_Lawn-market, Edinburgh, 3d May, 1787._

REVEREND AND MUCH-RESPECTED SIR,

I leave Edinburgh to-morrow morning, but could not go without troubling you with half a line, sincerely to thank you for the kindness, patronage, and friendship you have shown me. I often felt the embarra.s.sment of my singular situation; drawn forth from the veriest shades of life to the glare of remark; and honoured by the notice of those ill.u.s.trious names of my country whose works, while they are applauded to the end of time, will ever instruct and mend the heart. However the meteor-like novelty of my appearance in the world might attract notice, and honour me with the acquaintance of the permanent lights of genius and literature, those who are truly benefactors of the immortal nature of man, I knew very well that my utmost merit was far unequal to the task of preserving that character when once the novelty was over; I have made up my mind that abuse, or almost even neglect, will not surprise me in my quarters.

I have sent you a proof impression of Beugo's work[171] for me, done on Indian paper, as a trifling but sincere testimony with what heart-warm grat.i.tude I am, &c.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 171: The portrait of the poet after Nasmyth.]

LVIII.

TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN.

[The poet addressed the following letter to the Earl of Glencairn, when he commenced his journey to the Border. It was first printed in the third edition of Lockhart's Life of Burns; an eloquent and manly work.]

MY LORD,

I go away to-morrow morning early, and allow me to vent the fulness of my heart, in thanking your lordship for all that patronage, that benevolence and that friendship with which you have honoured me. With brimful eyes, I pray that you may find in that great Being, whose image you so n.o.bly bear, that friend which I have found in you. My grat.i.tude is not selfish design--that I disdain--it is not dodging after the heels of greatness--that is an offering you disdain. It is a feeling of the same kind with my devotion.

R. B.

LIX.

TO MR. WILLIAM DUNBAR.

[William Dunbar, Colonel of the Crochallan Fencibles. The name has a martial sound, but the corps which he commanded was club of wits, whose courage was exercised on "paitricks, teals, moorpowts, and plovers."]

_Lawn-market, Monday morning._

DEAR SIR,

In justice to Spenser, I must acknowledge that there is scarcely a poet in the language could have been a more agreeable present to me; and in justice to you, allow me to say, Sir, that I have not met with a man in Edinburgh to whom I would so willingly have been indebted for the gift. The tattered rhymes I herewith present you, and the handsome volumes of Spenser for which I am so much indebted to your goodness, may perhaps be not in proportion to one another; but be that as it may, my gift, though far less valuable, is as sincere a mark of esteem as yours.

The time is approaching when I shall return to my shades; and I am afraid my numerous Edinburgh friendships are of so tender a construction, that they will not bear carriage with me. Yours is one of the few that I could wish of a more robust const.i.tution. It is indeed very probable that when I leave this city, we part never more to meet in this sublunary sphere; but I have a strong fancy that in some future eccentric planet, the comet of happier systems than any with which astronomy is yet acquainted, you and I, among the harum scarum sons of imagination and whim, with a hearty shake of a hand, a metaphor and a laugh, shall recognise old acquaintance:

"Where wit may sparkle all its rays, Uncurs'd with caution's fears; That pleasure, basking in the blaze, Rejoice for endless years."

I have the honour to be, with the warmest sincerity, dear Sir, &c.

R. B.

LX.

TO JAMES JOHNSON.

[James Johnson was an engraver in Edinburgh, and proprietor of the Musical Museum; a truly national work, for which Burns wrote or amended many songs.]

_Lawn-market, Friday noon, 3 May, 1787._

DEAR SIR,

I have sent you a song never before known, for your collection; the air by M'Gibbon, but I know not the author of the words, as I got it from Dr. Blacklock.

Farewell, my dear Sir! I wished to have seen you, but I have been dreadfully throng, as I march to-morrow. Had my acquaintance with you been a little older, I would have asked the favour of your correspondence, as I have met with few people whose company and conversation gives me so much pleasure, because I have met with few whose sentiments are so congenial to my own.

When Dunbar and you meet, tell him that I left Edinburgh with the idea of him hanging somewhere about my heart.

Keep the original of the song till we meet again, whenever that may be.

R. B.

LXI.

TO WILLIAM CREECH, ESQ.

EDINBURGH.

[This characteristic letter was written during the poet's border tour: he narrowly escaped a soaking with whiskey, as well as with water; for according to the Ettrick Shepherd, "a couple of Yarrow lads, lovers of poesy and punch, awaited his coming to Selkirk, but would not believe that the parson-looking, black-avised man, who rode up to the inn, more like a drouket craw than a poet, could be Burns, and so went disappointed away."]

_Selkirk, 13th May, 1787._