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The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) - Gredos ...

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<strong>The</strong> Salamanca Corpus: <strong>The</strong> <strong>Poetical</strong> <strong>Works</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Miss</strong> <strong>Susanna</strong> <strong>Blamire</strong> (<strong>1842</strong>)<br />

and deservedly popular poems and songs, has one directly <strong>of</strong> the same title, the hint <strong>of</strong><br />

which seems evidently to have been taken from this; there can be no mistake <strong>of</strong> the<br />

paternity. Mr Stenhouse informs us that Macneill said to him, the cause why he had not<br />

included this song in the uniform edition <strong>of</strong> his was, that “Mr John Hamilton, music-seller<br />

in Edinburgh, took the liberty to add to it (the last stanza), and to publish it as a sheet song.”<br />

Now, I wish to impute no motive beyond what the amiable author in question has stated;<br />

but I cannot help thinking that there must have been some impression lurking in his<br />

memory, that he had heard some part <strong>of</strong> the song before he began to work it out on his own<br />

plan.<br />

I have now finished my task; and having finished it, I cannot help wishing it had<br />

fallen into better hands: but this I must say for myself, that with me it has been a labour <strong>of</strong><br />

love. <strong>The</strong> earnest object <strong>of</strong> my juvenile days was to collect the writings <strong>of</strong> a lady who had<br />

awakened my young mind to the beauties <strong>of</strong> poetry; and I cannot but rejoice that it has been<br />

my lot, in mature<br />

[xlvii]<br />

age, to be the humble instrument <strong>of</strong> giving them to the world. I now leave them to their<br />

fate, conscious that “<strong>The</strong> Muse <strong>of</strong> Cumberland” will be the favourite <strong>of</strong> many yet unborn;<br />

and shall conclude by saying to the rising generation, in the words <strong>of</strong> her own undying<br />

lyric—<br />

When time has past, and seasons fled,<br />

Your hearts will feel like mine;<br />

And aye the sang will maist delight<br />

That minds ye o’ langsyne!

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