been sharing his household cares, if he had had a house into which to put her. The peace of conscience secured by his acceptance of Jean as his wife, must have added not a little to the pleasure he felt in musing on her image, and sending his thoughts towards the place which her presence brightened. We have an invaluable memorial of the feeling of the moment in his charming canzonet I LOVE MY JEAN. Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, For there the bonny lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best: There's wild woods grow, and rivers row, And monie a hill between;1 But day and night my fancy's flight I see her in the dewy flowers, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonny flower that springs 1 The commencement of this stanza is given in Johnson's Museum "There wild woods grow,' &c., as implying the nature of the scenery in the west. In Wood's Songs of Scotland, the reading is 'Though wild woods grow, and rivers row, Wi' monie a hill between, Baith day and night,' &c., evidently an alteration designed to improve the logic of the verse. It appears that both readings are wrong, for in the original manuscript of Burns's contributions to Johnson, in the possession of Archibald Hastie, Esq., the line is written: 'There's wild woods grow,' &c., as in our text. It is an example of a kind of syllogism occasionally employed by Burns, in which the major proposition seems to be merely expletive. [Another example will serve to bring this peculiarity of composition more distinctly before the mind of the reader: By Auchtertyre grows the aik, On Yarrow banks the birken shaw; I have been reminded that the idea is not new in verse: - έπει μάλα πολλὰ μεταξὺ Οὔρεά τε σκιόεντα, θάλασσά τε ήχήεσσα. Iliad, i. 149. 2 The first of these stanzas appeared in the third volume of Johnson's Museum. Burns's note upon it afterwards was: This song I composed out of compliment to Mrs Burns. N.B.-It was in the honeymoon.' Two additional stanzas were some years afterwards Nor was this all; for the same period produced, in honour of Mrs Burns, perhaps the most luxuriantly rich of all his amatory lyrics. We have to suppose the poet in his solitary life at Ellisland, gazing towards the hill of Corsincon, at the head of Nithsdale, beyond which, though at many miles' distance, was the valley in which his heart's idol lived. He ideally beholds his 'blithesome, dancing, sweet young quean, of guileless heart,' in her most characteristic situation, and he bursts out with these glowing verses OH, WERE I ON PARNASSUS' HILL! TUNE-My Love is lost to me. Oh, were I on Parnassus' hill! To sing how dear I love thee. And write how dear I love thee. produced by John Hamilton, musicseller in Edinburgh; they are not unworthy of appearing on the same page with those by Burns: O blaw, ye westlin' winds, blaw saft Amang the leafy trees, Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale What sighs and vows amang the knowes Hae passed atween us twa! How fond to meet, how wae to part, That night she gaed awa'! The powers aboon can only ken, To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean. 'An anonymous writer in the Notes and Queries points out a similar idea to this in Propertius: "Non hæc Calliope, non hæc mihi cantat Apollo, 2 Clean in this relation means well-shaped-handsome. By night, by day, a-field, at hame, I only live to love thee. Though I were doomed to wander on Till then-and then I love thee. Alas, Clarinda! where was now your image? It is but four or five months since he said to you: 'I admire you, I love you as a woman beyond any one in all the circle of creation. am yours, Clarinda, for life!' Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another; So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten.' I TO MR ROBERT AINSLIE. MAUCHLINE, 23d June 1788. This letter, my dear sir, is only a business scrap. Mr Miers, profile-painter in your town, has executed a profile of Dr Blacklock for me: do me the favour to call for it, and sit to him yourself for me, which put in the same size as the doctor's. The account of both profiles will be fifteen shillings, which I have given to James Connel, our Mauchline carrier, to pay you when you give him the parcel. You must not, my friend, refuse to sit. The time is short. When I sat to Mr Miers, I am sure he did not exceed two minutes. I propose hanging Lord Glencairn, the doctor, and you in trio over my new chimney-piece that is to be. Adieu ! R. B. One piece of special good-fortune in Burns's situation at Ellisland was his having for his next neighbour, at less than a mile's distance along the bank of the Nith, Captain Riddell of Glenriddell, a man of literary and antiquarian spirit, and of kindly social nature. Riddell possessed a beautiful small estate, with a pleasant mansion romantically situated on a rocky promontory which here produces a bend in the river, and was formerly the site of a small monastic establishment: a long carse (alluvial plain) extends to the eastward, bounded by beautiful shrubberies, which nearly reach to Ellisland. The proprietor of Friars' Carse had given Burns a key admitting him to the grounds, and it seems to have been among the agreeable conditions of the poet's life at this happy summer period, when hope was green in his bosom, to wander in these grounds, and muse in a decorated cot or hermitage which their master had raised. On the 28th of June he composed, under the character of a bedesman, or alms-fed recluse VERSES IN FRIARS' CARSE HERMITAGE. Thou whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou decked in silken stole, Sprung from night, in darkness lost; Make content and ease thy aim. Fame a restless, idle dream: Round Peace, the tenderest flower of Spring; Those that sip the dew alone, Make the butterflies thy own; Those that would the bloom devour, Crush the locusts-save the flower. For the future be prepared, Guard wherever thou canst guard; Welcome what thou canst not shun. Follies past, give thou to air, Make their consequence thy care: Keep the name of man in mind, Him whose wondrous work thou art; Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide! TO MR ROBERT AINSLIE. ELLISLAND, 30th June 1788. MY DEAR SIR-I just now received your brief epistle; and to take vengeance on your laziness, I have, you see, taken a long sheet of writing-paper, and have begun at the top of the page, intending to scribble on to the very last corner. I am vexed at that affair of the ***, but dare not enlarge on the subject until you send me your direction, as I suppose that will be altered on your late master and friend's death. I am concerned for the old fellow's exit only as I fear it may be to your disadvantage in any respect; for an old man's dying, except he have been a very benevolent character, or in some particular situation of life that the welfare of the poor or the helpless depended on him, I think it an event of the most trifling moment to the world. Man is naturally a kind, benevolent animal, but he is dropped into such a needy situation here in this vexatious world, and has such a whore-son, hungry, growling, multiplying pack of necessities, appetites, passions, and desires about him, ready to devour him for want of other food, that in fact he must lay aside his cares for others that he may look properly to himself. You have been imposed upon in paying Mr Miers for the profile of a Mr H. I did not mention it in my letter to you, nor did I ever give Mr Miers any such order. I have no objection to lose the money, but I will not have any such profile in my possession. I desired the carrier to pay you; but as I mentioned only fifteen shillings to him, I will rather enclose you a guinea-note. I have it not, indeed, to spare here, as I am only a sojourner in a strange land in this place; but in a day or two I return to Mauchline, and there I have the bank-notes through the house like salt-permits. There is a great degree of folly in talking unnecessarily of one's private affairs. I have just now been interrupted by one of my new neighbours, who has made himself absolutely contemptible in my eyes by his silly garrulous pruriency. I know it has been a fault of my own too; but from this moment I abjure it as I would the service of hell! Your poets, spendthrifts, and other fools of that kidney, pretend, forsooth, to crack their jokes on prudence; but 'tis a squalid vagabond glorying in his rags. Still, imprudence respecting money-matters is much more pardonable than imprudence respecting character. I have no objection to prefer prodigality to avarice in some few instances; but I appeal to your observation, if you have not met, and often met, with the same disingenuousness, the same hollow-hearted insincerity and 'Mr Samuel Mitchelson, W.S., had been Mr Ainslie's master: he died June 21, 1788. |