Explore "Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ruisseaux is French for rivulets or "burns," a translation of his name.
Now Robin lies in his last lair, / 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'd him, / Except the moment that they crush'd him; / For sune as chance or fate had hush'd 'em / Tho' e'er sae short. / Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lash'd 'em, / And thought it sport.
Tho'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 learn'd and clark, / Ye roos'd him then!