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INDEX TO THE POETRY,

IN THE ALPHABETICAL ORDER OF THE FIRST LINES.

VOL. II.

BY

y yon Castle wa' at the close of the day,
Dear Burns, thou brother of my heart,

Fair fa' the honest rustic swain, .

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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,

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I look to the west when I gae to rest,
Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art,

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Life 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,

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O that I had ne'er been married,
O that my father had ne'er on me smil'd, .

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O, why should old age so much wound us? O,

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skies,. 385

190

315

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225

357

229

323

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