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Where Cessnock pours with gurgling sound,1
And Irwine, marking out the bound,
Enamoured of the scenes around,

Slow runs his race,

A name I doubly honoured found,2

With knightly grace.

Brydone's brave ward, I saw him stand,3
Fame humbly offering her hand;
And near his kinsman's rustic band,4
With one accord,

Lamenting their late blessed land

Must change its lord.

The owner of a pleasant spot,
Near sandy wilds I did him note ;5
A heart too warm, a pulse too hot,
At times o'erran ;

But large in every feature wrote,

Appeared the man.

1 Auchinskieth.

2 Caprington. B. Cunningham of Caprington, Baronet. 8 Colonel Fullarton. - B.

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5 Orangefield. — B. Mr. Dalrymple of Orangefield, near Ayr, was an active patron of Burns.

SONG,

IN THE CHARACTER OF A RUINED FARMER.

TUNE-Go from my window, Love, do.

The sun he is sunk in the west,
All creatures retirèd to rest,
While here I sit all sore beset

With sorrow, grief, and wo;

And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!

The prosperous man is asleep,

Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep;

But Misery and I must watch

The surly tempest blow:

And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!

There lies the dear partner of my breast, Her cares for a moment at rest:

Must I see thee, my youthful pride,

Thus brought so very low!

And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!

There lie my sweet babies in her arms, No anxious fear their little heart alarms; But for their sake my heart doth ache, With many a bitter throe:

And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!

I once was by Fortune carest,

I once could relieve the distrest:
Now, life's poor support hardly earned,
My fate will scarce bestow:

And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!

No comfort, no comfort I have!
How welcome to me were the grave!
But then my wife and children dear,
O whither would they go?

And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!

O whither, O whither shall I turn!
All friendless, forsaken, forlorn!
For in this world Rest or Peace

I never more shall know! And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!

END OF VOL. I.

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