TO MR. THOMSON.
[The story of Mary Campbell"s love is related in the notes on the songs which the poet wrote in her honour. Thomson says, in his answer, "I have heard the sad story of your Mary; you always seem inspired when you write of her."]
_14th November, 1792._
MY DEAR SIR,
I agree with you that the song, "Katherine Ogie," is very poor stuff, and unworthy, altogether unworthy of so beautiful an air. I tried to mend it; but the awkward sound, Ogie, recurring so often in the rhyme, spoils every attempt at introducing sentiment into the piece. The foregoing song[205] pleases myself; I think it as in my happiest manner: you will see at first glance that it suits the air. The subject of the song is one of the most interesting pa.s.sages of my youthful days, and I own that I should be much flattered to see the verses set to an air which would ensure celebrity. Perhaps, after all, "tis the still glowing prejudice of my heart that throws a borrowed l.u.s.tre over the merits of the composition.
I have partly taken your idea of "Auld Rob Morris." I have adopted the two first verses, and am going on with the song on a new plan, which promises pretty well. I take up one or another, just as the bee of the moment buzzes in my bonnet-lug; and do you, _sans ceremonie_, make what use you choose of the productions.
Adieu, &c.
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 205:
Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o" Montgomery.
Song CLx.x.xII]
CCXL.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[The poet approved of several emendations proposed by Thomson, whose wish was to make the words flow more readily with the music: he refused, however, to adopt others, where he thought too much of the sense was sacrificed.]
_Dumfries, 1st December, 1792._
Your alterations of my "Nannie, O!" are perfectly right. So are those of "My wife"s a winsome wee thing." Your alteration of the second stanza is a positive improvement. Now, my dear Sir, with the freedom which characterizes our correspondence, I must not, cannot alter "Bonnie Lesley." You are right; the word "Alexander" makes the line a little uncouth, but I think the thought is pretty. Of Alexander, beyond all other heroes, it may be said, in the sublime language of Scripture, that "he went forth conquering and to conquer."
For nature made her what she is, And never made anither. (Such a person as she is.)
This is, in my opinion, more poetical than "Ne"er made sic anither."
However, it is immaterial: make it either way. "Caledonie," I agree with you, is not so good a word as could be wished, though it is sanctioned in three or four instances by Allan Ramsay; but I cannot help it. In short, that species of stanza is the most difficult that I have ever tried.
R. B.
CCXLI.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[Duncan Gray, which this letter contained, became a favourite as soon as it was published, and the same may be said of Auld Rob Morris.]
_4th December, 1792._
The foregoing ["Auld Rob Morris," and "Duncan Gray,"[206]] I submit, my dear Sir, to your better judgment. Acquit them or condemn them, as seemeth good in your sight. "Duncan Gray" is that kind of light-horse gallop of an air, which precludes sentiment. The ludicrous is its ruling feature.
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 206: Songs CLx.x.xIII. and CLx.x.xIV.]
CCXLII.
TO MRS. DUNLOP.
[Burns often discourses with Mrs. Dunlop on poetry and poets: the dramas of Thomson, to which he alludes, are stiff, cold compositions.]
_Dumfries, 6th December, 1792._
I shall be in Ayrshire, I think, next week; and, if at all possible, I shall certainly, my much-esteemed friend, have the pleasure of visiting at Dunlop-house.
Alas, Madam! how seldom do we meet in this world, that we have reason to congratulate ourselves on accessions of happiness! I have not pa.s.sed half the ordinary term of an old man"s life, and yet I scarcely look over the obituary of a newspaper, that I do not see some names that I have known, and which I, and other acquaintances, little thought to meet with there so soon. Every other instance of the mortality of our kind, makes us cast an anxious look into the dreadful abyss of uncertainty, and shudder with apprehension for our own fate.
But of how different an importance are the lives of different individuals? Nay, of what importance is one period of the same life, more than another? A few years ago, I could have laid down in the dust, "careless of the voice of the morning;" and now not a few, and these most helpless individuals, would, on losing me and my exertions, lose both their "staff and shield." By the way, these helpless ones have lately got an addition; Mrs. B---- having given me a fine girl since I wrote you. There is a charming pa.s.sage in Thomson"s "Edward and Eleonora:"
"The valiant _in himself_, what can he suffer?
Or what need he regard his _single_ woes?" &c.
As I am got in the way of quotations, I shall give you another from the same piece, peculiarly, alas! too peculiarly apposite, my dear Madam, to your present frame of mind:
"Who so unworthy but may proudly deck him With his fair-weather virtue, that exults Glad o"er the summer main! the tempest comes, The rough winds rage aloud; when from the helm, This virtue shrinks, and in a corner lies Lamenting--Heavens! if privileged from trial, How cheap a thing were virtue?"
I do not remember to have heard you mention Thomson"s dramas. I pick up favourite quotations, and store them in my mind as ready armour, offensive or defensive, amid the struggle of this turbulent existence.
Of these is one, a very favourite one, from his "Alfred:"
"Attach thee firmly to the virtuous deeds And offices of life; to life itself, With all its vain and transient joys, sit loose."