The Complete Works of Robert Burns Part 219

CLVI.

TO MRS. DUNLOP

[Some lines which extend, but fail to finish the sketch contained in this letter, will be found elsewhere in this publication.]

_Ellisland, 4th April, 1789._

I no sooner hit on any poetic plan or fancy, but I wish to send it to you: and if knowing and reading these give half the pleasure to you, that communicating them to you gives to me, I am satisfied.

I have a poetic whim in my head, which I at present dedicate, or rather inscribe to the Right Hon. Charles James Fox; but how long that fancy may hold, I cannot say. A few of the first lines, I have just rough-sketched as follows:

SKETCH.

How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite; How virtue and vice blend their black and their white; How genius, the ill.u.s.trious father of fiction, Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction-- I sing: If these mortals, the critics, should bustle, I care not, not I, let the critics go whistle.

But now for a patron, whose name and whose glory, At once may ill.u.s.trate and honour my story.

Thou first of our orators, first of our wits; Yet whose parts and acquirements seem mere lucky hits; With knowledge so vast, and with judgment so strong, No man with the half of 'em e'er went far wrong; With pa.s.sion so potent, and fancies so bright, No man with the half of 'em ere went quite right; A sorry, poor misbegot son of the muses, For using thy name offers many excuses.

On the 20th current I hope to have the honour of a.s.suring you in person, how sincerely I am--

R. B.

CLVII.

TO MR. WILLIAM BURNS,

SADLER,

CARE OF MR. WRIGHT, CARRIER, LONGTOWN.

["Never to despair" was a favourite saying with Burns: and "firm resolve," he held, with Young, to be "the column of true majesty in man."]

_Isle, 15th April, 1789._

MY DEAR WILLIAM,

I am extremely sorry at the misfortune of your legs; I beg you will never let any worldly concern interfere with the more serious matter, the safety of your life and limbs. I have not time in these hurried days to write you anything other than a mere how d'ye letter. I will only repeat my favourite quotation:--

"What proves the hero truly great Is never, never to despair."

My house shall be your welcome home; and as I know your prudence (would to G.o.d you had _resolution_ equal to your _prudence_!) if anywhere at a distance from friends, you should need money, you know my direction by post.

The enclosed is from Gilbert, brought by your sister Nanny. It was unluckily forgot. Yours to Gilbert goes by post.--I heard from them yesterday, they are all well.

Adieu.

R. B.

CLVIII.

TO MRS. M'MURDO,

DRUMLANRIG.

[Of this accomplished lady, Mrs. M'Murdo, of Drumlanrig, and her daughters, something has been said in the notes on the songs: the poem alluded to was the song of "Bonnie Jean."]

_Ellisland, 2d May, 1789._

MADAM,

I have finished the piece which had the happy fortune to be honoured with your approbation; and never did little miss with more sparkling pleasure show her applauded sampler to partial mamma, than I now send my poem to you and Mr. M'Murdo if he is returned to Drumlanrig. You cannot easily imagine what thin-skinned animals--what sensitive plants poor poets are. How do we shrink into the embittered corner of self-abas.e.m.e.nt, when neglected or condemned by those to whom we look up! and how do we, in erect importance, add another cubit to our stature on being noticed and applauded by those whom we honour and respect! My late visit to Drumlanrig has, I can tell you, Madam, given me a balloon waft up Parna.s.sus, where on my fancied elevation I regard my poetic self with no small degree of complacency. Surely with all their sins, the rhyming tribe are not ungrateful creatures.--I recollect your goodness to your humble guest--I see Mr. M'Murdo adding to the politeness of the gentleman, the kindness of a friend, and my heart swells as it would burst, with warm emotions and ardent wishes!

It may be it is not grat.i.tude--it may be a mixed sensation. That strange, shifting, doubling animal man is so generally, at best, but a negative, often a worthless creature, that we cannot see real goodness and native worth without feeling the bosom glow with sympathetic approbation.

With every sentiment of grateful respect,

I have the honour to be,

Madam,

Your obliged and grateful humble servant,

R. B.

CLIX.