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　　Elegy On The Death Of Robert Ruisseaux 注释标题 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! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns