No. XV. MR BURNS to MR THOMSON. OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH! WITH ALTERATIONS. OH! open the door, some pity to shew, the door to me, Oh!* Oh! open Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, False friends, false love, farewell! for mair She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide; She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh! My true love she cried, and sank down by his side. Never to rise again, Oh !— I do not know whether this song be really mended. *This second line was originally, If love it may na be! Oh! E No XVI. MR BURNS to MR THOMSON. JESSIE. Tune" BONNIE DUNDEL." TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow, O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning, No. XVII. MR THOMSON to MR BURNS. Edinburgh, 2d April, 1793. I WILL not recognize the title you give yourself, "the prince of indolent correspondents;" but if the adjective were taken away, I think the title would then fit you exactly. It gives me pleasure to find you can furnish anecdotes with respect to most of the songs: these will be a literary curiosity. I now send you my list of the songs, which I believe will be found nearly complete. I have put down the first lines of all the English songs which I propose giving in addition to the Scotch verses. If any others occur to you, better adapted to the character of the airs, pray mention them, when you fayour me with your strictures upon every thing else relating to the work. Pleyel has lately sent me a number of the songs, with his symphonies and accompaniments added to them. I wish you were here, that I might serve up some of them to you with your own verses, by way of desert after dinner. There is so much delightful fancy in the symphonies, and such a delicate simplicity in the accompaniments.-they are indeed beyond all praise. I am very much pleased with the several last productions of your muse: your Lord Gregory, in my estimation, is more interesting than Peter's, beautiful as his is! Your Here awa Willie must undergo some alterations to suit the air. Mr Erskine and I have been conning it over; he will suggest what is necessary to make them a fit match.* * WANDERING WILLIE, As altered by Mr Erskine and Mr Thomson. Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers, Blow soft ye breezes! roll gently ye billows! And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms! But, oh! if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, While, dying, I think that my Willie's my ain! Our poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows: Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Lar um i me sound ar mie ne duod That any en was sveling * aiter i wice, quoci i sweet is. That's dearest wy bson. Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, That gallant badge, the dear cockade, She gaz'd-she redden'd like a roseSyne pale like ony lily, She sank within my arms, and cried, Art thou my ain dear Willie? By Him who made yon sun and sky-By whom true love's regarded, I am the man ; and thus may still True lovers be rewarded ! The wars are o'er and I'm come hame, And find thee still true-hearted! |