Whilst thou didst pledge the Powers above To be my ain dear Willy. HE. As songsters of the early year SHE. As on the brier the budding rose HE. The milder sun and bluer sky, That crown my harvest cares wi' joy, SHE. The little swallow's wanton wing, Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring, HE. The bee that thro' the sunny hour SHE. The woodbine in the dewy weet When evening shades in silence meet, Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet As is a kiss o' Willy. HE. Let fortune's wheel at random rin, And fools may tyne, and knaves may win; SHE. What's a' the joys that gowd can gie! And that's my ain dear Willy. Tell me honestly how you like it; and point out whatever you think faulty. I am much pleased with your idea of singing our songs in alternate stanzas, and regret that you did not hint it to me sooner. In those that remain, I shall have it in my eye. I remember your objections to the name Philly; but it is the common abbreviation of Phillis. Sally, the only other name that suits, has to my ear a vulgarity about it, which unfits it for any thing except burlesque. The legion of Scottish poetasters of the day, whom your brother editor, Mr Ritson, ranks with me, as my coevals, have always mistaken vulgarity for simplicity: whereas, simplicity is as much eloignée from vulgarity, on the one hand, as from affected point and puerile conceit on the other. I agree with you as to the air, Craigie-burn Wood,' that a chorus would in some degree spoil the effect; and shall certainly have none in my projected song to it. It is not however a case in point with Rothemurche;' there, as in 'Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch,' a chorus goes to my taste, well enough. As to the chorus going first, that is the case with Roy's Wife,' as well as Rothemurche.' In fact, in the first part of both tunes, the rhythm is so peculiar and irregular, and on that irregularity depends so much of their beauty, that we must e'en take them with all their wildness, and humour the verse accordingly. Leaving out the start ing note, in both tunes, has, I think, an effect that no regularity could counterbalance the want of. Try, and compare with, O Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch. O Lassie wi' the lint-white locks. Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch. Does not the tameness of the prefixed syllable strike you? In the last case, with the true furor of genius, you strike at once into the wild originality of the air; whereas, in the first insipid method, it is like the grating screw of the pins before the fiddle is brought into tune. This is my taste; if I am wrong, I beg pardon of the cognoscenti. 6 'The Caledonian Hunt' is so charming, that it would make any subject in a song go down; but pathos is certainly its native tongue. Scottish Bacchanalians we certainly want, though the few we have are excellent. For instance, "Todlin hame,' is, for wit and humour, an unparalleled composition; and Andrew and his cutty Gun,' is the work of a master. By the way, are you not quite vexed to think that those men of genius, for such they certainly were, who composed our fine Scottish lyrics, should be unknown? It has given me many a heart-ache. Apropos to Bacchanalian songs in Scottish; I composed one yesterday, for an air I like much—' Lumps o' pudding.' CONTENTED WI' LITTLE. Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang, I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought; My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch, And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch. A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way; No. LXVI. BURNS TO MR THOMSON. SINCE yesterday's penmanship, I have framed a couple of English stanzas, by way of an English song to 'Roy's Wife.' You will allow me, that in this instance, my English corresponds in sentiment with the Scottish. CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS, MY KATY? Tune-" Roy's Wife." Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy? Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear That fickle heart of thine, my Katy! Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy? And canst thou leave me thus for pity? * To this address, in the character of a forsaken lover, a reply was found, on the part of the lady, among the MSS. of our bard, evidently in a female hand-writing. The temptation to give it to the public is irresistible; and if, in so doing, offence should be given to the fair authoress, the beauty of her verses must plead our excuse: Tune-" Roy's Wife." Stay my Willie-yet believe me, For, ah! thou know'st na every pang Wad wring my bosom shouldst thou leave me. Tell me that thou yet art true, And a' my wrongs shall be forgiven, And when this heart proves fause to thee, Yon sun shall cease its course in heaven. But to think I was betrayed, That falsehood e'er our loves should sunder! To take the flow'ret to my breast, And find the guilefu' serpent under. Could I hope thou 'dst ne'er deceive, For, ah! thou know'st na every pang Wad wring my bosom shouldst thou leave me. It may amuse the reader to be told, that on this occasion the gentleman and the lady have exchanged the dialects of their respective countries. The Scottish bard makes his address in pure English: the reply on the part of the lady, in the Scottish dialect, is, if we mistake not, by a young and beautiful Englishwoman.-Currie. The accomplished lady who wrote the reply was Mrs Riddell. She and the poet had quarrelled upon some matter of punctilio, |