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no

Alas! what heavy-laden sounds are these "No more!" The wretch who has never tasted pleasure has never known wo; what drives the soul to madness is the recollection of joys that are more!" But this is not language to the world—they do not understand it. But come, ye few-the children of Feeling and Sentiment!-ye whose trembling bosom-chords ache to unutterable anguish as recollection gushes on the heart!—ye who are capable of an attachment keen as the arrow of Death, and strong as the vigour of immortal being-come! and your ears shall drink a tale-But, hush! I must not, cannot tell it; agony is in the recollection, and frenzy in the recital!

But, madam, to leave the paths that lead to madness, I congratulate your friends on your return; and I hope that the precious health, which Miss P. tells me is so much injured, is restored or restoring. There is a fatality attends Miss Peacock's correspondence and mine. Two of my letters, it seems, she never received; and her last came while I was in Ayrshire, was unfortunately mislaid, and only found about ten days or a fortnight ago, on removing a desk of drawers.

I present you a book-may I hope you will accept of it. I daresay you will have brought your books with you. The fourth volume of the Scots Songs is published; I will presume to send it you. Shall I hear from you? But first hear me. No cold language-no prudential documents: I despise advice and scorn control. If you are not to write such language, such sentiments as you know I shall wish, shall delight to receive, I conjure you, by wounded pride, by ruined peace, by frantic, disappointed passion, by all the many ills that constitute that sum of human woes, a broken heart !!!-to me be silent for ever. * * R. B.

*

CCLXXVIII.

TO MR CUNNINGHAM.

3d March 1793.

SINCE I wrote to you the last lugubrious sheet, I have not had time to write you farther. When I say that I had not time, that, as usual, means that the three demons-Indolence, Business, and Eunui-have so completely shared my hours among them as not to leave me a five minutes' fragment to take up a pen in.

Thank Heaven, I feel my spirits buoying upwards with the renovating year. Now I shall in good earnest take up Thomson's songs. I daresay he thinks I have used him unkindly; and, I must own, with too much appearance of truth. Apropos, do you know the much-admired old Highland air called The Sutor's Dochter? It is a first-rate favourite of mine, and I have written what I reckon one of my best songs to it. I will send it to you as

it was sung, with great applause, in some fashionable circles, by Major Robertson of Lude, who was here with his corps.

There is one commission that I must trouble you with. I lately lost a valuable seal, a present from a departed friend, which vexes me much. I have gotten one of your Highland pebbles, which I fancy would make a very decent one, and I want to cut my armorial bearing on it: will you be so obliging as inquire what will be the expense of such a business? I do not know that my name is matriculated, as the heralds call it, at all, but I have invented arms for myself; so, you know, I shall be chief of the name, and, by courtesy of Scotland, will likewise be entitled to supporters. These, however, I do not intend having on my seal. I am a bit of a herald, and shall give you, secundum artem, my arms. On a field, azure, a holly-bush, seeded, proper, in base; a shepherd's pipe and crook, saltier-wise, also proper, in chief. On a wreath of the colours, a woodlark perching on a sprig of bay-tree, proper, for crest. Two mottoes: round the top of the crest, Wood-notes wild; at the bottom of the shield, in the usual place, Better a wee bush than nae bield. By the shepherd's pipe and crook I do not mean the nonsense of painters of Arcadia, but a stock and horn, and a club, such as you see at the head of Allan Ramsay, in Allan's quarto edition of the Gentle Shepherd. By the by, do you know Allan? He must be a man of very great genius. Why is he not more known? Has he no patrons ?-or do " Poverty's cold wind and crushing rain beat keen and heavy" on him? I once, and but once, got a glance of that noble edition of the noblest pastoral in the world; and dear as it was-I mean dear as to my pocket-I would have bought it, but I was told that it was printed and engraved for subscribers only. artist who has hit genuine pastoral costume. Cunningham, is there in riches that they narrow and harden the heart so? think, that were I as rich as the sun, I should be as generous as the day; but as I have no reason to imagine my soul a nobler one than any other man's, I must conclude that wealth imparts a bird-lime quality to the possessor, at which the man in his native poverty would have revolted. What has led me to this is the idea of such merit as Mr Allan possesses, and such riches as a nabob or government contractor possesses, and why they do not form a mutual league. Let wealth shelter and cherish unprotected merit, and the gratitude and celebrity of that merit will richly repay it.

He is the only What, my dear

R. B.

CCLXXIX.

TO MR THOMSON.

20th March 1793.

MY DEAR SIR,-The song prefixed (Mary Morison) is one of my juvenile works. I leave it in your hands. I do not think it very remarkable, either for its merits or demerits. It is impossible-at least I feel it so in my stinted powers-to be always original, entertaining, and witty.

What is become of the list, &c., of your songs? I shall be out of all temper with you by and by. I have always looked on myself as the prince of indolent correspondents, and valued myself accordingly and I will not, cannot, bear rivalship from you nor anybody else. R. B.

