CCCIII.
TO MR. THOMSON.
[The presents made to the poet were far from numerous: the book for which he expresses his thanks, was the work of the waspish Ritson.]
November, 1794.
Many thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your present; it is a book of the utmost importance to me. I have yesterday begun my anecdotes, &c., for your work. I intend drawing them up in the form of a letter to you, which will save me from the tedious dull business of systematic arrangement. Indeed, as all I have to say consists of unconnected remarks, anecdotes, scraps of old songs, &c., it would be impossible to give the work a beginning, a middle, and an end, which the critics insist to be absolutely necessary in a work. In my last, I told you my objections to the song you had selected for “My lodging is on the cold ground.” On my visit the other day to my friend Chloris (that is the poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration), she suggested an idea, which I, on my return from the visit, wrought into the following song.
My Chloris, mark how green the groves.[267]
How do you like the simplicity and tenderness of this pastoral? I think it pretty well.
I like you for entering so candidly and so kindly into the story of “ma chere amie.” I assure you I was never more in earnest in my life, than in the account of that affair which I sent you in my last. Conjugal love is a passion which I deeply feel, and highly venerate; but, somehow, it does not make such a figure in poesy as that other species of the passion,
“Where love is liberty, and nature law.”