how much you have been afflicted of late, but I trust that returning health and spirits will now enable you to resume the pen, and delight us with your musings. I have still about a dozen Scotch and Irish airs that I wish "married to immortal verse." We have several true born Irishman on the Scottish list; but they are now naturalized, and reckoned our own good subjects. Indeed, we have none better. I believe I before told you that I have been much urged by some friends to publish a collection of all our favourite airs and songs in octavo, embellished with a number of etchings by our ingenious friend Allan; what is your opinion of this? No. LXXXV. BURNS TO MR THOMSON. February, 1796. MANY thanks, my dear Sir, for your handsome, elegant present to Mrs Burns, and for my remaining volume of P. Pindar.-Peter is a delightful fellow, and a first favourite of mine. I am much pleased with your idea of publishing a collection of our songs in octavo with etchings. I am extremely willing to lend every assistance in my power. The Irish airs I shall cheerfully undertake the task of finding verses for. I have already, you know, equipt three with words, and the other day I strung up a kind of rhapsody to another Hibernian melody, which I admire much. HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER. Tune-"Balinamona ora. Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; The nice yellow guineas for me. Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes, And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, The nice yellow guineas for me. If this will do, you have now four of my Irish engagement. In my by-past songs I dislike one thing; the name Chloris-I meant it as the fictitious name of a certain lady : but, on second thoughts, it is a high incongruity to have a Greek appellation to a Scottish pastoral ballad.—Of this, and some things else, in my next: I have more amendments to propose.-What you once mentioned of "flaxen locks" is just they cannot enter into an elegant descrip tion of beauty. Of this also again-God bless you!* *"Our Poet never explained what name he would have substituted for Chloris."-Note by Mr Thomson. We agree with his good taste, however, in resolving to reject it.-M. No. LXXXVI. MR THOMSON TO BURNS. YOUR 'Hey for a lass wi' a tocher,' is a most excellent song, and with you the subject is something new indeed. It is the first time I have seen you debasing the god of soft desire, into an amateur of acres and guineas.— I am happy to find you approve of my proposed octavo edition. Allan has designed and etched about twenty plates, and I am to have my choice of them for that work. Independently of the Hogarthian humour with which they abound, they exhibit the character and costume of the Scottish peasantry with inimitable felicity. In this respect he himself says, they will far exceed the aquatinta plates he did for the Gentle Shepherd, because in the etching he sees clearly what he is doing, but not so with the aquatinta, which he could not manage to his mind. The Dutch boors of Ostade are scarcely more characteristic and natural than the Scottish figures in those etchings. No. LXXXVII. BURNS TO MR THOMSON. April, 1796. ALAS, my dear Thomson, I fear it will be some time ere I tune my lyre again! By Babel streams I have sat and wept,” almost ever since I wrote you last: I have only known existence by the pressure of the heavy hand of sickness, and have counted time by the repercussions of pain! Rheumatism, cold, and fever, have formed to me a terrible combination. I close my eyes in misery, and open them without hope. I look on the vernal day, and say, with poor Fergusson "Say wherefore has an all-indulgent Heaven Light to the comfortless and wretched given ?" This will be delivered to you by a Mrs Hyslop, landlady of the Globe Tavern here, which for these many years has been my howff, and where our friend Clarke and I have had many a merry squeeze.* I am highly delighted with Mr * Like the Boar's Head in Eastcheap, and the Mermaid in Friday-street, London, immortalized as these have been by the genius and wit of Shakspeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, and Ben Jonson, and many other of the prime spirits of their age, so the Globe Tavern in Dumfries, the favourite haunt of our Poet, while resident in that town, appears to be destined to a similar acceptation in the eyes of posterity. Unacquainted as we are with the localities of Dumfries, we are constrained to borrow from Allan Cunningham's edition of Burns' works, the following description of the tavern in question, and anecdote respecting the Poet:-"The 'howff" of which Burns speaks, was a small, comfortable tavern, situated in the mouth of the Globe close, and it held at that time the rank as third among the houses of public accommodation in Dumfries. The excellence of the drink and the attentions of the proprietor were not, however, all its attractions: Anna with the gowden locks' was one of the ministering damsels of the establishment: customers loved to be served by one who was not only cheerful, but whose charms were celebrated by the Bard of Kyle. On one of the last visits paid by the Poet, the wine of the howff' was more than commonly strong-or, served by Anna, it went more glibly over than usual; and when he rose to begone, he found he could do no more than keep his balance. The night was frosty and the hour late the Poet sat down on the steps of a door between the tavern and his own house, fell asleep, and did not awaken till he was almost dead with cold. To this exposure his illness has been imputed; and no doubt it contributed, with disappointed hope and insulted pride, to bring him to an early grave.' On the panes of glass in the Globe, Burns was frequently in the habit of writing many of his witty jeux d'esprit, as well as fragmentary portions of his most celebrated songs. We fear these precious relics have now been wholly abstracted by the lovers and collectors of literary rarities. In the possession of John Speirs, Esq. of this city, we have seen one of these panes of glass, upon which is written in Burns' autograph, the following verse of 'Sae flaxen were her ringlets,' a song given in a preceding portion of this volume : Hers are the willing chains of love, By conquering Beauty's sovereign law; But still my Chloris' dearest charm, M. Allan's etchings. "Woo'd and married an' a', is admirable. The grouping is beyond all praise. The expression of the figures, conformable to the story in the ballad, is absolutely faultless perfection. I next admire Turnimspike.' What I like least is, 'Jenny said to Jocky.' Besides the female being in her appearance * * * * * if you take her stooping into the account, she is at least two inches taller than her lover. Poor Cleghorn! I sincerely sympathize with him! Happy I am to think that he yet has a well-grounded hope of health and enjoyment in this world. As for me-but that is a damn'd subject! No. LXXXVIII. MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 4th May, 1796. I NEED not tell you, my good Sir, what concern the receipt of your last gave me, and how much I sympathize in your sufferings. But do not, I beseech you, give yourself up to despondency, nor speak the language of despair. The vigour of your constitution, I trust, will soon set you on your feet again; and then it is to be hoped you will see the wisdom and the necessity of taking due care of a life so valuable to your family, to your friends, and to the world. Trusting that your next will bring agreeable accounts of your convalescence, and returning good spirits, I remain, with sincere regard, yours. P. S. Mrs Hyslop, I doubt not, delivered the gold seal to you in good condition. * * Regarding this seal Mr Cunningham has the following interesting notice :-"On this gold seal the Poet caused his coat of arms to be engraven :-viz. a small bush; a bird singing; the legend 'woodnotes wild,' with the motto 'better hae a wee bush than nae bield.' This precious relic is now in the proper keeping of the Poet's brother-in-law, Robert Armour, of Old 'Change, London."-M. |