with critical observations and biographical notices, by Robert Burns

But ah !
65
Miranda, without thee.
Nor spring nor summer smiles on me,
All lonely in the secret shade,
I mourn thy absence, charming maid I
author of the Shipwreck, that glorious Poem, is no more. After
weathering that dreadful catastrophe he so feelingly describes in
his Poem, and after weathering many hard gales of fortune, he
went to the bottom with the Aurora frigate! I forget what
part of Scotland had the honor of giving him birth j but he was
the son of obscurity and misfortune. He was one of those
daring adventurous spirits which old Caledonia, beyond any
other nation, is remarkable for producing. Little does the fond
mother think, as she hangs delighted over the sweet little leech
at her bosom, where the poor fellow may hereafter wander, and
what may be his fate. I remember a stanza in an old Scots
ballad which, notwithstanding its rude simplicity, speaks feel-
ingly to the heart-
Little did my mother think.
That day she cradled me,
What land I was to travel in,
Or what death I should die
In addition to these remarks it will be proper to add, that
William Falconer was born in Edinburgh about the year 1730,
where his father was a barber. William, at a very early age,
went on board a Leith merchantman, in which he served an ap-
prenticeship. In 1769 we find him purser of the Aurora frigate.
This vessel sailed for India, the same year, and was never more
VOL. II, F
heard