e's rant," an air which puts me in raptures; and, in
fact, unless I be pleased with the tune, I never can make verses to
it. Here I have Clarke on my side, who is a judge that I will pit
against any of you. "Rothemurche," he says, "is an air both original
and beautiful;" and, on his recommendation, I have taken the first
part of the tune for a chorus, and the fourth or last part for the
song. I am but two stanzas deep in the work, and possibly you may
think, and justly, that the poetry is as little worth your attention
as the music.

[Here follow two stanzas of the song, beginning "Lassie wi' the
lint-white locks." Song CCXXXIII.]

I have begun anew, "Let me in this ae night." Do you think that we
ought to retain the old chorus? I think we must retain both the old
chorus and the first stanza of the old song. I do not altogether like
the third line of the first stanza, but cannot alter it to please
myself. I am just three stanzas deep in it. Would you have the
_denouement_ to be successful or otherwise?--should she "let him in"
or not?

Did you not once propose "The sow's tail to Geordie" as an air for
your work? I am quite delighted with it; but I acknowledge that is no
mark of its real excellence. I once set about verses for it, which I
meant to be in the alternate way of a lover and his mistress chanting
together. I have not the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Thomson's Christian
name, and yours, I am afraid, is rather burlesque for sentiment, else
I had meant to have made you the hero and heroine of the little piece.

How do you like the following epigram which I wrote the other day on a
lovely young girl's recovery from a fever? Doctor Maxwell was the
physician who seemingly saved her from the grave; and to him I address
the following:

TO DR. MAXWELL,

ON MISS JESSIE STAIG'S RECOVERY.

Maxwell, if merit here you crave,
That merit I deny:
You save fair Jessy from the grave?--
An angel could not die!

God grant you patience with this stupid epistle!

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 260: Song CCXXVI.]

* * * * *

CCCII.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[The poet relates the history of several of his best songs in this
letter: the true old strain of "Andro and his cutty gun" is the first
of its kind.]

_19th October, 1794._

MY DEAR FRIEND,

By this morning's post I have your list, and, in general, I highly
approve of it. I shall, at more leisure, give you