tish verses, to the air of I wish my love was in a mire; and poor Erskine's English lines may follow. I inclose you a For a' that, and a' that, which was never in print: it is a much superior song to mine. I have been told that it was composed by a lady. To Mr. CUNNINGHAM. SCOTTISH SONG. Now spring has clad the grove in green, The trout within yon wimpling burn My life was ance that careless stream, But love, wi' unrelenting beam, The little flow'ret's peaceful lot, Which save the linnet's flight, I wot, Was mine; till love has o'er me past, And now beneath the with'ring blast The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs Winnowing blythe her dewy wings O' witching love, in luckless hour, O had my fate been Greenland snows, Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes, The wretch whase doom is "hope nae mair," SCOTTISH SONG. bonnie was yon rosy brier, That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man; Yon rosebuds in the morning dew How pure, amang the leaves sae green; But purer was the lover's vow They witness'd in their shade yestreen. All in its rude and prickly bower, The pathless wild, and wimpling burn, Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the lady, whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of Chloris. 'Tis friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend, Nor with unwilling ear attend Since thou, in all thy youth and charms, (A world 'gainst peace in constant arms), Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast, Since life's gay scenes must charm no more, Still much is left behind; Still nobler wealth hast thou in store, Thine is the self-approving glow, The joys refin'd of sense and taste, Une bagatelle de l'amitié. Coila. No. LXXVIII. Mr. THOMSON to Mr. BURNS. My dear sir, Edinburgh, 3d Aug. 1795. This will be delivered to you by a Dr. Brianton, who has read your works, and pants for the honour of your acquaintance. I do not know the gentleman, but his friend, who applied to me for this introduction, being an excellent young man, I have no doubt he is worthy of all acceptation. My eyes have just been gladdened, and my mind feasted, with your last packet-full of pleasant things indeed. What an imagination is yours! It is superfluous to tell you, that I am delighted with all the three songs, as well as with your elegant and tender verses to Chloris. I am sorry you should be induced to alter O whistle and I'll come to ye, my lad, to the prosaic line, Thy Jeany will venture wi' ye, my lad. I must be permitted to say, that I do not think the latter either reads or sings so well as the former. I wish, therefore, you would in my name petition the charming Jeany, whoever she be, to let the line remain unaltered". I should be happy to see Mr. Clarke produce a few airs to be joined to your verses. Every body regrets his writing so very little, as every body aeknowledges his ability to write well. Pray was the resolution formed coolly before dinner, or was it a midnight vow made over a bowl of punch with the bard? I shall not fail to give Mr. Cunningham what you have sent him. * The editor, who has heard the heroine of this song sing it herself in the very spirit of arch simplicity that it requires, thinks Mr. Thomson's petition unreasonable. If we mistake not, this is the same lady who produced the lines to the tune of Roy's Wife, p. 135. E. P. S. The lady's For a' that and a' that, is sensible enough, but no more to be compared to yours than I to Hercules. No. LXXIX. Mr. BURNS to Mr. THOMSON. ENGLISH SONG. Tune-" Let me in this ae night." Forlorn, my love, no comfort near, CHORUS. O wert thou, love, but near me, How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, Around me scowls a wintry sky, Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part, But dreary tho' the moments fleet, |