"Jocky and Jenny" I would discard, and in its place would put "There's nae luck about the house," which has a very pleasant air; and which is positively the finest love-ballad in that style in the Scottish, or perhaps in any other language. "When she came ben she bobbet," as an air, is more beautiful than either, and in the andante way would unite with a charming sentimental ballad. "Saw ye my Father?" is one of my greatest favourites. The evening before last I wandered out, and began a tender song, in what I think is its native style. I must premise that the old way, and the way to give most effect, is to have no starting note, as the fiddlers call it, but to burst at once into the pathos. Every country girl sings-" Saw ye my Father?" &c. My song is but just begun; and I should like, before I proceed, to know your opinion of it. I have sprinkled it with the Scottish dialect, but it may be easily turned into correct English.* "Todlin hame." Urbani mentioned an idea of his, which has long been mine-that this air is highly susceptible of pathos: accordingly, you will soon hear him at your concert try it to a song of mine in the Museum-"Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon." One song more and I have done"Auld lang syne." The air is but mediocre; but the following song, the old song of the olden times, This song begins, "Where are the joys I hae met in the morning." and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down from an old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air : AULD LANG SYNE. I. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne! II. We twa hae run about the braes, But we've wandered mony a weary foot, Sin auld lang syne. III. We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, Frae mornin' sun till dine : But seas between us braid hae roar'd, Sin auld lang syne. IV. And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, V. And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne! Now, I suppose, I have tired your patience fairly. You must, after all is over, have a number of ballads, properly so called. "Gil'Morice," "Tranent Muir," "Macpherson's farewell," "Battle of Sheriff Muir," or, "We ran and they ran" (I know the author of this charming ballad, and his history), 66 Hardiknute," "Barbara Allan" (I can furnish a finer set of this tune than any that has yet appeared); and besides do you know that I really have the old tune to which "The Cherry and the Slae" was sung ; and which is mentioned as a well known air in "Scotland's Complaint," a book published before poor Mary's days. It was then called, "The banks o' Helicon ;" an old poem which Pinkerton has brought to light. You will see all this in Tytler's history of Scottish music. The tune, to a learned ear, may have no great merit; but it is a great curiosity. I have a good many original things of this kind. ["Auld Lang Syne" is one of those lyrics which owes its conception to the olden muse, and all the beauty of its language and sentiment to the modern. Burns in troduced it to Thomson as an effort of an old minstrel, and he wrote thus to Mrs. Dunlop :-"Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who composed this glorious fragment!" In this sentiment millions will concur. To inquire how much of the song is old is to go into the regions of conjecture; for my own part, I have no hesitation in assigning the second, third, and fourth verses to Burns. As he professed to have taken it down from the lips of an old man-one of those old men whom true poets alone can meet with-we need not seek for the original in our collections. The "Auld Lang Syne" of Ramsay's Miscellany helps us to a line or so: "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, These are the noble hero's lot, Obtained in glorious wars." That Ramsay rejected such a song as the modern "Auld Lang Syne," no one but a resolute antiquarian would assert. I am inclined to think that Allan left few old songs out of his collection, save those that were so wild as to daunt even the people of an age who loved intrepid simplicity of language."—ED.] No. XLIII. BURNS TO G. THOMSON. September, 1793. I AM happy, my dear Sir, that my ode pleases you so much. Your idea, "honour's bed," is, though a beautiful, a hackneyed idea; so, if you please, we will let the line stand as it is. I have ́altered the song as follows: BANNOCKBURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. I. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Or to glorious victorie! II. Now's the day, and now's the hour- See approach proud Edward's power- III. Wha will be a traitor-knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Traitor coward! turn and flee? |