N. B. I have borrowed the last stanza from the common stall edition of Wallace. "A false usurper sinks in And liberty returns with A couplet worthy of Homer. every foe, Yesterday you had enough of my correspondence. my head aches miserably. One comfort !—I suffer so much, just now, in this world, for last night's joviality, that I shall escape scot-free for it in the world to come. Amen. No. XLIV. MR THOMSON to MR BURNS. 12th September, 1793. A THOUSAND thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your observations on the list of my songs. I am happy to find your ideas so much in unison with my own, respecting the generality of the airs, as well as About some of them we differ, but there disputing about hobby-horses. I shall not fail to profit by the remarks you make; and to re-consider the whole with attention. the verses. Dainty Davie must be sung, two stanzas together, and then the chorus: 'tis the proper way. I agree with you, that there may be something of pathos, or tenderness at least, in the air of Fee him Father, when performed with feeling: but a tender `cast may be VOL. IV. given almost to any lively air, if you sing it very slowly, expressively, and with serious words. I am, however, clearly and invariably for retaining the cheerful tunes joined to their own humorous verses, wherever the verses are passable. But the sweet song for Fee him Father, which you began about the back of midnight, I will publish as an additional one. Mr James Balfour, the king of good fellows, and the best singer of the lively Scottish ballads that ever existed, has charmed thousands of companies with Fee him Father, and with Todlin hame also, to the old words, which never should be disunited from either of these airs-Some Bacchanals I would wish to discard. Fy, let's a' to the Bridal, for instance, is so coarse and vulgar, that I think it fit only to be sung in a company of drunken colliers; and Saw ye my Father? appears to me both indelicate and silly. One word more with regard to your heroic ode. I think, with great deference to the poet, that a prudent general would avoid saying any thing to his soldiers which might tend to make death more frightful than it is. Gory presents a disagreeable image to the mind, and to tell them "Welcome to "your gory bed," seems rather a discouraging address, notwithstanding the alternative which foliows. I have shewn the song to three friends of excellent taste, and each of them objected to this line, which emboldens me to use the freedom of bringing it again under your notice. I would suggest. "Now prepare for honour's bed, No. XLV. MR BURNS to MR THOMSON. September, 1793. "WHO shall decide when doctors disagree?" My ode pleases me so much that I cannot alter it. Your proposed alterations would, in my opinion, make it tame. I am exceedingly obliged to you for putting me on reconsidering it; as I think I have much improved it. Instead of "soger! hero!" I will have it Caledonian! on wi' me!' I have scrutinized it over and over; and to the world some way or other it shall go as it is. At the same time it will not in the least hurt me, should you leave it out altogether, and adhere to your first intention of adopting Logan's verses.* The ⚫ Mr Thomson has very properly adopted this song (if it may be so called) as the bard presented it to him. He has attached it to the air of Lewie Gordon, and perhaps among the existing airs he could not find a better; but the poetry is suited to a much higher strain of music, and may employ the genius of some Scottish Handel, if any such should in future arise. reader will have observed, that Burns adopted the alterations proposed by his friend and correspondent in former instances, with great readiness; perhaps, indeed, on all indifferent occasions. In the present instance, however, he rejected them, though repeatedly urged, with determined resolution. With every respect for the judgment of Mr Thomson and his friends, we may be satisfied that he did so. He, who in preparing for an engagement, attempts to withdraw his imagination from images of death, will probably have but imperfect success, and is not fitted to stand in the ranks of battle, where the liberties of a kingdom are at issue. Of such men the conquerors of Ban a-sprinkling of our native tongue. English verses, particularly the works of Scotsmen, that have merit, are certainly very eligible. Tweedside! Ah! the poor shepherd's mournful fate! Ah! Chloris, could I now but sit, &c. you cannot mend; but such insipid stuff as, To Fanny fair could I impart, &c., usually set to The Mill Mill O, is a disgrace to the collections in which it has already appeared, and would doubly disgrace a collection that will have the very superior merit of yours. But more of this in the farther prosecution of the business, if I am called on for my strictures and amendments—I say, amendments; for I will not alter except where I myself at least think that I amend. As to any remuneration, you may think my songs either above or below price; for they shall absolutely be the one or the other. In the honest enthusiasm with which I embark in your undertaking, to talk of money, wages, fee, hire, &c. would be downright prostitution of soul! A proof of each of the songs that I compose or amend, I shall receive as a favour. In the rustic phrase of the season, " Gude speed the wark!" I am, Sir, your very humble servant, R. BURNS. P. S. I have some particular reasons for wishing my interference to be known as little as possible. No. III. MR THOMSON to MR BURNS. DEAR SIR, Edinburgh, 13th October, 1792. I RECEIVED, with much satisfaction, your pleasant and obliging letter, and I return my warmest acknowledgments for the enthusiasm with which you have entered into our undertaking. We have now no doubt of being able to produce a collection highly deserving of public attention in all respects. I agree with you in thinking English verses that have merit, very eligible, wherever new verses are necessary; because the English becomes every year more and more the language of Scotland; but if you mean that no English verses, except those by Scottish authors, ought to be admitted, I am half inclined to differ from you. I should consider it unpardonable to sacrifice one good song in the Scottish dialect, to make room for English verses; but if we can select a few excellent ones suited to the unpro vided or ill-provided airs, would it not be the very bigotry of literary patriotism to reject such, merely because the authors were born south of the Tweed? Our sweet air, My Nanie 0, which in the collections is joined to the poorest stuff that Allan Ramsay ever wrote, beginning, While some for pleasure pawn their health, answers so finely to Dr Percy's beautiful song, 0, Nancy wilt thou go with me, that one would think he wrote it on purpose for the air. However, it is not at all our wish to confine you to English verses; you shall freely be allowed a sprink |