When angels stoop to soothe their woe,
He gazed, till fond regret and pride
Thrill’d to a tear, then thus replied:
“Loveliest and best! thou little know’st
The rank, the honors, thou hast lost!
Oh, might I live to see thee grace,
In Scotland’s court, thy birthright place,
To see my favorite’s step advance,
The lightest in the courtly dance,
The cause of every gallant’s sigh,