Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare, To thy new lover hie, What peace is there!. By the way, I have met with a musical Highlander in Breadalbane's Fencibles, which are quartered here, who assures me that he well remembers his mother's singing Gaelic songs to both Robin Adair,' and Gramachree.' They certainly have more of the Scotch than Irish taste in them. This man comes from the vicinity of Inverness: so it could not be any intercourse with Ireland that could bring them ;-except, what I shrewdly suspect to be the case, the wandering minstrels, harpers, and pipers, used to go frequently errant through the wilds both of Scotland and Ireland, and so some favourite airs might be common to both. A case in point-they have lately, in Ireland, published an Irish air, as they say, called Caun du delish.' The fact is, in a publication of Corri's, a great while ago, you will find the same air, called a Highland one, with a Gaelic song set to it. Its name there, I think, is 'Oran Gaoil,' and a fine air it is. Do ask honest Allan, or the Rev. Gaelic parson,* about these matters. No. XXXIV. BURNS TO MR THOMSON. MY DEAR SIR, August, 1793. • LET me in this ae night,' I will reconsider. I am glad that you are pleased with my song, Had I a cave,' &c. as I liked it myself. *The Gaelic parson referred to, was, we are informed, the Rev. Joseph Robertson Macgregor. I walked out yesterday evening with a volume of the Museum in my hand, when, turning up Allan Water,' "What numbers shall the muse repeat," &c. as the words appeared to me rather unworthy of so fine an air, and recollecting that it is on your list, I sat and raved under the shade of an old thorn, till I wrote one to suit the measure. I may be wrong; but I think it not in my worst style. You must know, that in Ramsay's Tea-table, where the modern song first appeared, the ancient name of the tune, Allan says, is ́ Allan Water,' or 'My love Annie's very bonnie.' This last has certainly been a line of the original song; so I took up the idea, and, as you will see, have introduced the line in its place, which I presume it formerly occupied ; though I likewise give you a choosing line, if it should not hit the cut of your fancy: : BY ALLAN STREAM. By Allan-stream I chanc'd to rove, I listen'd to a lover's sang, And thought on youthfu' pleasures many; O dearly do I love thee, Annie !+ O happy be the woodbine bower, Nor ever sorrow stain the hour, The place and time I met my dearie! Her head upon my throbbing breast, While mony a kiss the seal imprest, The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. * A mountain west of Strath-Allan, 3,009 feet high.-R. B. Or, "O my love Annie's very bonnie."-R. B. The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae, Is autumn in her weeds o' yellow! Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure, Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure? think so Bravo! say I it is a good song. Should you too, (not else,) you can set the music to it, and let the other follow as English verses. Autumn is my propitious season. I make more verses in it than all the year else. God bless you! No. XXXV. BURNS TO MR THOMSON. August, 1793. Is Whistle and I'll come to you, my lad,' one of your airs? I admire it much; and yesterday I set the following verses to it. Urbani, whom I have met with here, begged them of me, as he admires the air much; but as I understand that he looks with rather an evil eye on your work, I did not choose to comply. However, if the song does not suit your taste, I may possibly send it him. The set of the air which I had in my eye is in Johnson's Museum. O WHISTLE AND I'LL COME TO YOU. O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad, But warily tent, when you come to court me, At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, Yet look as ye were na lookin at me. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, Another favourite air of mine is, 'The muckin o' Geordie's byre.' When sung slow with expression, I have wished that it had had better poetry; that I have endeavoured to supply as follows : ADOWN WINDING NITH. Adown winding Nith I did wander, To mark the sweet flowers as they spring; * In some of the MSS. the four first lines of this song run thus: "O whistle, and I'll come to thee, my jo, O whistle, and I'll come to thee, my jo; Tho' father and mother and a' should say no, L Currie. Adown winding Nith I did wander, Has met wi' the queen o' the fair. The daisy amus'd my fond fancy, Awa' wi' your belles, &c. The rose bud's the blush o' my charmer, Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour, Her voice is the song of the morning, But beauty how frail and how fleeting, Awa wi' your belles and your beauties, |