Riddel, has
informed
you
that I have made you the subject of some verses.
that I have made you the subject of some verses.
Robert Forst
Ker will save you the
postage.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot! "[192]
Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who
composed this glorious fragment. There is more of the fire of native
genius in it than in half-a-dozen of modern English Bacchanalians! Now
I am on my hobby-horse, I cannot help inserting two other old stanzas,
which please me mightily:--
"Go fetch to me a pint of wine. "[193]
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 192: See Song CCX. ]
[Footnote 193: See Song LXXII. ]
* * * * *
CXLIII.
TO MISS DAVIES.
[The Laird of Glenriddel informed "the charming, lovely Davies" that
Burns was composing a song in her praise. The poet acted on this, and
sent the song, enclosed in this characteristic letter. ]
_December, 1788. _
MADAM,
I understand my very worthy neighbour, Mr.
Riddel, has informed you
that I have made you the subject of some verses. There is something
so provoking in the idea of being the burthen of a ballad, that I do
not think Job or Moses, though such patterns of patience and meekness,
could have resisted the curiosity to know what that ballad was: so my
worthy friend has done me a mischief, which I dare say he never
intended; and reduced me to the unfortunate alternative of leaving
your curiosity ungratified, or else disgusting you with foolish
verses, the unfinished production of a random moment, and never meant
to have met your ear. I have heard or read somewhere of a gentleman
who had some genius, much eccentricity, and very considerable
dexterity with his pencil. In the accidental group of life into which
one is thrown, wherever this gentleman met with a character in a more
than ordinary degree congenial to his heart, he used to steal a sketch
of the face, merely, he said, as a _nota bene_, to point out the
agreeable recollection to his memory. What this gentleman's pencil was
to him, my muse is to me; and the verses I do myself the honour to
send you are a _memento_ exactly of the same kind that he indulged in.
It may be more owing to the fastidiousness of my caprice than the
delicacy of my taste; but I am so often tired, disgusted and hurt with
insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a
person "after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox
Protestant would call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy
like inspiration; and I can no more desist rhyming on the impulse,
than an AEolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air. A
distich or two would be the consequence, though the object which hit
my fancy were gray-bearded-age; but where my theme is youth and
beauty, a young lady whose personal charms, wit, and sentiment are
equally striking and unaffected--by heavens! though I had lived three
score years a married man, and three score years before I was a
married man, my imagination would hallow the very idea: and I am truly
sorry that the inclosed stanzas have done such poor justice to such a
subject.
R. B.
* * * * *
CXLIV.
TO MR. JOHN TENNANT.
[The mill of John Currie stood on a small stream which fed the loch of
Friar's Carse--near the house of the dame of whom he sang, "Sic a wife
as Willie had. "]
_December 22, 1788. _
I yesterday tried my cask of whiskey for the first time, and I assure
you it does you great credit.
postage.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot! "[192]
Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who
composed this glorious fragment. There is more of the fire of native
genius in it than in half-a-dozen of modern English Bacchanalians! Now
I am on my hobby-horse, I cannot help inserting two other old stanzas,
which please me mightily:--
"Go fetch to me a pint of wine. "[193]
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 192: See Song CCX. ]
[Footnote 193: See Song LXXII. ]
* * * * *
CXLIII.
TO MISS DAVIES.
[The Laird of Glenriddel informed "the charming, lovely Davies" that
Burns was composing a song in her praise. The poet acted on this, and
sent the song, enclosed in this characteristic letter. ]
_December, 1788. _
MADAM,
I understand my very worthy neighbour, Mr.
Riddel, has informed you
that I have made you the subject of some verses. There is something
so provoking in the idea of being the burthen of a ballad, that I do
not think Job or Moses, though such patterns of patience and meekness,
could have resisted the curiosity to know what that ballad was: so my
worthy friend has done me a mischief, which I dare say he never
intended; and reduced me to the unfortunate alternative of leaving
your curiosity ungratified, or else disgusting you with foolish
verses, the unfinished production of a random moment, and never meant
to have met your ear. I have heard or read somewhere of a gentleman
who had some genius, much eccentricity, and very considerable
dexterity with his pencil. In the accidental group of life into which
one is thrown, wherever this gentleman met with a character in a more
than ordinary degree congenial to his heart, he used to steal a sketch
of the face, merely, he said, as a _nota bene_, to point out the
agreeable recollection to his memory. What this gentleman's pencil was
to him, my muse is to me; and the verses I do myself the honour to
send you are a _memento_ exactly of the same kind that he indulged in.
It may be more owing to the fastidiousness of my caprice than the
delicacy of my taste; but I am so often tired, disgusted and hurt with
insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a
person "after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox
Protestant would call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy
like inspiration; and I can no more desist rhyming on the impulse,
than an AEolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air. A
distich or two would be the consequence, though the object which hit
my fancy were gray-bearded-age; but where my theme is youth and
beauty, a young lady whose personal charms, wit, and sentiment are
equally striking and unaffected--by heavens! though I had lived three
score years a married man, and three score years before I was a
married man, my imagination would hallow the very idea: and I am truly
sorry that the inclosed stanzas have done such poor justice to such a
subject.
R. B.
* * * * *
CXLIV.
TO MR. JOHN TENNANT.
[The mill of John Currie stood on a small stream which fed the loch of
Friar's Carse--near the house of the dame of whom he sang, "Sic a wife
as Willie had. "]
_December 22, 1788. _
I yesterday tried my cask of whiskey for the first time, and I assure
you it does you great credit.
