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ON RECEIVING A FAVOUR. * CALL no Goddess to inspire my O strains,

A fabled Muse may suit a Bard that

S feigns;
Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns,
And all the tribute of my heart returns,
For boons recorded, goodness ever new,
The gift still dearer, as the giver you.

Thou orb of day! thou other paler light !
And all ye many sparkling stars of night;
If aught that giver from my mind efface;
If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace;
Then roll to me, along your wand'ring spheres,
Only to number out a villain's years !


BALON honest man here lies at rest,
A As e'er God with his image blest ;

The friend of man, the friend of truth;
w The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
Few heads with knowledge so inform’d:
If there's another world, he lives in bliss ;
If there is none, he made the best of this.

* It has not been ascertained for whom this Epitaph was intended.

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U LD chuckie Reekie'st sair distrest,
) Down droops her ance weel burnish't

# Nae joy her bonie buskit nest

Can yield ava,
Her darling bird that she lo’es best,

Willie's awa!


O Willie was a witty wight,
And had o’things an unco slight;
Auld Reekie ay he keepit tight,

An’trig an’ braw :
But now they'll busk her like a fright,

Willie's awa!


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* Burns sent these verses to his publisher, Mr. Creech, in a letter dated, Selkirk, 13th May, 1787, wherein he says, “ The inclosed I have just wrote, nearly extempore, in a solitary inn in Selkirk, after a miserable wet day's riding. I have been over most of East Lothian, Berwick, Roxburgh, and Selkirkshires, and next week I begin a tour through the north of England.”_“I would write till I would tire you as much with dull prose, as I dare say by this time you are with wretched verse; but I am jaded to death."

† Edinburgh.


Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks, and fools,
Frae colleges and boarding-schools,
May sprout like simmer puddock-stools

In glen or shaw;
He wha could brush them down to mools,

Willie's awa!

The brethren o' the Commerce-Chaumer *
May mourn their loss wi' doolfu' clamour;
He was a dictionar and grammar

Amang them a';
I fear they'll now mak mony a stammer,

Willie's awa!


Nae mair we see his levee door
Philosophers and Poets pour,t
And toothy critics by the score,

In bloody raw,
The adjutant o'a’ the core,

Willie's awa!

Now worthy Gregory's latin face,
Tytler's and Greenfield's modest grace ;
M-Kenzie, Stuart, sic a brace

As Rome ne'er saw;
They a' maun meet some ither place,

Willie's awa!

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Poor Burns e'en Scotch drink canna quicken, He cheeps like some bewildered chicken

* The Chamber of Commerce of Edinburgh, of which Mr. Creech was secretary.

of Many literary gentlemen were accustomed to meet at Mr. Creech's house at breakfast.

Scar'd frae its minnie and the cleckin

By hoodie-craw ; Grief's gien his heart an unco kickin',

Willie's awa!


Now ev'ry sour-mou'd grinin' blellum,
And Calvin's folk, are fit to fell him ;
And self-conceited critic skellum

His quill may draw;
He wha could brawlie ward their bellum,

Willie's awa!

Up wimpling stately Tweed I've sped,
And Eden scenes on crystal Jed,
And Ettrick banks now roaring red,

While tempests blaw;
But every joy and pleasure's fled,

Willie's awa!

May I be slander's common speech;
A text for infamy to preach ;
And lastly, streekit out to bleach

In winter snaw;
When I forget thee, WILLIE CREECH,

Tho’ far awa!

May never wicked fortune touzle him !
May never wicked men bamboozle him !
Until a pow as auld's Methusalem

He canty claw!
Then to the blessed, New Jerusalem,

Fleet wing awa!



“ Here lies Robert Fergusson, Poet,
Born, September 5th, 1751-Died,

16th October, 1774.”

RUTO sculptur'd marble here, nor pompous

"No storied urn nor animated bust;'
This simple stone directs pale Scotia’s

To pour her sorrows o'er her Poet's dust.

* Burns applied for leave to erect a tombstone to Fergusson on the 6th February, 1787, in the following letter:

“ To the honourable Bailies of Canongate, Edinburgh.

“ Gentlemen, I am sorry to be told that the remains of Robert Fergusson, the so justly celebrated poet, a man whose talents, for ages to come, will do honour to our Caledonian name, lie in your church-yard, among the ignoble dead, unnoticed and unknown. Some memorial to direct the steps of the lovers of Scottish song, when they wish to shed a tear over the ‘narrow house of the bard who is no more, is surely a tribute due to Fergusson's memory; a tribute I wish to have the honour of paying. I petition you, then, gentlemen, to permit me to lay a simple stone over his revered ashes, to remain an unalienable property to his deathless fame. I have the honour to be, gentlemen, your very humble servant,

“ Robert Burns." On one side the Stone the above inscription is engraved : and on the other side,

“ By special grant of the Managers to Robert Burns, who erected this stone, this Burial-Place is to remain for ever sacred to the memory of Robert Fergusson."

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