Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/220



were twa brethren fell on strife; Sweet fruits are sair to gather: The tane has reft his brother of life; And the wind wears owre the heather.

There were twa brethren fell to fray; Sweet fruits are sair to gather: The tane is clad in a cloak of clay; And the wind wears owre the heather.

O loud and loud was the live man's cry, (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) 'Would God the dead and the slain were I!' And the wind wears owre the heather.