The song to the air Rory Dall's Port is the remarkable expression of passion above alluded to. The fourth stanza Byron put at the head of his poem, The Bride of Abydos. Scott has remarked that that verse is worth a thousand romances; and Mrs Jameson has elegantly said, that not only are these lines what Scott says, 'but in themselves a complete romance. They are,' she adds, 'the alpha and omega of feeling, and contain the essence of an existence of pain and pleasure distilled into one burning drop.' On the 25th of January 1792, Mrs M'Lehose wrote a friendly letter to Burns, bidding him farewell in anticipation of her immediate departure for Jamaica. She says: 'Seek God's favour, keep his commandments, be solicitous to prepare for a happy eternity. There, I trust, we will meet in never-ending bliss!" She sailed in February in that vessel, the Roselle, in which Burns intended to have left his country a few years before. One of the final meetings of Burns and Clarinda is believed to be the subject-matter of the following song, which, however, must be regarded as a poetical rather than historical recital: O MAY, THY MOR N. O May, thy morn was ne'er so sweet And here's to them that like oursel' And here's to them that wish us weel, May a' that's gude watch o'er them! And here's to them we darena tell, These lyrics could not have been written without an carnest, however temporary and transient, feeling on the part of the author; yet we conceive it would be a great mistake to accept them as a literal expression of the particular passion in which they originated, or a description of incidents to which that passion gave rise. We ought to make a considerable allowance for the extent to which the poet's mind is actuated by mere considerations of art and the desire of effect. In one there is a levity, and in others a tincture of métier, which are alike incompatible with our notions of this sentimental attachment. The Ae Fond Kiss appears in a different light. The tragic tale seems there concentrated in a wild gush of eloquence direct from the poet's heart. In the course of the ensuing summer, while Mrs M'Lehose was absent in the West Indies, the poet's feelings subsided into a comparative calm, and he then composed the following beautiful pastoral: MY NANNIE'S A WA'. Now in her green mantle blithe Nature arrays, The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn, Thou laverock that springs frae the dews of the lawn, Come autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and gray, Throwing himself sympathetically into the circumstances of the unhappy lady, he at the same time gave expression to her supposed feelings in seeking a reunion with her aberrant husband: WANDERING WILLIE. Here awa', there awa', wandering Willie, Now tired with wandering, haud awa' hame; Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie, And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting; Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers! And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. O still flow between us, thou wide-roaring main; But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!1 It will be found that Burns afterwards made some alterations on the above song. In a letter to Mr Cunningham, dated June 11, 1791, we have seen Burns expressing himself warmly in behalf of his friend Mr Clarke, the teacher at Moffat, whom he regarded as suffering an unworthy persecution. He appears in the interval to have been continuing to exert himself in behalf of Mr Clarke. TO MR JAMES CLARKE], MOFFAT. DUMFRIES, 10th January 1792. I received yours this moment, my dear sir. I sup with Captain Riddel in town to-night, else I had gone to Carse directly." Courage, mon ami! The day may, after all, be yours; but at anyrate, there is other air to breathe than that of Moffat, pestiferously tainted as it is with the breath of that arch-scoundrel, J——. There are two quotations from two poets which, in situations such as yours, were congenial to my soul. Thomson says: And Dr Young: 'What proves the hero truly great, Is never, never to despair.' On Reason build Resolve, To-morrow, you shall know the result of my consultation with Captain Riddel. Yours, R. B. 1 This song appears to have had a prototype in an old one, of which two stanzas have been preserved: Here awa', there awa', here awa', Willie, Here awa', there awa', here awa' hame; Lang have I sought thee, dear have I bought thee, Now I hae gotten my Willie again. Through the lang muir I have followed my Willie, * Doubtless to make interest for his friend on some point brought under his notice. In the more elevated society of Dumfries, into which Burns had, as usual, been invited, he found a young married lady of no common character. Maria Woodley was the daughter of a governor of Berbice, and had been married at a very early age to Mr Walter Riddel, a younger brother of Glenriddel, possessed of an estate in Antigua, but who had lately returned to his native country to