The first lines of “The last time I came o’er the moor,” and several other lines in it, are beautiful; but, in my opinion—pardon me, revered shade of Ramsay!—the song is unworthy of the divine air. I shall try to make or mend.
“For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove,”[209] is a charming song; but “Logan burn and Logan braes” is sweetly susceptible of rural imagery; I’ll try that likewise, and, if I succeed, the other song may class among the English ones. I remember the two last lines of a verse in some of the old songs of “Logan Water” (for I know a good many different ones) which I think pretty:—
“Now my dear lad maun faces his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.”[210]
“My Patie is a lover gay,” is unequal. “His mind is never muddy,” is a muddy expression indeed.
“Then I’ll resign and marry Pate,
And syne my cockernony—“
This is surely far unworthy of Ramsay or your book. My song, “Rigs of barley,” to the same tune, does not altogether please me; but if I can mend it, and thrash a few loose sentiments
. out of it, I will submit it to your consideration. “The lass o’ Patie’s mill” is one of Ramsay’s best songs; but there is one loose sentiment in it, which my much-valued friend Mr. Erskine will take into his critical consideration. In Sir John Sinclair’s statistical volumes, are two claims—one, I think from Aberdeenshire, and the other from Ayrshire—for the honour of this song. The following anecdote, which I had from the present Sir William Cunningham of Robertland, who had it of the late John, Earl of Loudon, I can, on such authorities, believe:
Allan Ramsay was residing at Loudon-castle with the then Earl, father to Earl John; and one forenoon, riding or walking, out together, his lordship and Allan passed a sweet romantic spot on Irvine water, still called “Patie’s mill,” where a bonnie lass was “tedding hay, bare-headed on the green.” My lord observed to Allan, that it would be a fine theme for a song. Ramsay took the hint, and, lingering behind, he composed the first sketch of it, which he produced at dinner.
“One day I heard Mary say,”[211] is a fine song; but, for consistency’s sake, alter the name “Adonis.” Were there ever such banns published, as a purpose of marriage between Adonis and Mary! I agree with you that my song, “There’s nought but care on every hand,” is much superior to “Poortith cauld.” The original song, “The mill, mill, O!”[212] though excellent, is, on account of delicacy, inadmissible; still I like the title, and think a Scottish song would suit the notes best; and let your chosen song, which is very pretty, follow as an English set. “The Banks of the Dee” is, you know, literally “Langolee,” to slow time. The song is well enough, but has some false imagery in it: for instance,
“And sweetly the nightingale sang from the tree.”