My most respectful compliments to the honourable gentleman who favoured me with a postscript in your last. He shall hear from me and receive his MSS. soon. No. Who comes with woe at this drear night A pilgrim of the gloom? If she whose love did once delight, My cot shall yield her room. Alas! thou heard'st a pilgrim mourn, But should'st thou not poor Marian know, And think the storms that round me blow, It is but doing justice to Dr. Walcott to mention, that his song is the original. Mr. Burns saw it, liked it, and immediately wrote the other on the same subject, which is derived from the old Scottish ballad of uncertain origin. E. No. XIII. MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON. 20th March, 1793. MARY MORISON. Tune-" BIDE YE YET." O MARY, at thy window be, It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! 1 Yestreen when to the trembling string, Tho' Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, MY DEAR SIR, THE HE song prefixed is one of my juvenile works. I leave it in your hands. I do not think it very remarkable, either for its merits or demerits. It is impossible (at least I feel it so in my stinted powers) to be always original, entertaining, and witty. What is become of the list, &c. of your songs? I shall be out of all temper with you by-and-by. I have always looked upon myself as the prince of indolent correspondents, and valued myself accordingly; and I will not, cannot bear rivalship from you, nor any body else. No. No. XIV. MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON. March, 1793. WANDERING WILLIE. HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting; It was nae the blast brought the tear in my e'e: Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers! Awaken ye breezes, row gently ye billows, But But if he's forgotten his faithfullest Nanie, I leave it to you, my dear Sir, to determine whether the above, or the old Thro' the lang muir, be the best. No. XV. MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON. Open the door to me, Oh! WITH ALTERATIONS. 0H open the door, some pity to shew, Oh, open the door to me, Oh!* Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, Oh, open the door to me, Oh! * This second line was originally, Cauld If love it may na be! Oh! E. |