So, row'd his hurdiest in a hammock,
An' owre the sea.

He ne'er was gien to great misguidin',
Yet coin his pouches" wad na bide in ;
Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding;
He dealt it free;

The Muse was a' that he took pride in,
That's owre the sea.

Jamaica bodies, use him weel,
An' hap him in a cozie biel :*
Ye'll find him ay a dainty chiel,
And fou o' glee;

He wad na wrang'd the vera Deil,
That's owre the sea.

Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie!
- our native soil was right ill-willie ;
But may ye flourish like a lily,

Now bonniely!

I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillie,
Tho' owre the sea.

ELEGY ON THE YEAR 1788.

January 1, 780.

FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn,

E'en let them die-for that they're born!
But, oh! prodigious to reflect,
A towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck!
O Eighty-eight, in thy sma' space
What dire events hae taken place!
Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us!
In what a pickle thou hast left us!

The Spanish empire 's tintb a head,
And my auld teethless Bawtie's dead;

• Rolled, wrapped. t Loins, or backside.

w To wrap, to cover. y Ill-natured, malicious.

a Twelvemonth.

b Lost.

N

u Pockets, Snug shelter.

z Dimin. of Gill.
c Name for a dog.

The toolzie's teughe 'tween Pitt and Fox,
An' our gudewife's wee birdie cocks ;
The tane is game, a bluidy devil,
But to the hen-birds unco civil;
The tither's dour,f has nae sic breedin',
But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden.

Ye ministers, come mount the pulpit,
An' cry till ye be hearse an' rupit ;h
For Eighty-eight he wish'd you weel,
And giedi you a' baith geark an' meal;
E'en monie a plack,' an' monie a peck,
Ye ken yoursels, for little feck !m

Ye bonnie lasses dight" your een,
For some o' you hae tint a frien':
In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was taen
What ye'll ne'er hae to gie again.

Observe the very nowto an' sheep,
How dowffp an' dowie now they creep;
Nay, ev'n the yirth itself does cry,
For E'nbrugh wells are grutten dry.

O Eighty-nine, thou 's but a bairn,
An' no owre auld, I hope, to learn!
Thou beardless boy, I pray tak care!
Thou now hast got thy daddie's chair;
Nae hand-cuff'd, muzzl'd, half-shackl❜d regent,
But, like himsel', a full, free agent.

Be sure to follow out the plan

Nae waurt than he did, honest man!

As muckle better as you can.

k Goods, effects.

An old coin, the third part of a Scotch penny. m Value, or consideration.

Black cattle.

Earth.

p Pithless.

n Wipe.
g Worn with grief.

s Wept

Worse.

ELEGY ON THE

DEATH OF ROBERT RUISSEAUX."

Now Robin lies in his last lair,w

He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair,

Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare,

Nae mair shall fear him ;

Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care,

E'er mair come near him.

To tell the truth, they seldom fashty him;
Except the moment that they crusht him;
For sune as chance or fate had husht 'em,
Tho' e'er sae short,

Then wi' a rhyme or song he lasht 'em,
An' thought it sport.—

Though he was bred to kintra wark,
And counted was baith wight and stark,"
Yet that was never Robin's mark

To mak a man;

But tell him, he was learn'd and clark,
Ye roos'd him then!

ELEGY ON THE

DEATH OF PEG NICHOLSON,

A favourite Mare belonging to Mr. W. Nicol, of the High School, Edinburgh-the Willie' that brew'd a Peck o' Maut.'

PEG Nicholson was a gude bay mare,

As ever trode on airn ;c

But now she's floating down the Nith,
An' past the Mouth o' Cairn.d

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' rode thro' thick an' thin;

u Ruisseaux-a play on his own name.
x Cross, ill-conditioned.
a Strong, powerful

w A place for lying down. Troubled.

c Iron.

z Country.

b Learned and clever.

d A tributary stream of the Nith.

But now she's floating down the Nith,
An' wanting even the skin.

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' ance she baree a priest;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
For Solway fish a feast.

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' the priest he rode her sair;

An' meikle oppress'd an' bruised she was,
As priest-rid cattle are.

EPIGRAMS, &c.

EPIGRAM

On Elphinstone's translation of Martial's Epigrams,

O THOU Whom Poetry abhors,

Whom Prose has turned out of doors,

Heard'st thou that groan-proceed no further, 'Twas laurell'd Martial roaring murder.

EXTEMPORE, WRITTEN IN A LADY'S POCKET BOOK.

GRANT me, indulgent Heav'n, that I may live To see the miscreants feel the pains they give: Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air, Till slave and despot be but things which were.

VERSES

Written on the windows of the Globe Tavern, Dumfries. THE grey-beard, old Wisdom, may boast of hrs

treasures,

Give me with gay Folly to live;

I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures, But Folly has raptures to give.

e Did bear.

f Much.

I MURDER hate by field or flood,
Tho' glory's name may screen us;
In wars at hame I'll spend my blood,
Life-giving wars of Venus.

The deities that I adore,

Are social Peace and Plenty;
I'm better pleas'd to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty.

IN politics if thou would'st mix,
And mean thy fortunes be;

Bear this in mind, Be deaf and blind,
Let great folks hear and see.'

EPIGRAM ON CAPTAIN GROSE.

THE Devil got notice that Grose was a-dying,
So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay

moaning,

And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning, Astonish'd, confounded, cry'd Satan, By G-d, I'll want 'im ere I take such a damnable load!

EXTEMPORE,

In answer to an invitation to spend an hour at a Tavern.
THE King's most humble servant, I
Can scarcely spare a minute;
But I'll be wi' you by and bye;
Or else the Deil's be in it.

f Mr. Grose was exceedingly corpulent, and used to rally himself, with the greatest good humour, on the singular rotundity of his figure. This Epigram, written by Burns in a moment of festivity, was so much relished by the antiquarian, that he made it serve as an excuse for prolonging the convivial occasion that gave i birth to a very late hour.