Elegy On The Late Miss Burnet Of Monboddo
elegy oe miss bur of monboddo
life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize,
as bur, lovely from her native skies;
nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow,
as that which id th' aplish'd bur low.
thy form and mind, sweet maid, i fet?
in richest ore the brightest jewel set!
in thee, high heaven above was truest shown,
as by his work the godhead best is known.
in vain ye funt in summer's pride, ye groves;
thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore,
ye woodnd choir that t your idle loves,
ye cease to charm; eliza is no more.
ye healthy wast
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