I met wi' her I luved yestreen, I met her wi' a look o' sorrow; My leave I took o' her for aye, A weddit bride she'll be the morrow She durst na gie ae smile to me, Nor drap ae word o' kindly feelin', Yet down her cheeks the bitter tears, In monie a pearly bead, were stealin'. I could na my lost luve upbraid, Altho' my dearest hopes were blighted, I could na say ''" 'ye're fause to me !' ''" Tho' to anither she was plighted. Like suthfast friens whom death divides, In Heaven to meet, we silent parted ; Nac voice had we our griefs to speak, We felt sac lone and broken-hearted. I'll hie me frae my native Ian', Far frae thy blythesome banks o' Yarrow! Wae's me, I canna bide to see .My winsome luve anither's marrow! I'll hie me to a distant Ian', Wi' down-cast ee and life-sick bosom, A wearie waste the warld's to me, Sin' I hac lost that bonnie blossom! |