little angel! whose epithalamium I have pledged myself to write. When I received your ladyship's letter, I was just in the act of transcribing for you some verses I have lately composed; and meant to have sent them my first leisure hour, and acquainted you with my late change of life. I mentioned to my lord, my fears concerning my farm. Those fears were indeed too true; it is a bargain would have ruined me but for the lucky circumstance of my having an excise commission. People may talk as they please, of the ignominy of the excise; fifty pounds a year will support my wife and children and keep me independent of the world; and I would much rather have it said that my profession borrowed credit from me than that I borrowed credit from my profession. Another advantage I have in this business, is the knowledge it gives me of the various shades of human character, consequently assisting me vastly in my poetic pursuits. I had the most ardent enthusiasm for the muses when nobody knew me, but myself, and that ardor is by no means cooled now that my lord Glencairn's goodness has introduced me to all the world. Not that I am in haste for the press. I have no idea of publishing, else I certainly had consulted my noble generous patron; but after acting the part of an honest man, and supporting my family, my whole wishes and views are directed to poetic pursuits. I am aware that though I were to give performances to the world superior to my former works, still if they were of the same kind with those, the comparative reception they would meet with would mortify me. I have turned my thoughts on the drama. I do not mean the stately buskin of the tragic muse. Does not your ladyship think that an Edinburgh theatre would be more amused with affectation, folly and whim of true Scottish growth, than manners which by K far the greatest part of the audience can only know at second hand? I have the honor to be Your ladyship's ever devoted And grateful humble servant. No. LVII. TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN, With a Copy of "Bruce's Address to his Troops at Bannockburn." Dumfries, 12th Jan. 1794. MY LORD, WILL your lordship allow me to present you with the inclosed little composition of mine, as a small tribute of gratitude for that acquaintance with which you have been pleased to honor me. Independent of my enthusiasm as a Scotsman, I have rarely met with any thing in history which interests my feelings as a man, equal with the story of Bannockburn. Ön the one hand, a cruel, but able usurper, leading on the finest army in Europe to extinguish the last spark of freedom among a greatly-daring, and greatly-injured people on the other hand, the desperate relics of a gallant nation, devoting themselves to rescue their bleeding country, or perish with her. Liberty! thou art a prize truly, and indeed invaluable for never canst thou be too dearly bought! I have the honor to be, &c. No. LVIII. TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN. MY LORD, WHEN you cast your eye on the name at the bottom of this letter, and on the title-page of the book I do myself the honor to send your lordship, a more pleasurable feeling than my vanity tells me, that it must be a name not entirely unknown to you. The generous patronage of your late illustrious brother found me in the lowest obscurity: he introduced my rustic muse to the partiality of my country; and to him I owe all. My sense of his goodness, and the anguish of my soul at losing my truly noble protector and friend, I have endeavored to express in a poem to his memory, which I have now published. This edition is just from the press; and in my gratitude to the dead, and my respect for the living (fame belies you my lord, if you possess not the same dignity of man, which was your noble brother's characteristic feature,) I had destined a copy for the Earl of Glencairn. I learnt just now that you are in town: allow me to present it you. I know, my lord, such is the vile, venal contagion which pervades the world of letters, that professions of respect from an author, particularly from a poct, to a lord, are more than suspicious. I claim my by-past conduct, and my feelings at this moment, as exceptions to the too just conclusion. Exalted as are the honors of your lordship's name, and unnoted as is the obscurity of mine; with the uprightness of an honest. man, I come before your lordship, with an offering, however humble, 'tis all I have to give, of my grateful respect; and to beg of you, my lord,-'tis all I have to ask of you, that you will do me the honor to accept of it. I have the honor to be, &c.* * The original letter is in the possession of the Honorable Mrs. Holland, of Poynings. From a memorandum on the back of the letter it appears to have been written in May, 1794, SIR, No. LIX. To Dr. ANDERSON. I AM much indebted to my worthy friend Dr. Blacklock for introducing me to a gentleman of Dr. Anderson's celebrity; but when you do me the honor to ask my assistance in your purposed publication, alas, Sir! you might as well think to cheapen a little honesty at the sign of an Advocate's wig, or humility under the Geneva band. I am a miserable hurried devil, worn to the marrow in the friction of holding the noses of the poor publicans to the grindstone of Excise; and like Milton's Satan, for private reasons, am forced "To do what yet tho' damn'd I would abhor ;"and except a couplet or two of honest execration No. LX. To Mrs. DUNLOP. Castle Douglas, 25th June, 1794. HERE in a solitarý inn, in a solitary village, am I set by myself, to amuse my brooding fancy as I may. Solitary confinement, you know, is Howard's favorite idea of reclaiming sinners; so let me consider by what fatality it happens that I have so long been exceeding sinful as to neglect the correspondence of the most valued friend I have on earth. To tell you that I have been in poor health, will not be excuse enough, though it is true. I am afraid I am about to suffer for the fol lies of my youth. My medical friends threaten me with a flying gout; but I trust they are mistaken. I am just going to trouble your critical patience with the first sketch of a stanza I have been framing as I paced along the road. The subject is LIBERTY: You know, my honored friend, how dear the theme is to me. I design it an irregular ode for General Washington's birth-day. After having mentioned the dege neracy of other kingdoms I come to Scotland thus: Thee, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among, Immingled with the mighty dead! Beneath that hallowed turf where WALLACE lies! Hear it not, WALLACE, in thy bed of death! Ye babbling winds, in silence weep; Disturb not ye the hero's sleep, One quenched in darkness like the sinking star, You will probably have another scrawl from me in a stage or two. |