to the poets whom we are more likely to see, and in whom the same blemishes, with an inferior portion of genius, would be far less tolerable. We consider no poet to be exempt from criticism, in the liberal sense of the word; and, whenever criticism speaks, she must speak honestly and frankly, not fearing to touch the best, and still less to touch the next best, where she sees any infringement of the immutable principles of beauty or truth.
We must further observe, by way of preface, that, in criticising the writings of a man like Burns, it is not to be supposed that we should ever have to find fault with a total emptiness of thought or absence of elegance. It was probably as impossible for him to have written a silly or absolutely dull song, as it would have been for Burke, in any mood of negligence, to have conversed in downright drivel. The defects we shall have to detect are of a different kind, consisting either in individual blots disfiguring a form otherwise fair, or in an inferior degree of that beauty and finish which are essential to lyric poetry. Let it be remembered, also, that Burns became latterly anxious to revise the songs which he had written—a consideration which does not dispense with the duty of observing their defects, but which exculpates him from the suspicion of over-estimating their merits.
We now commence our task by selecting some of the most conspicuous examples of songs which, in our opinion, the poet should have been advised to withhold as unworthy of his genius, at least in the state in which they appear. Our selection shall chiefly be made from Mr Thomson's Collection or Correspondence, which, from its authoritative and prominent character, as well as from the great beauty of many of the songs contained in it, ought to have excluded every thing that was not excellent.
What has the following to recommend it, except one or two smooth lines here and there?—
"True-hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr,
But by the sweet tide o' the Nith's winding river,
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fain
To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;
To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain;
Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.
"O fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring,
Enthroned in her een he delivers his law;
And still to her charms she alone is a stranger,
Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'."
The versification of this song seems to us to be deadened by the absence of rhyme in the first and third lines of the quatrain, while the ideas generally are tame and the expressions prosaic. Elegance is an attribute of heroines that should not be mentioned in song, however it may be admired in reality. "Sweet is the lily at evening close," will not scan without a mispronunciation. The images of love sitting in her smile "a wizard ensnaring," and delivering his law "enthroned in her een," have not much happiness, and are inconsistent with simplicity. "Still to her charms she alone is a stranger," has as little of poetry in it for a concluding thought, as can well be imagined.
The following song is declared by Mr Thomson to be "quite enchanting." Read it carefully, and say if you are of the same opinion.
"Blythe ha'e I been on yon hill,
As the lambs before me;
Careless ilka thought and free,
As the breeze flew o'er me:
Now nae langer sport and play,
Mirth or sing can please me;
Lesley is sae fair and coy,
Care and anguish seize me.
"Heavy, heavy, is the task,
Hopeless love declaring:
Trembling, I dow nocht but glowr,
Sighing, dumb, despairing!
If she winna ease the thraws
In my bosom swelling,
Underneath the grass-green sod
Soon maun be my dwelling."
We own we do not feel the power
