So may the auld year gang out moaning To see the new come laden, groaning, Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin

To thee and thine; Domestic peace and comforts crowning The hale design.

POSTSCRIPT.

Ye've heard this while how I've been licket, And by fell death was nearly nicket;

(1) John Bushby, of Tinwald-downs.

[Miss Jessy Lewars watched over the declining days of the poet, with the affectionate reverence of a daughter: for this she has the silent gratitude of all who admire the genius of Burns; she has received more, the thanks of the poet himself, expressed in verses not destined soon to die.]

THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair,
And with them take the Poet's prayer;
That fate may in her fairest page,
With every kindliest best presage,
Of future bliss enrol thy name:
With native worth, and spotless fame,
And wakeful caution still aware
Of ill-but chief, man's felon snare;
All blameless joys on earth we find,
And all the treasures of the mind-
These be thy guardian and reward;
So prays thy faithful friend, The Bard.
June 26, 1796.

CLIII.

POEM ON LIFE.

ADDRESSED TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER. DUMFRIES, 1796.

[This is supposed to be the last Poem written by the hand, or conceived by the muse of Burns. The person to whom it is addressed was Colonel of the gentlemen Volunteers of Dumfries, in whose ranks Burns was a private: he was a Canadian by birth, and prided himself on having defended Detroit, against the united efforts of the French and Americans. He was rough and austere, and thought the science of war the noblest of all sciences: he affected a taste for literature, and wrote verses.]