'Life's cares, they are comforts' a maxim laid down

By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown;

And, faith, I agree with th' old prig to a hair;
For a big-bellied bottle 's a heaven of care.

ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.

THEN fill up a bumper, and make it o’erflow,
And honors masonic prepare for to throw;
May every true brother of th' compass and square
Have a big-bellied bottle when harassed with
care!

"THOUGH CRUEL FATE SHOULD BID US

PART."

THOUGH cruel Fate should bid us part,
As far's the Pole and Line,

Her dear idea round my heart
Should tenderly entwine.

Though mountains frown and deserts howl,
And oceans roar between ;
Yet, dearer than my deathless soul,
I still would love my Jean.

ONE night as I did wander,
When corn begins to shoot,

I sat me down to ponder,
Upon an auld tree-root.

Auld Ayr ran by before me,
And bickered to the seas,
A cushat crooded o'er me,

That echoed through the braes.

ROBIN.

TUNE- Dainty Davie.

THERE was a lad was born in Kyle, But whatna day o' whatna style,

I doubt it's hardly worth my while

To be sae nice wi' Robin.

Robin was a rovin' boy,

Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin';

Robin was a rovin' boy,

Rantin' rovin' Robin!

Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
'Twas then a blast o' Janwar' win'
Blew handsel in on Robin.

The gossip keekit in his loof,

Quo' scho, wha lives will see the proof, This waly boy will be nae coof;

I think we'll ca' him Robin.

He'll hae misfortunes great and sma', But aye a heart aboon them a’;

He'll be a credit till us a';
We'll a' be proud o' Robin.

But sure as three times three mak nine,
I see by ilka score and line,
This chap will dearly like our kin’,
So leeze me on thee, Robin.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT
RUISSEAUX.

OW Robin lies in his last lair,

NOW

He'll gabble rhyme nor sing nae mair,

Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare,

Nae mair shall fear him;

Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care,

E'er mair come near him.

To tell the truth, they seldom fash't him,
Except the moment that they crush't him;
For sune as chance or fate had hush't 'em,
Though e'er sae short,

Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lash't 'em,
And thought it sport.

Though he was bred to kintra wark,
And counted was baith wight and stark,
Yet that was never Robin's mark

To mak a man;

But tell him, he was learned and clark,
Ye roosed him than!

THE BELLES OF MAUCHLINE.

IN Mauchline there. dwells six proper young

belles,

The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a', Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess, In Lon'on or Paris, they'd gotten it a'.

Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland's divine,

Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw, There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton; But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a'.

WHEN FIRST I CAME TO STEWART KYLE.

WE

TUNE-I had a Horse, I had nae mair.

WHEN first I came to Stewart Kyle,
My mind it was na steady,

Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade,

A mistress still I had aye.

But when I came roun' by Mauchline toun,

Not dreadin' anybody,

My heart was caught before I thought,
And by a Mauchline lady.

VOL. I.

THOUGH FICKLE FORTUNE HAS DECEIVED
ME.

THOUGH fickle fortune has deceived me,
She promised fair, and performed but ill;
Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereaved me,
Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.

I'll act with prudence as far 's I'm able,
But if success I must never find,
Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.1

OH RAGING FORTUNE'S WITHERING BLAST.

OH raging fortune's withering blast

Has laid my leaf full low, O!

Oh raging fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!

My stem was fair, my bud was green,
My blossom sweet did blow, O;
The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild,
And made my branches grow, 0.

1 "The above was an extempore, under the pressure of a heavy train of misfortunes, which indeed threatened to undo me altogether."-B.