The Complete Works of Robert Burns Part 267

Let me hear from you.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 277: Song CCXLIX.]

[Footnote 278: Song CCL.]

[Footnote 279: Song CCLI.]

CCCXIII.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[The poet calls for praise in this letter, a species of coin which is always ready.]

How cruel are the parents.[280]

Mark yonder pomp of costly fas.h.i.+on.[281]

Well, this is not amiss. You see how I answer your orders--your tailor could not be more punctual. I am just now in a high fit for poetizing, provided that the strait-jacket of criticism don't cure me. If you can, in a post or two, administer a little of the intoxicating potion of your applause, it will raise your humble servant's phrensy to any height you want. I am at this moment "holding high converse" with the muses, and have not a word to throw away on such a prosaic dog as you are.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 280: Song CCLIII.]

[Footnote 281: Song CCLIV.]

CCCXIV.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[Thomson at this time sent the drawing to Burns in which David Allan sought to embody the "Cotter's Sat.u.r.day Night:" it displays at once the talent and want of taste of the ingenious artist.]

_May, 1795._

Ten thousand thanks for your elegant present--though I am ashamed of the value of it, being bestowed on a man who has not, by any means, merited such an instance of kindness. I have shown it to two or three judges of the first abilities here, and they all agree with me in cla.s.sing it as a first-rate production. My phiz is sae kenspeckle, that the very joiner's apprentice, whom Mrs. Burns employed to break up the parcel (I was out of town that day) knew it at once. My most grateful compliments to Allan, who has honoured my rustic music so much with his masterly pencil. One strange coincidence is, that the little one who is making the felonious attempt on the cat's tail, is the most striking likeness of an ill-deedie, d--n'd, wee, rumblegairie urchin of mine, whom from that propensity to witty wickedness, and man-fu' mischief, which, even at twa days auld, I foresaw would form the striking features of his disposition, I named Willie Nicol, after a certain friend of mine, who is one of the masters of a grammar-school in a city which shall be nameless.

Give the enclosed epigram to my much-valued friend Cunningham, and tell him, that on Wednesday I go to visit a friend of his, to whom his friendly partiality in speaking of me in a manner introduced me--I mean a well-known military and literary character, Colonel Dirom.

You do not tell me how you liked my two last songs. Are they condemned?

R. B.

CCCXV.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[In allusion to the preceding letter, Thomson says to Burns, "You really make me blush when you tell me you have not merited the drawing from me." The "For a' that and a' that," which went with this letter, was, it is believed, the composition of Mrs. Riddel.]

In "Whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad," the iteration of that line is tiresome to my ear. Here goes what I think is an improvement:--

Oh whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad; Oh whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad; Tho' father and mother and a' should gae mad, Thy Jeanie will venture wi' ye, my lad.

In fact, a fair dame, at whose shrine I, the priest of the Nine, offer up the incense of Parna.s.sus--a dame whom the Graces have attired in witchcraft, and whom the Loves have armed with lightning--a fair one, herself the heroine of the song, insists on the amendment, and dispute her commands if you dare?

This is no my ain la.s.sie,[282] &c.

Do you know that you have roused the torpidity of Clarke at last? He has requested me to write three or four songs for him, which he is to set to music himself. The enclosed sheet contains two songs for him, which please to present to my valued friend Cunningham.

I enclose the sheet open, both for your inspection, and that you may copy the song "Oh bonnie was yon rosy brier." I do not know whether I am right, but that song pleases me; and as it is extremely probable that Clarke's newly-roused celestial spark will be soon smothered in the fogs of indolence, if you like the song, it may go as Scottish verses to the air of "I wish my love was in a mire;" and poor Erskine's English lines may follow.

I enclose you a "For a' that and a' that," which was never in print: it is a much superior song to mine. I have been told that it was composed by a lady, and some lines written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the lady whom, in so many fict.i.tious reveries of pa.s.sion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friends.h.i.+p, I have so often sung under the name of Chloris:--

To Chloris.[283]

_Une bagatelle de l'amitie._

COILA.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 282: Song CCLV.]

[Footnote 283: Poems, No. CXLVI.]