No More Learning

_

Thank you, my dear Sir, for your packet. You cannot imagine how much
this business of composing for your publication has added to my
enjoyments. What with my early attachment to ballads, your book, &c. ,
ballad-making is now as completely my hobby-horse as ever
fortification was Uncle Toby's; so I'll e'en canter it away till I
come to the limit of my race--God grant that I may take the right side
of the winning post! --and then cheerfully looking back on the honest
folks with whom I have been happy, I shall say or sing, "Sae merry as
we a' hae been! " and, raising my last looks to the whole human race,
the last words of the voice of "Coila"[208] shall be, "Good night, and
joy be wi' you a'! " So much for my last words: now for a few present
remarks, as they have occurred at random, on looking over your list.

The first lines of "The last time I came o'er the moor," and several
other lines in it, are beautiful; but, in my opinion--pardon me,
revered shade of Ramsay! --the song is unworthy of the divine air. I
shall try to make or mend.

"For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove,"[209] is a charming song; but "Logan
burn and Logan braes" is sweetly susceptible of rural imagery; I'll
try that likewise, and, if I succeed, the other song may class among
the English ones. I remember the two last lines of a verse in some of
the old songs of "Logan Water" (for I know a good many different ones)
which I think pretty:--

"Now my dear lad maun faces his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes. "[210]

"My Patie is a lover gay," is unequal. "His mind is never muddy," is a
muddy expression indeed.

"Then I'll resign and marry Pate,
And syne my cockernony--"

This is surely far unworthy of Ramsay or your book.
My song, "Rigs of
barley," to the same tune, does not altogether please me; but if I can
mend it, and thrash a few loose sentiments out of it, I will submit
it to your consideration. "The lass o' Patie's mill" is one of
Ramsay's best songs; but there is one loose sentiment in it, which my
much-valued friend Mr. Erskine will take into his critical
consideration. In Sir John Sinclair's statistical volumes, are two
claims--one, I think from Aberdeenshire, and the other from
Ayrshire--for the honour of this song. The following anecdote, which I
had from the present Sir William Cunningham of Robertland, who had it
of the late John, Earl of Loudon, I can, on such authorities, believe:

Allan Ramsay was residing at Loudon-castle with the then Earl, father
to Earl John; and one forenoon, riding or walking, out together, his
lordship and Allan passed a sweet romantic spot on Irvine water, still
called "Patie's mill," where a bonnie lass was "tedding hay,
bare-headed on the green. " My lord observed to Allan, that it would be
a fine theme for a song. Ramsay took the hint, and, lingering behind,
he composed the first sketch of it, which he produced at dinner.

"One day I heard Mary say,"[211] is a fine song; but, for consistency's
sake, alter the name "Adonis. " Were there ever such banns published,
as a purpose of marriage between Adonis and Mary! I agree with you
that my song, "There's nought but care on every hand," is much
superior to "Poortith cauld. " The original song, "The mill, mill,
O! "[212] though excellent, is, on account of delicacy, inadmissible;
still I like the title, and think a Scottish song would suit the notes
best; and let your chosen song, which is very pretty, follow as an
English set. "The Banks of the Dee" is, you know, literally
"Langolee," to slow time. The song is well enough, but has some false
imagery in it: for instance,

"And sweetly the nightingale sang from the tree. "

In the first place, the nightingale sings in a low bush, but never
from a tree; and in the second place, there never was a nightingale
seen or heard on the banks of the Dee, or on the banks of any other
river in Scotland. Exotic rural imagery is always comparatively
flat.