saw the light. About seven years
ago I was well acquainted with a worthy little fellow of a clergyman,
a Mr. Clunie, who sang it charmingly; and, at my request, Mr. Clarke
took it down from his singing. When I gave it to Johnson, I added some
stanzas to the song, and mended others, but still it will not do for
you. In a solitary stroll which I took to-day, I tried my hand on a
few pastoral lines, following up the idea of the chorus, which I would
preserve. Here it is, with all its crudities and imperfections on its
head.

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, &c.[259]

I shall give you my opinion of your other newly adopted songs my first
scribbling fit.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 259: Song CCXXV.]

* * * * *

CCCI.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[Dr. Maxwell, whose skill called forth the praises of the poet, had
the honour of being named by Burke in the House of Commons: he shared
in the French revolution, and narrowly escaped the guillotine, like
many other true friends of liberty.]

_Sept. 1794._

Do you know a blackguard Irish song called "Onagh's Waterfall?" The
air is charming, and I have often regretted the want of decent verses
to it. It is too much, at least for my humble rustic muse, to expect
that every effort of hers shall have merit; still I think that it is
better to have mediocre verses to a favourite air, than none at all.
On this principle I have all along proceeded in the Scots Musical
Museum; and as that publication is at its last volume, I intend the
following song, to the air above mentioned, for that work.

If it does not suit you as an editor, you may be pleased to have
verses to it that you can sing in the company of ladies.

Sae flaxen were her ringlets.[260]

Not to compare small things with great, my taste in music is like the
mighty Frederick of Prussia's taste in painting: we are told that he
frequently admired what the connoisseurs decried, and always without
any hypocrisy confessed his admiration. I am sensible that my taste in
music must be inelegant and vulgar, because people of undisputed and
cultivated taste can find no merit in my favourite tunes. Still,
because I am cheaply pleased, is that any reason why I should deny
myself that pleasure? Many of our strathspeys, ancient and modern,
give me most exquisite enjoyment, where you and other judges would
probably be showing disgust. For instance, I am just now making verses
for "Rothemurch