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INDEX TO THE POETRY,

IN THE ALPHABETICAL ORDER OF THE FIRST LINES.

VOL. II.

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BY

yon Castle wa' at the close of the day,
Dear Burns, thou brother of my heart,
Fair fa’ the honest rustic swain, .
Farewell thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,
How does my dear friend, much I languish to hear,
How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite,
I look to the west when I gae to rest,
Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art,
Lise ne'er exulted in so rich a prize,
Like the fair plant that from our touch withdraws,
My Mary, dear departed shade!
No sculptur'd marble here, nor pompous lay,
No song nor dance bring I from yon great city,
Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
O that I had ne'er been married,
O that my father had ne'er on me smild,
0, why should old age so much wound us? 0,..

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LETTERS,

&c.

No. I.

To MR. JOHN MURDOCH,

SCHOOLMASTER,

STAPLES INN BUILDINGS, LONDON.

Lochlee, 15th January, 1783.

DEAR SIR,

As I have an opportunity of sending you a letter, without putting you to that expense which any production of mine would but ill repay, I embrace it with pleasure, to tell you that I have not forgotten, nor ever will forget, the many obligations I lie under to your kindness and friendship.

VOL. II.

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