Robert Burns - Elegy On The Late Miss Burnet Of Monboddo lyrics

Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize, As Burnet, lovely from her native skies; Nor envious d**h so triumph'd in a blow, As that which laid th' accomplish'd Burnet low. Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? In richest ore the brightest j**el set! In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, As by His noblest work the Godhead best is known. In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, ye groves; Thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore, Ye woodland choir that chaunt your idle loves, Ye cease to charm; Eliza is no more. Ye healthy wastes, immix'd with reedy fens; Ye mossy streams, with sedge and rushes stor'd: Ye rugged cliffs, o'erhanging dreary glens, To you I fly—ye with my soul accord. Princes, whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth, Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail, And thou, sweet Excellence! forsake our earth, And not a Muse with honest grief bewail? We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, And Virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres; But, like the sun eclips'd at morning tide, Thou left us darkling in a world of tears. The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, That heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care; So deckt the woodbine sweet yon aged tree; So, from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare.