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Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,

But caulder thy love for me, Oh!
The frost that freezes the life at my heart,

Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh!

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,

And time is setting with me, Oh !
False friends, false love, farewell! for mair

I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide ;

She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh ! My true love she cried, and sank down by his side,

Never to rise again, Oh!

I do not know whether this song he really mended.

No.

No. XVI.

MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON.

JESSIE.

Tune" BONNIE DUNDEE."

True hearted was he, the sad swain o'the Yarrow,

And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr, But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,

Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair; To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over ; To equal young

seek it in vain, Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover,

And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

JESSIE you

O fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,

And sweet is the lily at evening close ; But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,

Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;

Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law; And still to her charms she alone is a stranger!

Her modest demeanor's the jewel of a'.

No.

XVII.

MR. THOMSON to MR. BURNS.

Edinburgh, 2d April, 1793.

I will not recognize the title you give yourself, " the Prince of indolent correspondents ;” but if the adjective were taken away,

I think the title would then fit you exactly. It gives me pleasure to find you can furnish anecdotes with respect to most of the songs: these will be a literary curiosity.

!

I now send you my list of the songs, which I believe will be found nearly complete. I have put down the first lines of all the English songs which I propose giving in addition to the Scotch

If any others occur to you, better adapted to the character of the airs, pray mention them, when you favour me with your strictures upon every thing else relating to the work.

verses.

Pleyel has lately sent me a number of the songs, with his symphonies and accompaniments

added

added to them. I wish you were here, that I might serve up some of them to

you
with

your own verses, by way of desert after dinner. There is so much delightful fancy in the symphonies, and such a delicate simplicity in the accompaniments—they are indeed beyond all praise.

I am very much pleased with the several last productions of your muse: your Lord Gregory, in my estimation, is more interesting than Peter's, beautiful as his is ! Your Here awa Willie must undergo some alterations to suit the air. Mr. Erskine and I have been conning it over; he will suggest what is necessary to make them a fit match.*

The

* WANDERING WILLIE,

As altered by Mr. Erskine and Mr. Thomson.

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,

Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame; Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring ́st me my Willie the same.

The gentleman I have mentioned, whose fine taste you are no stranger to, is so well pleased both with the musical and poetical part of our work, that he has volunteered his assistance, and has already written four songs for it, which by his own desire I send for your perusal.

Winter-winds blew loud and caul at our parting,

Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e, Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,

As simmer to nature, so Willie to me.

Rest

ye

wild storms in the cave o' your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Blow soft ye breezes! roll gently ye billows!
And waft

my

dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless and minds na his Nanie,

Flow still between us thou dark-heaving main! May I never see it, may I never trow it,

While dying I think that my Willie's my ain. .

Our poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows:

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here
awa,
there
awa,

haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

VOL. IV.

E

Winter

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