Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 66. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux |
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| 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. | |
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| 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. | |
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| 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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