enjoy the fruits of fortune. About four miles to the south of Dumfries, stands a handsome mansion surrounded with a small estate; originally, under the name of the Holm, the rural retreat of the eminent advocate Andrew Crosbie, who has been generally reputed as the prototype of Counsellor Pleydell in Guy Mannering. Afterwards it was bought by a gentleman named Goldie, who called it Goldielea, after his own name and that of his wife-Leigh-a descendant of the elder branch of that distinguished English family. Mr Riddel, purchasing the place from Mr Goldie, named it Woodley Park, after the name of his wife; and so it continued to be called, till, by the non-payment of the purchasemoney, it reverted to Mr Goldie, and regained its former appellation of Goldielea, by which it is now recognised. The lady, who was as yet under twenty, though already a mother, possessed beauty, abilities, and accomplishments; was a little of an esprit fort; had a taste for literature and natural history; and delighted in the society of men of talent. The vivid genius of Burns instantly attracted her, and he became a frequent visitor at Woodley Park. There he found a fine library, comprising not only English literature, but choice examples of that of France and Italy, with which the fair proprietress was willing to make him acquainted. She was a writer of verses herself-at first sight an alarming fact for a literary visitor; but it happened that Mrs Riddel's poetry was far above mediocrity, and that she had too much good sense to allow it to become an annoyance to her friends. On the whole, then, Woodley Park was a most fascinating retreat for our susceptible bard. Nor does it appear that he was treated by either the lady or her husband in a patronising way, but, on the contrary, on a footing of equality, for the eldest son of the bard has a recollection of Mrs Riddel occasionally making friendly calls at his father's house in Dumfries. Mrs Riddel had already a little literary scheme of her own in view, and wished to consult competent persons on the subject. It was not, however, of a poetical nature, and therefore she does not seem to have explained it to Burns. As it embraced, in an account of a voyage to Madeira and the Leeward Isles, some sketches of natural history, she seems to have thought that Burns's friend, Smellie, would be a good adviser respecting her scheme. She asked the poet for an introduction. The idea seems to have been startling to the bard. To present a beautiful, young, accomplished woman of fashion to the hirsute, outspoken old naturalist, who called him Rabbie, and perhaps never made a bow in his life to man or woman-how was it to be accomplished! The way in which Burns, after all, performed the duty, is very amusing: TO MR WILLIAM SMELLIE, PRINTER. DUMFRIES, 22d January 1792. I sit down, my dear sir, to introduce a young lady to you, and a lady in the first ranks of fashion too. What a task! to you-who care no more for the herd of animals called young ladies, than you do for the herd of animals called young gentlemen. To you-who despise and detest the groupings and combinations of Fashion, as an idiot painter that seems industrious to place staring fools and unprincipled knaves in the foreground of his picture, while men of sense and honesty are too often thrown in the dimmest shades. Mrs Riddel, who will take this letter to town with her, and send it to you, is a character that, even in your own way, as a naturalist and a philosopher, would be an acquisition to your acquaintance. The lady, too, is a votary to the Muses; and as I think myself somewhat of a judge in my own trade, I assure you that her verses, always correct, and often elegant, are much beyond the common run of the lady-poetesses of the day. She is a great admirer of your book;1 and hearing me say that I was acquainted with you, she begged to be known to you, as she is just going to pay her first visit to our Caledonian capital. I told her that her best way was to desire her near relation, and your intimate friend, Craigdarroch, to have you at his house while she was there; and lest you might think of a lively West Indian girl of eighteen, as girls of eighteen too often deserve to be thought of, I should take care to remove that prejudice. To be impartial, however, in appreciating the lady's merits, she has one unlucky failing-a failing which you will easily discover, as she seems rather pleased with indulging in it-and a failing that you will easily pardon, as it is a sin which very much besets yourselfwhere she dislikes or despises, she is apt to make no more a secret of it than where she esteems and respects. I will not present you with the unmeaning compliments of the season, but I will send you my warmest wishes and most ardent prayers, that FORTUNE may never throw your SUBSISTENCE to the mercy of a KNAVE, or set your CHARACTER on the judgment of a FOOL; but that, upright and erect, you may walk to an honest 1 The Philosophy of Natural History. |