Turn away thine eyes of love, What is life, when wanting love? Your objection to the English song I proposed for John Anderson my jo, is certainly just. The following is by an old acquaintance of mine, and I think has merit. The song was never in print, which I think is so much in your favour. The more original good poetry your collection contains, it cer tainly has so much the more merit. SONG. BY GAVIN TURNBULL. O, CONDESCEND, dear charming maid, While here, all melancholy, I heard of love, and with disdain, But how my state is alter'd! O, yield, illustrious beauty, yield, Let generous pity warm thee, The following address of Turnbull's to the Nightingale, will suit as an English song to the air, There was a lass and she was fair. By the by, Turnbull has a great many songs in MS. which I can command, if you like his manner. Possibly, as he is an old friend of mine, I may be prejudiced in his favour, but I like some of his pieces very much. No. LV. MR THOMSON to MR BURNS MY DEAR SIR, Edinburgh, 16th September, 1794. You have anticipated my opinion of On the seas and far away; I do not think it one of your very happy productions, though it certainly contains stanzas that are worthy of all acceptation. The second is the least to my liking, particularly, "Bullets, spare my only joy!" Confound the bullets! It might, perhaps, be objected to the third verse, "At the starless midnight hour," that it has too much grandeur of imagery, and that greater simplicity of thought would have better suited the character of a sailor's sweetheart. The tune, it must be remembered, is of the brisk, cheerful kind. Upon the whole, therefore, in my humble opinion, the song would be better adapted to the tune, if it consisted only of the first and last verses, with the chorusses. No. LVI. MR BURNS to MR THOMSON. September, 1794. I SHALL withdraw my, On the seas and far away, altogether it is unequal, and unworthy the work. Making a poem is like begetting a son: you cannot : know whether you have a wise man or a fool, until you produce him to the world to try him. For that reason I send you the offspring of my brain, abortions and all; and, as such, pray look over them, and forgive them, and burn* them. I am flattered at your adopting Ca' the yowes to the knowes, as it was owing to me that ever it saw the light. About seven years ago I was well acquainted with a worthy little fellow of a clergyman, a Mr Clunie, who sung it charmingly; and, at my request, Mr Clarke took it down from his singing. When I gave it to Johnson, I added some stanzas to the song and mended others, but still it will not do for you. In a solitary stroll which I took to-day, I tried my hand on a few pastoral lines, following up the idea of the chorus, which I would preserve. Here it is, with all its crudities and imperfections on its head: CHORUS. Ca' the yowes to the knowes, * This Virgilian order of the poet should, I think, be disobeyed with respect to the song in question, the second stanza excepted. Note by Mr Thomson. Doctors differ. The objection to the second stanza does not Strike the Editor. VOL. IV. E. Hark, the mavis' evening sang Ca' the, &c. "We'll gae down by Clouden side, Yonder Clouden's silent towers, Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear; Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear, Nocht of ill may come thee near, My bonnie dearie. Ca' the, &c. Fair and lovely as thou art, I can die-but canna part, My bonnie dearie. Ca' the, &c. *The river Clouden, or Cluden, a tributary stream to the Nitla. E. |