leave to lay it at your ladyship's feet. As all the world knows my
obligations to the late Earl of Glencairn, I would wish to show as
openly that my heart glows, and will ever glow, with the most grateful
sense and remembrance of his lordship's goodness. The sables I did
myself the honour to wear to his lordship's memory, were not the
"mockery of woe." Nor shall my gratitude perish with me!--if among my
children I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to
his child as a family honour, and a family debt, that my dearest
existence I owe to the noble house of Glencairn!

I was about to say, my lady, that if you think the poem may venture to
see the light, I would, in some way or other, give it to the world.

R. B.

* * * * *

CCXXII.

TO MR. AINSLIE.

[It has been said that the poet loved to aggravate his follies to his
friends: but that this tone of aggravation was often ironical, this
letter, as well as others, might be cited.]

_Ellisland, 1791._

MY DEAR AINSLIE,

Can you minister to a mind diseased? can you, amid the horrors of
penitence, remorse, head-ache, nausea, and all the rest of the d----d
hounds of hell, that beset a poor wretch, who has been guilty of the
sin of drunkenness--can you speak peace to a troubled soul?

_Miserable perdu_ that I am, I have tried everything that used to
amuse me, but in vain: here must I sit, a monument of the vengeance
laid up in store for the wicked, slowly counting every chick of the
clock as it slowly, slowly, numbers over these lazy scoundrels of
hours, who, d----n them, are ranked up before me, every one at his
neighbour's backside, and every one with a burthen of anguish on his
back, to pour on my devoted head--and there is none to pity me. My
wife scolds me! my business torments me, and my sins come staring me
in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his
fellow.--When I tell you even * * * has lost its power to please, you
will guess something of my hell within, and all around me--I begun
_Elibanks and Elibraes_, but the stanzas fell unenjoyed, and
unfinished from my listless tongue: at last I luckily thought of
reading over an old letter of yours, that lay by me in my book-case,
and I felt something for the first time since I opened my eyes, of
pleasurable existence. ---- Well--I begin to breathe a little, since I
began to write to you. How are you, and what are you doing? How goes
Law? Ap