ly indebted,

And ever grateful humble servant,

R. B.

* * * * *

XLIX.

TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN.

[The Earl of Buchan, a man of talent, but more than tolerably vain,
advised Burns to visit the battle-fields and scenes celebrated in song
on the Scottish border, with the hope, perhaps, that he would drop a
few of his happy verses in Dryburgh Abbey, the residence of his
lordship.]

MY LORD,

The honour your lordship has done me, by your notice and advice in
yours of the 1st instant, I shall ever gratefully remember:--

"Praise from thy lips, 'tis mine with joy to boast,
They best can give it who deserve it most."[167]

Your lordship touches the darling chord of my heart when you advise me
to fire my muse at Scottish story and Scotch scenes. I wish for
nothing more than to make a leisurely pilgrimage through my native
country; to sit and muse on those once hard-contended fields, where
Caledonia, rejoicing, saw her bloody lion borne through broken ranks
to victory and fame; and, catching the inspiration, to pour the
deathless names in song. But, my lord, in the midst of these
enthusiastic reveries, a long-visaged, dry, moral-looking phantom
strides across my imagination, and pronounces these emphatic words:--

"I, Wisdom, dwell with Prudence. Friend, I do not come to open the
ill-closed wounds of your follies and misfortunes, merely to give you
pain: I wish through these wounds to imprint a lasting lesson on your
heart. I will not mention how many of my salutary advices you have
despised: I have given you line upon line and precept upon precept;
and while I was chalking out to you the straight way to wealth and
character, with audacious effrontery you have zigzagged across the
path, contemning me to my face: you know the consequences. It is not
yet three months since home was so hot for you that you were on the
wing for the western shore of the Atlantic, not to make a fortune, but
to hide your misfortune.

"Now that your dear-loved Scotia puts it in your power to return to
the situation of your forefathers, will you follow these will-o'-wisp
meteors of fancy and whim, till they bring you once more to the brink
of ruin? I grant that the utmost ground you can occupy is but half a
step from the veriest poverty; but still it is half a step from it. If
all that I can urge be ineffectual, let her who seldom calls to you in
vain, let the call of pride prevail with you.