ET. 35.] YOU'RE WELCOME TO DESPOTS. Come, in thy raven plumage, Night! 61 YOU'RE WELCOME TO DESPOTS, DUMOURIER. Burns was not quite a silent and complying observer of the war carried on against the patriotic party in France. When General Dumourier, after unparalleled victories, deserted the army of the Republic, April 5, 1793, only prevented by narrow accidents from betraying his troops into the hands of the enemy, some one expressing joy in the event where Burns was present, he chanted almost extempore the following verses to the tune of Robin Adair. YOU'RE welcome to Despots, Dumourier; Ay, and Beurnonville too? 1 Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier? 1 Dampierre was one of Dumourier's generals, whom he expected to desert along with him. Beurnonville was an I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will take my chance with you; By my soul, I'll dance a dance with you, Du mourier. Then let us fight about, Dumourier; The sentiments expressed in this song are not pleasing. They hint at a discreditable passion, in which no pure mind could possibly sympathize; therefore they must be held as unfitted for song. It can scarcely be doubted that they were suggested by some roving sensations of the bard towards the too-witching Mrs. Riddel, though that these bore no great proportion to the emissary of the Convention, so much his friend that he had similar hopes of him, which, however, were disappointed The latter person lived to figure in the crisis of the Restoration in 1814. ET. 35. LAST TIME I CAME O'ER THE MOOR. 63 mere métier of the artist aiming at a certain literary effect is equally probable. It will be found that Burns afterwards made considerable alterations in the song. THE last time I came o'er the moor, And left Maria's dwelling, What throes, what tortures passing cure, To feel a fire in every vein, Love's veriest wretch, despairing, I I know my doom must be despair, Thou wilt nor canst relieve me; But, O Maria, hear my prayer, The music of thy tongue I heard, The wheeling torrent viewing, April, 1793. BLITHE HAE I BEEN ON YON HILL. TUNE-Liggeram Cosh. BLITHE hae I been on yon hill, Heavy, heavy is the task, Hopeless love declaring; Trembling, I dow nocht but glower, Sighing, dumb, despairing! If she winna ease the thraws In my bosom swelling, Underneath the grass-green sod, Soon main be my dwelling. can- stare June, 1793. throes "Have you ever, my dear sir, felt your bosom ready to burst with indignation, on reading of those mighty villains who divide kingdom against kingdom, desolate provinces, and lay nations waste, out of the wantonness of ambition, or often from still more ignoble passions? In a mood of this kind to-day I recollected the air of Logan Water, and it occurred to me that its querulous melody probably had its origin from the plaintive indignation of some swelling, suffering heart, fired at the tyrannic strides of some public destroyer, and overwhelmed with private distress, the consequence of a country's ruin. If I have done anything 1 The air of Logan Water is old, and there are several old songs to it. Immediately before the rise of Burns, Mr. John Mayne, who afterwards became known for a poem, entitled the Siller Gun, wrote a very agreeable song to the air, beginning, "By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep." It was published in the Star newspaper, May 23, 1789. Burns having heard that song, and supposing it to be an old composition, adopted into the above a couplet from it, which he admired "While my dear lad maun face his faes, |