written on the death of the Lord President
Dundas, at the suggestion of Charles Hay, Esq.
Dundas, at the suggestion of Charles Hay, Esq.
Robert Burns
He is a stronger proof of the immortality of
the soul, than any that philosophy ever produced. A mind like his can
never die. Let the worshipful squire H. L. , or the reverend Mass J. M.
go into their primitive nothing. At best, they are but ill-digested
lumps of chaos, only one of them strongly tinged with bituminous
particles and sulphureous effluvia. But my noble patron, eternal as
the heroic swell of magnanimity, and the generous throb of
benevolence, shall look on with princely eye at "the war of elements,
the wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. "
R. B.
* * * * *
LXXXVIII.
TO CHARLES HAY. ESQ. ,
ADVOCATE.
[The verses enclosed were written on the death of the Lord President
Dundas, at the suggestion of Charles Hay, Esq. , advocate, afterwards a
judge, under the title of Lord Newton. ]
SIR,
The enclosed poem was written in consequence of your suggestion, last
time I had the pleasure of seeing you. It cost me an hour or two of
next morning's sleep, but did not please me; so it lay by, an
ill-digested effort, till the other day that I gave it a critic brush.
These kind of subjects are much hackneyed; and, besides, the wailings
of the rhyming tribe over the ashes of the great are cursedly
suspicious, and out of all character for sincerity. These ideas damped
my muse's fire; however, I have done the best I could, and, at all
events, it gives me an opportunity of declaring that I have the honour
to be, Sir, your obliged humble servant,
R. B.
* * * * *
LXXXIX.
TO MISS M----N.
[This letter appeared for the first time in the "Letters to Clarinda,"
a little work which was speedily suppressed--it is, on the whole, a
sort of Corydon and Phillis affair, with here and there expressions
too graphic, and passages over-warm. Who the lady was is not known--or
known only to one. ]
_Saturday Noon, No. 2, St. James's Square_,
_New Town, Edinburgh_
Here have I sat, my 'dear Madam, in the stony altitude of perplexed
study for fifteen vexatious minutes, my head askew, bending over the
intended card; my fixed eye insensible to the very light of day poured
around; my pendulous goose-feather, loaded with ink, hanging over the
future letter, all for the important purpose of writing a
complimentary card to accompany your trinket.
Compliment is such a miserable Greenland expression, lies at such a
chilly polar distance from the torrid zone of my constitution, that I
cannot, for the very soul of me, use it to any person for whom I have
the twentieth part of the esteem every one must have for you who knows
you.
As I leave town in three or four days, I can give myself the pleasure
of calling on you only for a minute.
the soul, than any that philosophy ever produced. A mind like his can
never die. Let the worshipful squire H. L. , or the reverend Mass J. M.
go into their primitive nothing. At best, they are but ill-digested
lumps of chaos, only one of them strongly tinged with bituminous
particles and sulphureous effluvia. But my noble patron, eternal as
the heroic swell of magnanimity, and the generous throb of
benevolence, shall look on with princely eye at "the war of elements,
the wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. "
R. B.
* * * * *
LXXXVIII.
TO CHARLES HAY. ESQ. ,
ADVOCATE.
[The verses enclosed were written on the death of the Lord President
Dundas, at the suggestion of Charles Hay, Esq. , advocate, afterwards a
judge, under the title of Lord Newton. ]
SIR,
The enclosed poem was written in consequence of your suggestion, last
time I had the pleasure of seeing you. It cost me an hour or two of
next morning's sleep, but did not please me; so it lay by, an
ill-digested effort, till the other day that I gave it a critic brush.
These kind of subjects are much hackneyed; and, besides, the wailings
of the rhyming tribe over the ashes of the great are cursedly
suspicious, and out of all character for sincerity. These ideas damped
my muse's fire; however, I have done the best I could, and, at all
events, it gives me an opportunity of declaring that I have the honour
to be, Sir, your obliged humble servant,
R. B.
* * * * *
LXXXIX.
TO MISS M----N.
[This letter appeared for the first time in the "Letters to Clarinda,"
a little work which was speedily suppressed--it is, on the whole, a
sort of Corydon and Phillis affair, with here and there expressions
too graphic, and passages over-warm. Who the lady was is not known--or
known only to one. ]
_Saturday Noon, No. 2, St. James's Square_,
_New Town, Edinburgh_
Here have I sat, my 'dear Madam, in the stony altitude of perplexed
study for fifteen vexatious minutes, my head askew, bending over the
intended card; my fixed eye insensible to the very light of day poured
around; my pendulous goose-feather, loaded with ink, hanging over the
future letter, all for the important purpose of writing a
complimentary card to accompany your trinket.
Compliment is such a miserable Greenland expression, lies at such a
chilly polar distance from the torrid zone of my constitution, that I
cannot, for the very soul of me, use it to any person for whom I have
the twentieth part of the esteem every one must have for you who knows
you.
As I leave town in three or four days, I can give myself the pleasure
of calling on you only for a minute.
