_
When I tell you, my dear Sir, that a friend of mine in whom I am much
interested, has fallen a sacrifice to these accursed times, you will
easily allow that it might unhinge me for doing any good among
ballads.
When I tell you, my dear Sir, that a friend of mine in whom I am much
interested, has fallen a sacrifice to these accursed times, you will
easily allow that it might unhinge me for doing any good among
ballads.
Robert Burns
--Flattery,
I leave to your LOVERS, whose exaggerating fancies may make
them imagine you still nearer perfection than you really are.
Poets, Madam, of all mankind, feel most forcibly the powers of BEAUTY;
as, if they are really poets of nature's making, their feelings must be
finer, and their taste more delicate than most of the world. In the
cheerful bloom of SPRING, or the pensive mildness of AUTUMN; the
grandeur of SUMMER, or the hoary majesty of WINTER, the poet feels a
charm unknown to the rest of his species. Even the sight of a fine
flower, or the company of a fine woman (by far the finest part of God's
works below), have sensations for the poetic heart that the HERD of man
are strangers to. --On this last account, Madam, I am, as in many other
things, indebted to Mr. Hamilton's kindness in introducing me to you.
Your lovers may view you with a wish, I look on you with pleasure; their
hearts, in your presence, may glow with desire, mine rises with
admiration.
That the arrows of misfortune, however they should, as incident to
humanity, glance a slight wound, may never reach your _heart_--that
the snares of villany may never beset you in the road of life--that
INNOCENCE may hand you by the path of honour to the dwelling
of PEACE, is the sincere wish of him who has the honour to
be, &c.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCLVIII.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[The name of the friend who fell a sacrifice to those changeable
times, has not been mentioned: it is believed he was of the west
country. ]
_June, 1793.
_
When I tell you, my dear Sir, that a friend of mine in whom I am much
interested, has fallen a sacrifice to these accursed times, you will
easily allow that it might unhinge me for doing any good among
ballads. My own loss as to pecuniary matters is trifling; but the
total ruin of a much-loved friend is a loss indeed. Pardon my seeming
inattention to your last commands.
I cannot alter the disputed lines in the "Mill Mill, O! "[222] What you
think a defect, I esteem as a positive beauty; so you see how doctors
differ. I shall now, with as much alacrity as I can muster, go on with
your commands.
You know Frazer, the hautboy-player in Edinburgh--he is here,
instructing a band of music for a fencible corps quartered in this
county. Among many of his airs that please me, there is one, well
known as a reel, by the name of "The Quaker's Wife;" and which, I
remember, a grand-aunt of mine used to sing, by the name of "Liggeram
Cosh, my bonnie wee lass. " Mr. Frazer plays it slow, and with an
expression that quite charms me. I became such an enthusiast about it,
that I made a song for it, which I here subjoin, and enclose Frazer's
set of the tune. If they hit your fancy, they are at your service; if
not, return me the tune, and I will put it in Johnson's Museum. I
think the song is not in my worst manner.
Blythe hae I been on yon hill. [223]
I should wish to hear how this pleases you.
R.
I leave to your LOVERS, whose exaggerating fancies may make
them imagine you still nearer perfection than you really are.
Poets, Madam, of all mankind, feel most forcibly the powers of BEAUTY;
as, if they are really poets of nature's making, their feelings must be
finer, and their taste more delicate than most of the world. In the
cheerful bloom of SPRING, or the pensive mildness of AUTUMN; the
grandeur of SUMMER, or the hoary majesty of WINTER, the poet feels a
charm unknown to the rest of his species. Even the sight of a fine
flower, or the company of a fine woman (by far the finest part of God's
works below), have sensations for the poetic heart that the HERD of man
are strangers to. --On this last account, Madam, I am, as in many other
things, indebted to Mr. Hamilton's kindness in introducing me to you.
Your lovers may view you with a wish, I look on you with pleasure; their
hearts, in your presence, may glow with desire, mine rises with
admiration.
That the arrows of misfortune, however they should, as incident to
humanity, glance a slight wound, may never reach your _heart_--that
the snares of villany may never beset you in the road of life--that
INNOCENCE may hand you by the path of honour to the dwelling
of PEACE, is the sincere wish of him who has the honour to
be, &c.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCLVIII.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[The name of the friend who fell a sacrifice to those changeable
times, has not been mentioned: it is believed he was of the west
country. ]
_June, 1793.
_
When I tell you, my dear Sir, that a friend of mine in whom I am much
interested, has fallen a sacrifice to these accursed times, you will
easily allow that it might unhinge me for doing any good among
ballads. My own loss as to pecuniary matters is trifling; but the
total ruin of a much-loved friend is a loss indeed. Pardon my seeming
inattention to your last commands.
I cannot alter the disputed lines in the "Mill Mill, O! "[222] What you
think a defect, I esteem as a positive beauty; so you see how doctors
differ. I shall now, with as much alacrity as I can muster, go on with
your commands.
You know Frazer, the hautboy-player in Edinburgh--he is here,
instructing a band of music for a fencible corps quartered in this
county. Among many of his airs that please me, there is one, well
known as a reel, by the name of "The Quaker's Wife;" and which, I
remember, a grand-aunt of mine used to sing, by the name of "Liggeram
Cosh, my bonnie wee lass. " Mr. Frazer plays it slow, and with an
expression that quite charms me. I became such an enthusiast about it,
that I made a song for it, which I here subjoin, and enclose Frazer's
set of the tune. If they hit your fancy, they are at your service; if
not, return me the tune, and I will put it in Johnson's Museum. I
think the song is not in my worst manner.
Blythe hae I been on yon hill. [223]
I should wish to hear how this pleases you.
R.
