A Love Letter From One Of Robert Burns’s Women

Agnes Maclehose (26 April 1758–23 October 1841), or Agnes Craig, known to her friends as Nancy and to Robert Burns followers as Clarinda, was a Scotswoman who had an unconsummated affair with Burns during 1787–88, on which he based the 1791 song ‘Ae Fond Kiss’. The pseudonyms of her ‘Clarinda’ to his ‘Sylvander’ were adopted by the pair for confidential correspondence purposes.

My Sylvander, I am your Clarinda, we are born to be star-crossed lovers, a blessing no less, perhaps, that despite not meeting more than a few times, your years of letters have scored life for me in words; sent me under a spell, powerful enough to pull me away from visions of everyday decorum & mundane hell.

You, my love, have shown me only heavens’ fine-tune.

For the poet in you, speaks to the poetess in me, yet friendship is all I can offer because, of course, I am already married. While I live my fondest attention will be my children’s & well, you wear your wife’s hair in your wedding ring: the hand that holds the ink, that caresses my cheek.

That night you came for tea at mine in Potterow, that warm December just before you fell off your horse, silly, had to swallow laudanum for weeks & were confined to your room for almost two months. I awaited your visit, I looked out from the tenement to an island below untouched & lit up for the lovers with mornings that dwindled into dawn & enveloped each other as naked as winter trees.

Indoors, the tablecloth was a thin veil between worlds, time undressed as it waited, harboured a melancholy yearning, soaked in the Saudade for those who once sat, but resolute in its stitch of return, of capture, an altar for the living & dead ensemble, for the lost & found, presence in absence, the feast & the famine; the meaty claws of the broken heart.

I scold my fingertips on the turrets
as rock formations under the castle
take on otherwise hidden curves in the light
trying on sun rays & haar
like funeral dresses
in a full-length mirror.

For the servant you seduced, who passed our notes between us, were you so unable to hold back your lascivious ways? This morning I woke at first light & my first thoughts were of you. I will regain full composure in the distance between us. As the months heat up, I’ll set myself to simmer.

We didn’t stop talking for days.

It is the quiet that understands echo.

The heart & the heat; radiation of intimacy; devotion.

You must think me dramatic, but ‘I am yours’ you say & I practice unpeeling the barbed wire to let down the grand drawbridge, enter my King, unmount your horse, you must be weary from your travels & your galloping mind, bow down to kiss my hand … follow me into my earthly chamber …

My imaginings could drive me to delirium yet I have mastered the art of waiting now,
& I wait for you, with ease & splendid company; with faith.
I believe in you & all of your visions.

The moonlight on metal right now is a terrific silk.
Though I sit still, I cannot sit still long.

What sustains the creative spirit?
A beating heart, a restless mind & a wandering soul.

The amethyst sunset of Edinburgh matches your glow
when you tell a racy story or sing a rattling song at a ball.

Look what we have accomplished so far;
the deep levels of unconditional love
& expanding consciousness.
Endless open pockets of desire;
deep growth & understanding,
the ability to listen, to ground,
to love without caution,
to dance without friction,
to sing & howl,
to commune with the spirits,
to dream bigger, live harder,
to commit & harness compassion
& put someone else’s ethical feelings
before our own egoic qualms. This is love.

My beautiful owl; hunter of my heart, able to see in the dark, a creature that makes no sound as it steadies over its prey, a bird of the sharpest talons & widest eyes. A hawk out hunting the next carnal fix, for greener pastures.

I am glad you listened to me about giving Jenny coin now she is pregnant, I know her story makes your heart weep. You say you love me but hold me along with other women, it feels toxic to me. That’s what pathological people do, they manufacture rivalry & jealousy via third parties to feel sought after … in demand, at the same time, making one feel something must be changed … one must try harder to win affection.

I do believe you have strong narcissistic tendencies & I don’t want to be that cake & eat it, I don’t want to be the main dish but with lots of side courses, as you fill up on intensely, or slyly, spiced experiences & leave no room for the grande serving when we finally have some time together.

Oh, I am barely resisting anything but a hedonistic slouch today. You are my weakness & yet so much of my strength. Your voice. Your touch. My heart accelerated. Latch on to me a little longer …

I’m always here for you, constantly piping hot, wrapped in lace.

I understand that you just want to be free & conjugal love to you is not the language of poesy but if you trample hearts in that odyssey then, well, who really are you, when your actions don’t meet your words?

But I have been blessed
with more than you know
in knowing you.

I embrace this energy of a life’s silence, as you sit & write three hours over a bottle, those mischief-making daemons you speak of, disrupting your peace but never tainting your honour, such instant gratification does not do well for me.

All our language is spent & all that is left is ae fond kiss,
I try to forget the feeling & meaning of your lips
how every other after you seemed bland;
I wish there were fewer unmentionables in between,
more times we let love reign over the Hierophant’s stare.

It is late now, into the tail arms of Morpheus I fall,
our love will live on in the hearts of many;

you have been the most beautiful worship.

Agnes Nancy Maclehose