The poetical works of Robert Burns . tion ; the fever increased rapidly, and on thefourth day tlie sufferings of this great but ill-fated geniusterminated, and a life was closed in which virtue and passionhad been at perpetual variance.—Dr. Curries Life of Burns. He was buried with military honours by the gentlemen vcltm-teers of Dumfries. Burns Avas nearly five feet ten inches in height; Ids face was XXvi MEMOIR OF ROBERT well-formed, liis eyes large, dark, and full of expression. Timehas drawn a merciful veil over tlie failings of the sorely triedman. and has crowned the Poet with a
The poetical works of Robert Burns . tion ; the fever increased rapidly, and on thefourth day tlie sufferings of this great but ill-fated geniusterminated, and a life was closed in which virtue and passionhad been at perpetual variance.—Dr. Curries Life of Burns. He was buried with military honours by the gentlemen vcltm-teers of Dumfries. Burns Avas nearly five feet ten inches in height; Ids face was XXvi MEMOIR OF ROBERT well-formed, liis eyes large, dark, and full of expression. Timehas drawn a merciful veil over tlie failings of the sorely triedman. and has crowned the Poet with a fame which will endureas long as Scotland exists. The details of his troubled life fully and well in the late Mr, Robert Cliamberss Life andWorks of Burns. Only a brief space could be allowed in thisvolume for a biographical notice ; but the poems themselves con-tain the liistory of his mind and heart more fully than any otherpen could ever tell it; and to them we refer the reader for thetnie life of Bui-ns. #^^ Mi^MMM. THE POETICAL WORKS OF EGBERT BURNS. THE COTTERS SATURDAY NIGHT. [In-jcribed to R. Aisen, Esq.] Let not ambition mock thtir useful toil,Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,The short but simple annals of the poor. Grat. My loved, my honoured, much respected friend !No mercenary bard his homage pays ;With honest jjride I scorn each selfish end:My dearest meed, a friends esteem and praise:To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,The lowly train in lifes sequestered scene;The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;What Aiken in a cottage would have leen;Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there,! ween November chill blaws loud wi angry sugh; The shortening winter-day is near a close;The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;The blackening trains o craws to their repose :The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,This night his weekly moil is at an end,Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes
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Keywords: ., bookauthorburnsrob, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
