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.