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Elegy On The Late Miss Burnet Of Monboddo

  Elegy Oe Miss Bur Of Monboddo</p>

  Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize,</p>

  As Bur, lovely from her native skies;</p>

  Nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow,</p>

  As that which id th' aplish'd Bur low.</p>

  Thy form and mind, sweet maid, I fet?</p>

  In richest ore the brightest jewel set!</p>

  In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown,</p>

  As by His work the Godhead best is known.</p>

  In vain ye funt in summer's pride, ye groves;</p>

  Thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore,</p>

  Ye woodnd choir that t your idle loves,</p>

  Ye cease to charm; Eliza is no more.</p>

  Ye healthy wastes, immix'd with reedy fens;</p>

  Ye mossy streams, with sedge and rushes stor'd:</p>

  Ye rugged cliffs, ing dreary glens,</p>

  To you I fly—ye with my soul accord.</p>

  Princes, whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth,</p>

  Shall venal ys their pompous exit hail,</p>

  And thou, sweet Excellence! forsake our earth,</p>

  And not a Muse with ho grief bewail?</p>

  We saw thee shine in youth ay's pride,</p>

  And Virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres;</p>

  But, like the sun eclips'd at m tide,</p>

  Thou left us darkling in a world of tears.</p>

  The parent's heart that led fond in thee,</p>

  That heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care;</p>

  So deckt the woodbine sweet yoree;</p>

  So, from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare.</p>

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