“Non omnis moriar.” – CAR. III. 30.
IN vain the future snaps his fangs,
The tyke may rage – he canna wrangt’s,
I put my haund upon my sangs
Withoot a swither;
To me this monument belangs,
I need nae ither.
It’s no’ in granite to endoor,
Sandstane comes ripplin’ doon like stoor,
Marble – it canna stand the shoo’r,
It lasts nae time;
There’s naething yet has hauf the poo’r
O’ silly rhyme.
The pyramids hae tint their tale,
It’s lang sin’ they begoud to fail,
They’re either murlin’ doun to meal
While Homer at this hoor’s as hale
As e’er he stappit.
Sae I may say’t withoot a lee,
I dinna a’thegither dee;
Therefore forbear to greet for me
When I’m awa,
An’ keep a dry, a drouthie ee,
I chairge ye a’.
When at my door the hearse draws up
An’ Kate haunds roun’ the dirgy-cup,
Nae friend o’ mine will tak’ a sup
For that the less,
But calmly wi’ a steady grup
Cowp owre his gless.
The better part o’ me remains!
Whaur Allan Watter weets the plains,
An’ Devon, crystal but for rains,
Gangs wanderin’ wide,
Lang after me ye’ll hear my strains