 | The poetical remains |  |
145
Mary Gray.
Once William swore the sacred oath,
That of my love he'd never weary,
And I gave him my virgin troth;
But now he's turned awa' frae Mary.
I thought his heart was linked to mine
So firm that it could never stray;
Yet, William, may that peace be thine
Which thou hast ta'en frae Mary Gray.
That of my love he'd never weary,
And I gave him my virgin troth;
But now he's turned awa' frae Mary.
I thought his heart was linked to mine
So firm that it could never stray;
Yet, William, may that peace be thine
Which thou hast ta'en frae Mary Gray.
146
I once was happy in his love;
No gloomy prospect made me dreary;
I thought that he would never rove,
But aye be faithfu' to his Mary.
Bright on me shone sweet pleasure's sun;
I sported in its gladdening ray;
But now the evening shades are come,
And soon will close round Mary Gray.
No gloomy prospect made me dreary;
I thought that he would never rove,
But aye be faithfu' to his Mary.
Bright on me shone sweet pleasure's sun;
I sported in its gladdening ray;
But now the evening shades are come,
And soon will close round Mary Gray.
Yet, William, may no gloomy thought
Of my love ever make thee dreary;
I've suffered much, 'twas dearly bought;
Peace now has fled frae wretched Mary.
And when some maid, more loved than me,
Thou lead'st to church on bridal day,
Perhaps the lowly grave you'll see
Of poor, neglected Mary Gray.
Of my love ever make thee dreary;
I've suffered much, 'twas dearly bought;
Peace now has fled frae wretched Mary.
And when some maid, more loved than me,
Thou lead'st to church on bridal day,
Perhaps the lowly grave you'll see
Of poor, neglected Mary Gray.
| The poetical remains | |