No. XVI.

BURNS TO G. THOMSON.

JESSIE.

Tune-" Bonnie Dundee."

I.

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 o' 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.

II.

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 ensnaring;
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'!

[Jessie Staig, the heroine of this song, married Major Miller, the second son of the Laird of Dalswinton. She died in early life, and is still affectionately remembered in her native valley ;-the memory of beauty and gentleness is long passing away.-ED.]

No. XVII.

G. THOMSON TO BURNS.

Edinburgh, 2nd April, 1793.

I WILL not recognize 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 exactly. 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.

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.

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[Thomson and Erskine, it seems, sat in judgment upon Wandering Willie," and, in harmonizing it to the air, squeezed much of the poetic spirit out:-they re-produced it in these words:

"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,
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!

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."

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

it

"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 aud 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," says Currie, “

seem to

be of little importance in themselves, and were adopted, 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 wideroaring, 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 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."-ED.]

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.

II.

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.

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