as set a bass to it, and I intend putting it into the Musical Museum.
Here follow the verses I intend for it.

But lately seen in gladsome green, &c.[266]

I would be obliged to you if you would procure me a sight of Ritson's
collection of English songs, which you mention in your letter. I will
thank you for another information, and that as speedily as you please:
whether this miserable drawling hotch-potch epistle has not completely
tired you of my correspondence?

VARIATION.

Now to the streaming fountain,
Or up the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray;
In twining hazel bowers,
His lay the linnet pours;
The lav'rock to the sky
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.

When frae my Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
The night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky.
But when she charms my sight,
In pride of beauty's light;
When through my very heart
Her beaming glories dart;
'Tis then, 'tis then I wake to life and joy!

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 261: Song CCXXVII.]

[Footnote 262: Song CCXXVIII.]

[Footnote 263: Mr. Ritson, whose collection of Scottish songs was
published this year.]

[Footnote 264: Song CCXXIX.]

[Footnote 265: Song CCXXX.]

[Footnote 266: Song CCXVI.]

* * * * *

CCCIII.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[The presents made to the poet were far from numerous: the book for
which he expresses his thanks, was the work of the waspish Ritson.]

_November, 1794._

Many thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your present; it is a book of the
utmost importance to me. I have yesterday begun my anecdotes, &c., for
your work. I intend drawing them up in the form of a letter to you,
which will save me from the tedious dull business of systematic
arrangement. Indeed, as all I have to say consists of unconnected
remarks, anecdotes, scraps of old songs, &c., it would be impossible
to give the work a beginning, a middle, and an end, which the critics
insist to be absolutely necessary in a work. In my last, I told you my
objections to the song you had selected for "My lodging is on the cold
ground." On my visit the other day to my friend Chloris (that is the
poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration), she suggested an
idea, which I, on my return from the visit