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MR. THOMSON to Mr. BURNS.
Edinburgh, 27th October, 1794, I AM sensible, my dear friend, that a genuine poet can no more exist without his mistress than his meat. I wish I knew the adorable she, whose bright eyes and witching smiles have so often enraptured the Scottish bard! that I might drink her sweet health when the toast is going round. Craigie-burn-wood must certainly be adopted into my family, since she is the object of the song; but in the name of decency I must beg a new chorus verse from
you. O to be lying beyond thee dearie, is perhaps a consummation to be wished, but will not do for singing in the company of ladies. The
in your last will do you lasting credit, and suit the respective airs charmingly. I am perfectly of your opinion with respect to the additional airs. The idea of sending them into the world naked as they were born was ungenerous. They
must all be clothed and made decent by our friend Clarke.
I find I am anticipated by the friendly Cunningham in sending you Ritson's Scottish collection. Permit me, therefore, to present you with his English collection, which you will receive by the coach. I do not find his historical essay on Scottish song interesting. Your anecdotes and miscellaneous remarks will, I am sure, be much more so. Allan has just sketched a charming design from Maggie Lauder. She is dancing with such spirit as to electrify the piper, who seems almost dancing too, while he is playing with the most exquisite glee. I am much inclined to get a small copy, and to have it engraved in the style of Ritson's prints.
P. S. Pray what do your anecdotes say concerning Maggie Lauder? was she a real personage, and of what rank? You would surely spier for her if you ca'd at Anstruther town.
MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON.
November, 1794. Many thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your present: it is a book of the utmost importance to me.
I have yesterday begun my anecdotes, &c. for your work. I intend drawing it up in the form of a letter to you, which will save me from the tedious dull business of systematic arrangement. Indeed, as all I have to say consists of unconnected remarks, anecdotes, scraps of old songs, &c. it would be impossible to give the work a beginning, a middle, and an end, which the critics insist to be absolutely necessary in a work.* In my last, I told you my objections to the song you had
* It does not appear whether Burns completed these anecdotes, &c. Something of the kind (probably the rude draughts) was found amongst his papers, and appears in vol. ii.
selected for My Lodging is on the cold ground. On my
visit the other day to my fair Chloris, (that is the poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration) she suggested an idea, which 1, in my return from the visit, wrought into the following song.
My Chloris, mark how
groves, The primrose banks how fair ; The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flaxen hair.
The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings:
To shepherds as to kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
In lordly lighted ha':
Blythe, in the birken shaw.
The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
Beneath the milk-white thorn?
The shepherd, in the flowery glen,
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
But is his heart as true?
These wild wood-flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:
But 'tis na love like mine.
How do you like the simplicity and tenderness of this pastoral ? I think it pretty well.
I like you for entering so candidly and so kindly into the story of Ma chere Amie. I assure you I was never more in earnest in
life, than in the account of that affair which I sent you in my last.—Conjugal love is a passion which I deeply feel, and highly venerate; but, somehow, it does not make such a figure in poesy as that other species of the passion,
“ Where Love is liberty, and Nature law."
Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet; while the last has