CCLXXX.

TO MISS BENSON.

DUMFRIES, 21st March 1793. MADAM,-Among many things for which I envy those hale, long-lived old fellows before the Flood, is this, in particular -that when they met with anybody after their own heart, they had a charming long prospect of many, many happy meetings with them in after-life.

Now, in this short, stormy winter-day of our fleeting existence, when you, now and then, in the chapter of accidents, meet an individual whose acquaintance is a real acquisition, there are all the probabilities against you that you shall never meet with that valued character more. On the other hand, brief as this miserable being is, it is none of the least of the miseries belonging to it, that if there is any miscreant whom you hate, or creature whom you despise, the ill run of the chances shall be so against you, that in the overtakings, turnings, and jostlings of life, pop, at some unlucky corner, eternally comes the wretch upon you, and will not allow your indignation or contempt a moment's repose. As I am a sturdy believer in the powers of darkness, I take these to be the doings of that old author of mischief, the Devil. It is well known that he has some kind of short-hand way of taking down our thoughts; and I make no doubt that he is perfectly acquainted with my sentiments respecting Miss Benson: how much I admired her abilities and valued her worth, and how very fortunate I thought myself in her acquaintance. For this last reason, my dear madam, I must entertain no hopes of the very great pleasure of meeting with you again.

Miss Hamilton tells me that she is sending a packet to you,

and I beg leave to send you the enclosed sonnet; though, to tell you the real truth, the sonnet is a mere pretence, that I may have the opportunity of declaring with how much respectful esteem I have the honour to be, &c. R. B.

CCLXXXI.

TO THE HON. THE PROVOST, BAILIES, AND TOWNCOUNCIL OF DUMFRIES.

GENTLEMEN,-The literary taste and liberal spirit of your good town has so ably filled the various departments of your schools, as to make it a very great object for a parent to have his children educated in them. Still to me, a stranger, to give my young ones that education I wish, at the high school-fees which a stranger pays, will bear hard upon me.

Some years ago, your good town did me the honour of making me an honorary burgess. Will you allow me to request that this mark of distinction may extend so far as to put me on the footing of a real freeman of the town in the schools?

If you are so very kind as to grant my request, it will certainly be a constant incentive to me to strain every nerve where I can officially serve you, and will, if possible, increase that grateful respect with which I have the honour to be, gentlemen, &c.

R. B.

CCLXXXII.

TO PATRICK MILLER, ESQ., OF DALSWINTON.

DUMFRIES, April 1793. SIR,-My Poems having just come out in another edition, will you do me the honour to accept of a copy?—a mark of my gratitude to you, as a gentleman to whose goodness I have been much indebted; of my respect for you, as a patriot who, in a venal, sliding age, stands forth the champion of the liberties of my country; and of my veneration for you, as a man whose benevolence of heart does honour to human nature.

There was a time, sir, when I was your dependent: this language then would have been like the vile incense of flattery-I could not have used it. Now that that connection is at an end, do me the honour to accept of this honest tribute of respect from, sir, your much indebted humble servant,

R. B.

CCLXXXIII.

TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ., DRUMLANRIG.

DUMFRIES, 1793.

WILL Mr McMurdo do me the favour to accept of these volumes? -a trifling but sincere mark of the very high respect I bear for his worth as a man, his manners as a gentleman, and his kindness as a friend. However inferior now, or afterwards, I may rank as a poet, one honest virtue to which few poets can pretend, I trust I shall ever claim as mine-to no man, whatever his station in life, or his power to serve me, have I ever paid a compliment at the expense of TRUTH. THE AUTHOR.

CCLXXXIV.

TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN.

MY LORD,-When you cast your eye on the name at the bottom of this letter, and on the title-page of the book I do myself the honour to send your lordship, a more pleasurable feeling than my vanity tells me that it must be a name not entirely unknown to you. The generous patronage of your late illustrious brother found me in the lowest obscurity. He introduced my rustic Muse to the partiality of my country; and to him I owe all. My sense of his goodness, and the anguish of my soul at losing my truly noble protector and friend, I have endeavoured to express in a poem to his memory, which I have now published. This edition is just from the press; and in my gratitude to the dead, and my respect for the living (fame belies you, my lord, if you possess not the same dignity of man, which was your noble brother's characteristic feature), I had destined a copy for the Earl of Glencairn. I learnt just now that you are in town: allow me to present it you.

I know, my lord, such is the vile, venal contagion which pervades the world of letters, that professions of respect from an author, particularly from a poet to a lord, are more than suspicious. I claim my by-past conduct, and my feelings at this moment, as exceptions to the too just conclusion. Exalted as are the honours of your lordship's name, and unnoted as is the obscurity of mine, with the uprightness of an honest ma., I come before your lordship, with an offering-however humble, 'tis all I have to give -of my grateful respect; and to beg of you, my lord,-'tis all I have to ask of you,-that you will do me the honour to accept of it. I have the honour to be, R. B.