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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Oh, Love's a bitter thing to bide.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
Oh, Love's a bitter thing to bide.
Oh, love's a bitter thing to bide,
The lad that drees it's to be pitied;
It blinds to a' the world beside,
And maks a body dilde and ditted.
It lies sae sair at my breast bane,
My heart is melting saft an' safter;
To dee outright I wad be fain,
Wer't no for fear what may be after.
The lad that drees it's to be pitied;
It blinds to a' the world beside,
And maks a body dilde and ditted.
It lies sae sair at my breast bane,
My heart is melting saft an' safter;
To dee outright I wad be fain,
Wer't no for fear what may be after.
I dinna ken what course to steer,
I'm sae to dool an' daftness driven;
For ane sae lovely, sweet, an' dear,
Sure never breath'd the breeze o' heaven.
Oh there's a soul beams in her e'e;
Ae blink o't makes ane's spirit gladder;
And ay the mair she gecks at me,
It pits me aye in love the madder.
I'm sae to dool an' daftness driven;
For ane sae lovely, sweet, an' dear,
Sure never breath'd the breeze o' heaven.
Oh there's a soul beams in her e'e;
Ae blink o't makes ane's spirit gladder;
And ay the mair she gecks at me,
It pits me aye in love the madder.
Love winna heal, it winna thole,
You canna shun't e'en when you fear it;
An' oh, this sickness o' the soul,
'Tis past the power of man to bear it!
And yet to mak o' her a wife,
I couldna square it wi' my duty;
I'd like to see her a' her life
Remain a virgin in her beauty,
You canna shun't e'en when you fear it;
An' oh, this sickness o' the soul,
'Tis past the power of man to bear it!
And yet to mak o' her a wife,
I couldna square it wi' my duty;
I'd like to see her a' her life
Remain a virgin in her beauty,
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As pure, as bonnie as she's now,
The walks of human life adorning;
As blithe as bird upon the bough,
As sweet as breeze of summer morning.
Love paints the earth, it paints the sky,
An' tints each lovely hue of Nature,
And makes to the enchanted eye
An angel of a mortal creature.
The walks of human life adorning;
As blithe as bird upon the bough,
As sweet as breeze of summer morning.
Love paints the earth, it paints the sky,
An' tints each lovely hue of Nature,
And makes to the enchanted eye
An angel of a mortal creature.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |