Or noble “Elgin” feeds the heav’n-ward flame,

The sweetest far of Scotia’s holy lays:

Compared with these, Italian trills are tame;

The tickl’d ear no heart-felt raptures raise;

Nae unison hae they with our Creator’s praise.

Burns.

There is no gloom on earth, for God above

Chastens in love;

Transmuting sorrow into golden joy,

Free from alloy.