The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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Here, fix'd by choice.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
Here, fix'd by choice.
Here, fix'd by choice, too long I staid
Beside the lovely Flora;
Too fond to see the charming maid,
The cause of all my sorrow.
The rising sun each morning saw
My passion fast augmenting,
Till she with Campbell cross'd the main,
And left her love lamenting.
Beside the lovely Flora;
Too fond to see the charming maid,
The cause of all my sorrow.
The rising sun each morning saw
My passion fast augmenting,
Till she with Campbell cross'd the main,
And left her love lamenting.
No curses on her head I'll crave;
My blessing still attend her;
Whene'er I offer up my vows,
My dear I'll aye remember.
Though mountains rise, and rivers roll,
And oceans rage between us,
If death me spare, I'll search for her
Through all the Carolinas.
My blessing still attend her;
Whene'er I offer up my vows,
My dear I'll aye remember.
Though mountains rise, and rivers roll,
And oceans rage between us,
If death me spare, I'll search for her
Through all the Carolinas.
Nor absence, time, nor balmy rest,
Nor grief, nor tears, can ease me;
I feel the time approaching fast
When a clay-cold bed will please me.
Then rest my head upon yon hill,
Where blows the blooming heather;
There first at Flora's feet I fell;
There oft we sat together.
Nor grief, nor tears, can ease me;
I feel the time approaching fast
When a clay-cold bed will please me.
Then rest my head upon yon hill,
Where blows the blooming heather;
There first at Flora's feet I fell;
There oft we sat together.
How happy would my charmer seem!
How sorry when I left her!
I would not then have chang'd my seat
With him that sway'd the sceptre.
My prospect glow'd with fairest flowers,
From bliss no bounds to bar me;
Now dismal shades and dreary shores
With rueful murmurs scare me.
How sorry when I left her!
I would not then have chang'd my seat
With him that sway'd the sceptre.
My prospect glow'd with fairest flowers,
From bliss no bounds to bar me;
Now dismal shades and dreary shores
With rueful murmurs scare me.
There was a time no more I'll see,
I spent in mirth and ranging;
There was a time when I was gay,
But times are always changing.
The times shall change, and moons shall wane,
Yet I in love still languish;
My tender heart must break in twain,
Since nought can ease mine anguish.
I spent in mirth and ranging;
There was a time when I was gay,
But times are always changing.
The times shall change, and moons shall wane,
Yet I in love still languish;
My tender heart must break in twain,
Since nought can ease mine anguish.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |