Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/62

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Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow
Warm on the heart.

Yet all beneath th' unrivall'd Rose,
The lowly Daisy sweetly blows;
Tho' large the forest's Monarch throws
His army shade,
Yet green the juicy Hawthorn grows,
Adown the glade.

Then never murmur nor repine;
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
And trust me, not Potosi's mine,
Nor King's regard,
Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,
A rustic Bard.

To give my counsels all in one,
Thy tuneful flame still careful fan:
Preserve the dignity of Man
With soul erect,
And trust the universal Plan
Will all protect.

And wear thou this, the solemn said,
And bound the holly round my head:
The polish'd leaves, and berries red,
Did rustling play
And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.