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Robert Burns (1759–1796).  Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics.  1909–14.
 
66. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux
 
 
NOW Robin 1 lies in his last lair,
He’ll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair;
Cauld poverty, wi’ hungry stare,
                Nae mair shall fear him;
Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care,        5
                E’er mair come near him.
 
To tell the truth, they seldom fash’d him,
Except the moment that they crush’d him;
For sune as chance or fate had hush’d ’em
                Tho’ e’er sae short.        10
Then wi’ a rhyme or sang he lash’d ’em,
                And thought it sport.
 
Tho’he was bred to kintra-wark,
And counted was baith wight and stark,
Yet that was never Robin’s mark        15
                To mak a man;
But tell him, he was learn’d and clark,
                Ye roos’d him then!
 
Note 1. Ruisseaux is French for rivulets or “burns,” a translation of his name. [back]
 

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