A Fragment, which was meant for the beginning of an Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of Monboddo—-

LIFE ne'er exulted in so rich a prize,
As Burnet lovely from her native skies;
Nor envious Death 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 jewel set!
In thee, what Heaven above, was truest shown,
For 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 chant your idle loves,
Ye cease to charm, Eliza is no more.--------

Ye heathy 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 cumbrous 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‘st 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, rusely ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare.--------