No. XX. G. THOMSON TO BURNS. Edinburgh, April, 1793. I REJOICE to find, my dear Sir, that balladmaking continues to be your hobby-horse.-Great pity 'twould be were it otherwise. I hope you will amble it away for many a year, and "witch the world with your horsemanship." 66 I know there are a good many lively songs of merit that I have not put down in the list sent you; but I have them all in my eye. My Patie is a lover gay," though a little unequal, is a natural and very pleasing song, and I humbly think we ought not to displace or alter it, except the last stanza. [Currie tells, that in the original letter Thomson hazarded many observations on Scottish songs, and on the manner of adapting the words to the music, which, at his desire, were suppressed. To these observations Burns alludes in his answer, and intimates that he thinks his friend is a little too ready to sacrifice simplicity for the sake of something striking. No one can hope to compose a song to a tune unless he can either hum it, or whistle it, or sing it the music commands the proper words, and a true poet will obey it, as Burns always did, save in one or two instances, where he evidently had not mastered the air. He tells us, that he was in the habit of crooning the tune while in the act of composing it: nor will a song that echoes the music be obtained on easier terms.-ED.] No. XXI. BURNS TO G. THOMSON. April, 1793. I HAVE yours, my dear Sir, this moment. shall answer it and your former letter, in my desultory way of saying whatever comes uppermost. The business of many of our tunes, wanting at the beginning what fiddlers call a starting-note, is often a rub to us poor rhymers. "There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes, you may alter to "Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes, Ye wander," &c. My song, "Here awa, there awa," as amended by Mr. Erskine, I entirely approve of, and return you. Give me leave to criticise your taste in the only thing in which it is, in my opinion, reprehensible. You know I ought to know something of my own trade. Of pathos, sentiment, and point you are a complete judge; but there is a quality more necessary than either in a song, and which is the very essence of a ballad; I mean simplicity: now, if I mistake not, this last feature you are a little apt to sacrifice to the foregoing. Ramsay, as every other poet, has not been always equally happy in his pieces: still I cannot approve of taking such liberties with an author as Mr. W. proposes doing with "The last time I came o'er the moor." Let a poet, if he chooses, take up the idea of another, and work it into a piece of his own; but to mangle the works of the poor bard whose tuneful tongue is now mute for ever, in the dark and narrow house-by Heaven, 'twould be sacrilege! I grant that Mr. W.'s version is an improvement; but, I know Mr. W. well, and esteem him much; let him mend the song as the Highlander mended his gun he gave it a new stock, a new lock, and a new barrel. I do not, by this, object to leaving out improper stanzas, where that can be done without spoiling the whole. One stanza in "The Lass o' Patie's Mill" must be left out: the song will be nothing worse for it. I am not sure if we can take the same liberty with "Corn Rigs are bonnie." Perhaps it might want the last stanza, and be the better for it. “Cauld Kail in Aberdeen," you must leave with me yet a while. I have vowed to have a song to that air, on the lady whom I attempted to celebrate in the verses, "Poortith cauld and restless love." At any rate, my other song, "Green grow the Rashes," will never suit. That song is current in Scotland under the old title, and to the merry old tune of that name; which, of course, would mar the progress of your song to celebrity. Your book will be the standard of Scots songs for the future : let this idea ever keep your judgment on the alarm. I send a song, on a celebrated toast in this country, to suit "Bonnie Dundee." I send you also a ballad to the "Mill, Mill, O." "The last time I came o'er the moor," I would fain attempt to make a Scots song for, and let Ramsay's be the English set. You shall hear from me soon. When you go to London on this business, can you come by Dumfries? I have still several MS. Scots airs by me which I have picked up, mostly from the singing of country lasses. They please me vastly; but your learned lugs would perhaps be displeased with the very feature for which I like them. I call them simple; you would pronounce them silly. Do you know a fine air, called "Jackie Hume's Lament?" I have a song of considerable merit to that air. I'll enclose you both the song and tune, as I had them ready to send to Johnson's Museum. I send you likewise, to me, a beautiful little air, which I had taken down from viva voce.-Adieu! No. XXII. BURNS TO G. THOMSON. April, 1793. MY DEAR SIR: I HAD Scarcely put my last letter into the post office, when I took up the subject of "The last time I came o'er the moor," and ere I slept drew the outlines of the foregoing. How far I have succeeded, I leave on this, as on every other occasion, to you to decide. I own my vanity is flattered, when you give my songs a place in your elegant and superb work; but to be of service to the work is my first wish. As I have often told you, I do not in a single instance wish you, out of compliment to me, to insert anything of mine. One hint let me give you— whatever Mr. Pleyel does, let him not alter one iota of the original Scottish airs; I mean in the song department; but let our national music preserve its native features. They are, I own, frequently wild and irreducible to the more modern rules; but on that very eccentricity, perhaps, depends a great part of their effect. |