While terra firma, on her axis, Count on a friend, in faith an' practice, POSTSCRIPT. My memory's no worth a preen *; Ye bade me write you what they mean 'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been In days when mankind were but callansb They took nae pains their speech to balance, But spak their thoughts in plain, braid lallans, e In thae auld times, they thought the moon, Gaed past their viewin; An' shortly after she was done They gat a new ane. This passed for certain, undisputed; EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMSON Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the beuk, Wad threap auld folk the thing misteuk; An' out o' sight, An' backlins-comin to the leuk She grew mair bright. This was deny'd, it was affirm'd; The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' storm'd, Should think they better were inform'd, Frae less to mair, it gaed to sticks; ⚫ assert. Wi' hearty crunt*; An' some, to learn them for their tricks, ⚫ knock. This game was play'd in mony lands, Till lairds forbad, by strict commands, But new-light herds gat sic a cowe, Till now, amaist on ev'ry knowe Ye'll find ane plac'd; An' some their new-light fair avow, Just quite barefac'd. Nae doubt the auld-light flocks are bleatin; corner. • flocks. d blows and whacks. completely. Mysel', I've even seen them greetin To hear the moon sae sadly lied on But shortly they will cowe the louns! An' stay ae month amang the moons Guid observation they will gie them; An' when the new-light billies see them, Sae, ye observe that a' this clatter с I hope we bardies ken some better " Than mind sic brulyie.d RANTIN, ROVIN ROBIN Tho' cruel Fate should bid us Part.1 Tune-"The Northern Lass." THO' cruel fate should bid us part, Tho' mountains rise, and deserts howl, Song-Rantin, Rovin Robin. Tune-"Daintie Davie." THERE was a lad was born in Kyle, Chor.-Robin was a rovin boy, Rantin, rovin, rantin, rovin, Our monarch's hindmost year but ane 'Twas then a blast o' Janwar' win' Blew hansela in on Robin. Robin was, &c. • a first gift. 1 Probably Jean is Miss Armour : the piece is completed, as it were, in "O' a' the airts the wind can blaw." 2 Not published by Burns. The tune, Dainty Davie, is earlier, it seems, than the Presbyterian Dainty Davie, so justly admired for his gallantry by Charles II. The text depends on Cromek (1808), who gives the last verse thus : "Guid faith," quo' scho, "I doub ... The common reading, here adopted, is Cunningham's, who gives no authority for it. 8 Jan. 25, 1759, the date of my bardship's vital existence.-R. B. The gossip keekit in his loof, Quo' scho, "Wha lives will see the proof, с I think we'll ca' him Robin.' Robin was, &c. "He'll hae misfortunes great an' sma', We'll a' be proud o' Robin." "But sure as three times three mak nine, This chap will dearly like our kin', So leeze me on thee! Robin." "Guid faith," quo' scho,b "I doubt you gar But twenty fauts ye may hae waur So blessins on thee! Robin.” Robin was, &c. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux.1 Now Robin lies in his last lair, He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair; Nae mair shall fear him; Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care, b said she. 1 The date is uncertain: Mr Scott Douglas conjectures that Burns intended it for his Kilmarnock edition, d fool. ⚫ my heart is set. and withdrew it in favour of "The Poet's Epitaph." Ruisseaux is French for rivulets or 'burns,' a translation of his name. |