shew him this letter. What, after all, was the obnoxious toast? May our success in the present war be equal to the justice of our cause."-A toast that the most outrageous frenzy of loyalty cannot object to. I request and beg that this morning you will wait on the parties present at the foolish dispute. I shall only add, that I am truly sorry that a man who stood so high in my estimation as Mr. should use me in the manner in which I conceive he has done. , R. B. [At this period of our poet's life, when political animosity was made the ground of private quarrel, the following foolish verses were sent as an attack on Burns and his friends for their political opinions. They were written by some member of a club styling themselves the Loyal Natives of Dumfries, or rather by the united genius of that club, which was more distinguished for drunken loyalty, than either for respectability or poetical talent. The verses were handed over the table to Burns at a convivial meeting, and he instantly indorsed the subjoined reply. THE LOYAL NATIVES' VERSES. "Ye sons of sedition, give ear to my song, Let Syme, BURNS, and Maxwell, pervade every throng, Send Willie the monger to hell with a smack." BURNS-Extempore. "Ye true 'Loyal Natives,' attend to my song, But where is your shield from the darts of contempt?" CROMEK.] No. CCXLIII. TO MRS. RIDDEL. Supposes himself to be writing from the Dead to the Living. MADAM, I DARE say that this is the first epistle you ever received from this nether world. I write you from the regions of Hell, amid the horrors of the damned. The time and manner of my leaving your earth I do not exactly know, as I took my departure in the heat of a fever of intoxication, contracted at your too hospitable mansion; but, on my arrival here, I was fairly tried, and sentenced to endure the purgatorial tortures of this infernal confine for the space of ninety-nine years, eleven months, and twentynine days, and all on account of the impropriety of my conduct yesternight under your roof. Here am I, laid on a bed of pitiless furze, with my aching head reclined on a pillow of ever-piercing thorn, while an infernal tormentor, wrinkled, and old, and cruel, his name I think is Recollection, with a whip of scorpions, forbids peace or rest to approach me, and keeps anguish eternally awake. Still, Madam, if I could in any measure be reinstated in the good opinion of the fair circle whom my conduct last night so much injured, I think it would be an alleviation to my torments. For this reason I To the men of the trouble you with this letter. company I will make no apology.-Your husband, who insisted on my drinking more than I chose, has no right to blame me; and the other gentlemen were partakers of my guilt. But to you, Madam, I have much to apologize. Your good opinion I valued as one of the greatest acquisitions I had made on earth, and I was truly a beast to forfeit it. There was a Miss I too, a woman of fine sense, gentle and unassuming manners-do make on my part, a miserable d-mned wretch's best apology to her. A Mrs. G, a charming woman, did me the honour to be prejudiced in my favour; this makes me hope that I have not outraged her beyond all forgiveness.-To all the other ladies please present my humblest contrition for my conduct, and my petition for their gracious pardon. O all ye powers of decency and decorum! whisper to them that my errors, though great, were involuntary-that an intoxicated man is the vilest of beasts-that it was not in my nature to be brutal to any one-that to be rude to a woman, when in my senses, was impossible with me-but- * * * * * * Regret! Remorse! Shame! ye three hellhounds that ever dog my steps and bay at my heels, spare me! spare me ! Forgive the offences, and pity the perdition of, Madam, your humble slave. R. B. No. CCXLIV. TO MRS. RIDDEL. MR. BURNS'S Compliments to Mrs. Riddel- is much obliged to her for her polite attention in sending him the book. Owing to Mr. B. being at present acting as supervisor of excise, a department that occupies his every hour of the day, he has not that time to spare which is necessary for any belle-lettre pursuit; but, as he will, in a week or two, again return to his wonted leisure, he will then pay that attention to Mrs. R.'s beautiful song, "To thee, loved Nith"-which it so well deserves. When "Anacharsis' Travels" come to hand, which Mrs. Riddel mentioned as her gift to the public library, Mr. B. will feel honoured by the indulgence of a perusal of them before presentation: it is a book he has never yet seen, and the regulations of the library allow too little leisure for deliberate reading. Friday Evening. P. S. Mr. Burns will be much obliged to Mrs. Riddel if she will favour him with a perusal of any of her poetical pieces which he may not have seen. Dumfries-1795. [I am indebted to my friend Sir Andrew Halliday for this characteristic note. He is now in the West Indies, and will not likely see this edition of his favourite poet till all the volumes have issued from the press. When he opens it he will observe how much use I have made of the many interesting conversations with which he indulged me-his taste is as true as his heart is warm -and in all matters connected with the history and literature of Scotland, I have never found him at a loss. In the song of "To thee loved Nith" alluded to by the poet, there are some fine verses. "And now your banks and bonnie braes But waken sad remembrance' smart : Now strike fresh anguish to my heart: The flowers of spring how gay they bloomed The flowers of spring are past away For wintry horrors dark and drear. Yon osier'd stream by whose lone banks Is now in icy fetters locked Cold as my false love's frozen breast." ED.] |