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No. LXI.

G. THOMSON TO BURNS.

Edinburgh, October 27, 1794.

I AM sensible, my dear friend, that a genuine poet. can no more exist without his mistress than his meat. I wish I knew the adorable she, whose bright eyes and witching smiles have so often enraptured the Scottish bard, that I might drink her sweet health when the toast is going round. "Craigie-burn Wood" must certainly be adopted into my family, since she is the object of the song; but, in the name of decency, I must beg a new chorus verse from you. 66 "O to be lying beyond thee, dearie,” is, perhaps, a consummation to be wished, but will not do for singing in the company of ladies. The songs in your last will do you lasting credit, and suit the respective airs charmingly. I am perfectly of your opinion with respect to the additional airs: the idea of sending them into the world naked as they were born was ungenerous. They must all be clothed and made decent by our friend Clarke.

I find I am anticipated by the friendly Cunningham in sending you Ritson's Scottish Collection. Permit me, therefore, to present you with his English Collection, which you will receive by the coach. I do not find his historical essay on Scottish song interesting. Your anecdotes and miscellaneous remarks will, I am sure, be much more so. Allan

has just sketched a charming design from "Maggie Lauder." She is dancing with such spirit as to electrify the piper, who seems almost dancing too, while he is playing with the most exquisite glee. I am much inclined to get a small copy, and to have it engraved in the style of Ritson's prints.

P.S. Pray what do your anecdotes say concerning "Maggie Lauder ?" Was she a real personage, and of what rank? You would surely "spier for her, if you ca'd at Anstruther town."

[Of Maggie Lauder much has been written by annotators, but no light has been thrown upon either her birth-place or her station: she is likely a creation of the minstrel muse, and belongs to the imagination. The mind of the world is essentially prosaic; it loves truth, and rejoices to find that sometimes the characters which fiction presents are derived from originals of flesh and blood. The greater proportion are, nevertheless, ideal; and it is the greatest test, as well as triumph of genius, to pass them as real. How many rustic farmers have contended for the honour of sitting for Dandie Dinmont! several are still pointed out as the prototypes of Tam O'Shanter; and, on walking down the Minories, one cannot help looking from side to side for the sign of Isaac Rapine, the money-broker. These are the victories achieved by genius. Maggie Lauder has lately obtained a longer lease of life at the hands of a northern poet. She is the heroine in Tennant's Anster Fair, a poem of great originality as well as force the forerunner of what has been called the Beppo school of verse.-ED.]

No. LXII.

BURNS TO G. THOMSON.

November, 1794.

MANY thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your present it is a book of the utmost importance to me. I have yesterday begun my anecdotes, &c., for your work. I intend drawing it up in the form of a letter to you, which will save me from the tedious dull business of systematic arrangement. Indeed, as all I have to say consists of unconnected remarks, anecdotes, scraps of old songs, &c., it would be impossible to give the work a beginning, a middle, and an end, which the critics insist to be absolutely necessary in a work. In my last I told you my objections to the song you had selected for "My lodging is on the cold ground." On my visit the other day to my fair Chloris (that is the poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration), she suggested an idea which I, in my return from the visit, wrought into the following song:

CHLORIS.

I.

My Chloris, mark how

green the groves,

The primrose banks how fair:

The balmy gales awake the flowers,

And wave thy flaxen hair.

II.

The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings:
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.

III.

Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
In lordly lighted ha':

The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blithe, in the birken shaw.

IV.

The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
Beneath the milk-white thorn?

V.

The shepherd, in the flow'ry glen,
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale-

But is his heart as true?

VI.

These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:

The courtier's gems may witness love—
But 'tis na love like mine

How do you like the simplicity and tenderness of this pastoral ?—I think it pretty well.

I like you for entering so candidly and so kindly into the story of "ma chere Amie." I assure you, I was never more in earnest in my life than in the account of that affair which I sent you in my last.Conjugal love is a passion which I deeply feel, and highly venerate; but, somehow, it does not make such a figure in poesy, as that other species of the passion,

"Where Love is liberty, and Nature law."

Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet; while the last has powers equal to all the intellectual modulations of the human soul. Still, I am a very poet in my enthusiasm of the passion. The welfare and happiness of the beloved object is the first and inviolate sentiment that pervades my soul; and whatever pleasure I might wish for, or whatever might be the raptures they would give me, yet, if they interfere with that first principle, it is having these pleasures at a dishonest price; and justice forbids, and generosity disdains the purchase!

Despairing of my own powers to give you variety enough in English songs, I have been turning over old collections, to pick out songs of which the measure is something similar to what I want; and, with a little alteration, so as to suit the rhythm of the air exactly, to give you them for your work.

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