en, in the latter part of next week, you shall be troubled with
a visit from,

My dear Sir,

Your most devoted,

R. B.

* * * * *

XXVII.

TO MRS. DUNLOP,

OF DUNLOP.

[Mrs. Dunlop was a poetess, and had the blood of the Wallaces in her
veins: though she disliked the irregularities of the poet, she scorned
to got into a fine moral passion about follies which could not be
helped, and continued her friendship to the last of his life.]

_Ayrshire_, 1786.

MADAM,

I am truly sorry I was not at home yesterday, when I was so much
honoured with your order for my copies, and incomparably more by the
handsome compliments you are pleased to pay my poetic abilities. I am
fully persuaded that there is not any class of mankind so feelingly
alive to the titillations of applause as the sons of Parnassus: nor is
it easy to conceive how the heart of the poor bard dances with
rapture, when those, whose character in life gives them a right to be
polite judges, honour him with their approbation. Had you been
thoroughly acquainted with me, Madam, you could not have touched my
darling heart-chord more sweetly than by noticing my attempts to
celebrate your illustrious ancestor, the Saviour of his Country.

"Great patriot hero! ill-requited chief!"[160]

The first book I met with in my early years, which I perused with
pleasure, was, "The Life Of Hannibal;" the next was, "The History of
Sir William Wallace:" for several of my earlier years I had few other
authors; and many a solitary hour have I stole out, after the
laborious vocations of the day, to shed a tear over their glorious,
but unfortunate stories. In those boyish days I remember, in
particular, being struck with that part of Wallace's story where these
lines occur--

"Syne to the Leglen wood, when it was late,
To make a silent and safe retreat."

I chose a fine summer Sunday, the only day my line of life allowed,
and walked half a dozen of miles to pay my respects to the Leglen
wood, with as much devout enthusiasm as ever pilgrim did to Loretto;
and, as I explored every den and dell where I could suppose my heroic
countryman to have lodged, I recollect (for even then I was a rhymer)
that my heart glowed with a wish to be able to make a song on him in
some measure equal to his merits.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 160: Thomson.]

* * * * *

XXVIII.

TO MR. JOHN KE