No. XV.

BURNS TO MR THOMSON.

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH!

WITH ALTERATIONS.

Oн, open the door, some pity to show,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh !*

Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
But caulder thy love for me, Oh!
The frost that freezes the life at my heart,
Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh!

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,
And time is setting with me, Oh!

False friends, false love, farewell! for mair
I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide ;
She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh!

My true love! she cried, and sank down by his side,
Never to rise again, Oh!

I do not know whether this song be really mended.

• This second line was originally, "If love it may na be, Oh !”

No. XVI.

BURNS TO MR THOMSON.

JESSIE.*

Tune-"Bonnie Dundee."

TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr,
But by the sweet side of the Nith's winding river,
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair;
To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;
To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain ;
Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard insnaring,
Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law:
And still to her charms she alone is a stranger!
Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'.

No. XVII.

MR THOMSON TO BURNS.

EDINBURGH, 2d April, 1793.

I WILL not recognise the title you give yourself, "the Prince of indolent correspondents;" but if the adjective were taken away, I think the title would then fit you ex

* The heroine of this song was Miss Jessie Staig, who married Major Miller, second son of Mr Miller of Dalswinton. She died young.-M.

actly. It gives me pleasure to find you can furnish anecdotes with respect to most of the songs: these will be a literary curiosity.

I now send you my list of the songs, which I believe will be found nearly complete. I have put down the first lines of all the English songs which I propose giving in addition to the Scotch verses. If any others occur to you, better adapted to the character of the airs, pray mention them, when you favour me with your strictures upon every thing else relating to the work.

Pleyel has lately sent me a number of the songs, with his symphonies and accompaniments added to them. I wish you were here, that I might serve up some of them to you with your own verses, by way of dessert after dinner. There is so much delightful fancy in the symphonies, and such a delicate simplicity in the accompaniments-they are indeed beyond all praise.

I am very much pleased with the several last productions of your muse your Lord Gregory,' in my estimation, is more interesting than Peter's, beautiful as his is! Your

Here awa, Willie,' must undergo some alterations to suit the air. Mr Erskine and I have been conning it over; he will suggest what is necessary to make them a fit match.*

WANDERING WILLIE,

AS ALTERED BY MR ERSKINE AND MR THOMSON.

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Winter-winds blew loud and caul at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e,
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,
As simmer to nature, so Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!

H

The gentleman I have mentioned, whose fine taste you are no stranger to, is so well-pleased both with the musical and poetical part of our work, that he has volunteered his assistance, and has already written four songs for it, which by his own desire I send for your perusal.

Blow soft ye breezes ! roll gently ye billows!
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless and minds na his Nannie,
Flow still between us thou dark-heaving main !
May I never see it, may I never trow it,

While dying I think that my Willie's my ain.

Our poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows:

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e;
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Wauken ye breezes, row gently ye billows,

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie,
Flow still between us thou wide-roaring main !
May I never see it, may I never trow it,

But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.

Several of the alterations seem to be of little importance in hemselves, and were adopted, it may be presumed, for the sake of suiting the words better to the music. The Homeric epithet for the sea, dark-heaving, suggested by Mr Erskine, is in itself more beautiful, as well perhaps as more sublime, than wide-roaring, which he has retained, but as it is only applicable to a placid state of the sea, or at most to the swell left on its surface after the storm is over, it gives a picture of that element not so well

No. XVIII.

BURNS TO MR THOMSON.

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST.
Tune-" The Mill, Mill, O."

WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
And mony a widow mourning :*
I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.

A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder:
And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I cheery on did wander.
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
I thought upon my Nancy;
I thought upon the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.

At length I reach'd the bonny glen,
Where early life I sported;

adapted to the ideas of eternal separation, which the fair mourner is supposed to imprecate. From the original song of Here awa, Willie,' Burns has borrowed nothing but the second line and part of the first. The superior excellence of this beautiful poem will, it is hoped, justify the different editions of it which we have given. Currie.

* Variation, lines 3d and 4th:

"And eyes again with pleasure beam'd,
That had been blear'd with mourning."

See No. XXIV.