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Tell me how you like this. I differ from your idea of the expression of the tune. There is, to me, a great deal of tenderness in it. You cannot, in my opinion, dispense with a bass to your addenda airs. A lady of my acquaintance, a noted performer, plays and sings at the same time so charmingly, that I shall never bear to see any of her songs sent into the world, as naked as Mr. Whát-d'ye-call-um has done in his London collection. * . .' .i
These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command of the language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at Duncan Gray, to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid. For instance. !
Let not woman e'er complain,
Of inconstancy in love ;
* Mr. Ritson.
Look abroad through nature's range,
Man should then a monster prove?
Mark the winds, and mark the skies ;
Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow :
Round and round the seasons go :
Why then ask of silly man,
You can be no more you know.
Since the above, I have been out in the country taking a dinner with a friend, where I met with the lady whom I mentioned in the second page of this odds-and-ends of a letter. As usual, I got into song ; and returning home, I composed the following.
The Lover's morning salute to bis Mistress.
Sleep'st thou, or wak’st thou fairest creature;
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Waters wi' the tears o' joy :
And by the reeking floods ;
The lintwhite in his bower
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
The hartwining hounet pours.
* Variation. Now to the streaming fountain,
Or up the heathy mountain
In twining hazel bowers
Phæbus gilding the brow o' morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Such to me my lovely maid.
The murky shades o care
But when, in beauty's light,
Her beaming glories dart ;
If you honor my verses by setting the air to them, I will vamp up the old song and make it English enough to be understood.
* Variation. When frae my Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
But when she charms my sight,
Her beaming glories dart;
I inclose you a musical curiosity, an East Indian air, which you would swear was a Scottish one. I know the authenticity of it, as the gentleman who brought it over is a particular acquaintance of mine.. Do preserve me the copy I send you, as it is the only one I have. Clarke has set a bass to it, and I intend putting it into the musical Museum. Here follow the verses I intend for it.
THE AULD MAN.
But lately seen in gladsome green
The woods rejoic'd the day,
In double pride were gay : .
On winter blasts awa!
Again shall bring them a'.
But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
Shall melt the snaws of age;
Sinks in time's wintry rage.