Page

a

.

.

Written in Friars Carse Hermitage, .

298

Ode to the Memory of Mrs. of

301

Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson,

304

Lament of Mary Queen of Scots,

311

To Robert Graham, Esq. of Fintra,

315

Lament for James, Earl of Glencairn,

320

Lines sent to Sir John Whitefoord, with the foregoing

Poem, .

324

Tam o' Shanter. A Tale, .

325

On seeing a wounded hare a fellow had shot at, 335

Address to the Shade of Thomson,

337

Epitaph on a celebrated Ruling Elder,

339

on a noisy Polemic,

340

on Wee Johnny,

ibid

for the Author's Father,

ibid

for R. A. Esq.

341

G. H. Esq.

ibid

A Bard's Epitaph,

342

On Captain Grose's Peregrinations,

344

On Miss Cruikshauks,

348

Song, “ Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,”

”

350

On the Death of John M Leod,

351

Humble Petition of Bruar Water,

353

On scaring some Water-fowl,

358

Written at the Inn at Taymouth,

361

at the Fall of Fyers, ·

363

On the Birth of a Posthumous Child,

365

The Whistle,

367

Second Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet,

379

APPENDIX, containing some particulars of the His-

tory of the Poems in this Volume, by Gilbert

BURNS,

377

GLOSSARY,

399

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

INDEX TO THE POETRY,

IN THE ALPHABETICAL ORDER OF THE FIRST LINES.

VOL. III.

.

Page

292

361

283

206

140

204

363
350

77

213

348
277
340

84

301

230

220

217

290
280

99

227

117
344

Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu!

Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,

Again rejoicing Nature sees, .

Again the silent wheels of time,

A guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie!

All bail! inexorable lord ! .

Among the heathy hills and ragged woods,

Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,

As Mailie an' her lambs thegither,

A' ye wha live by soups o' drink,

Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay,

Behind yon hills where Lugar flows,

Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes,

Dear g****, the sleest, paukie thief,

Dweller in yon dungeon dark,

Edina! Scotia's darling seat! .

Expect na, Sir, in this narration,

Fair fa' your honest , sonsie face,

From thee, Eliza, I must go,

Green grow the rashes, O,

Guid-mornin to your Majesty!
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie,
Has auld K***

seen the Deil?
Hear, Land of Cakcs, and brither Scots,

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Here sowter **** in death does sleep,
I gat your letter, winsome Willie,
I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor,
Inhuman man ! curse on thy barb'rous art,
I sing of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
Is there a whim-inspired fool,
It was upon a Lammas night,
Know thon O stranger to the fame,
Kilmarnock Wabsters, fidge an' claw,
Lament in rhyme, lament in prose,
Late crippld of an arm, and now a leg,
Let other poets raise a fracas,
My lord, I know, your noble ear,
My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend!
No churchman am I for to rail and to write,
Now Nature hangs her mantle green,
Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns,
Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care,
O Death! thou tyrant fell and bloody!
O rough, rude, ready-witted R******,
O Thou dread Pow'r, who reign’st above !
O Thou Great Being, what thou art,
O Thou pale orb, that silent shines,
O Thou, the first, the greatest friend !
O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause,
O Thou! whatever title suit thee,
O ye wha are sae guid yoursel,
O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
Right Sir! your text I'll prove it true,
Sad thy tale, thou idle page,
Some books are lies frae end to end,
Stop passenger! my story's brief,
Sweet Flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
The gloomy night is gath’ring fast,
The man, in life, wherever plac'd, .
The poor man weeps--here G-n sleeps,
The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
The sup bad clos'd the winter day, .

Page
393
247
208
372
335
368
342
271
341
61
81
315

12
353
173
295
311
274
167
304
256
192
197
162
199
188

70
113
340

68
351

40
309
365
287
195
341
50
99
The

.

.

.

.

.

.

The wind blew hollow frae the hills,
The wintry west extends his blast,
There was three kings into the east,
Thou whom chance may hither lead,
Thou, who thy honour as thy God reverst,
'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle,
Upon a simmer Sunday morn,
Upon that night, when fairies light,
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
When chapman billies leave the street,
When chill November's surly blast,
When Guildford good our pilot stood,
While briers an' woodbines budding green,
While new-ca'd kye rout at the stake,
Whilė virgin spring, by Eden's flood,
While winds frae aff Ben Lomond blaw,
Whoe'er thou art, O reader know,
Why am I loth to leave this earthly sceue !
Why, ye tenants of the lake,
With musing deep, astonish'd stare,
Ye Irish lords, ye knights an' squires,

Page

320
171
261
298
324

1
28
124
201
146
149
325
183
266
934
241
337
154
340
190
358
106
19

.

.

POEMS,

CHIEFLY

SCOTTISH.

THE TWA DOGS,

A TALE.

W

'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle,
That bears the name o' Auld King Coil,
Upon a bonnie day in June,
When wearing thro' the afternoon,
Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame,
Forgather'd ance upon a time.

VOL. III,

The