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This kerchief he gave me, a true lover's                         token, Dear, dear to me, was the gift for his sake! I wear't near my heart, but this poor heart is broken; Hope died wi' Jamie, and left it to break. Sighing for him, I lie down in the evening, Sighing for him, I awake in the morn; Spent are my days a' in secret repining, Peace to this bosom can never return.

Oft have we wander'd in sweetest retire- ment, Telling our loves 'neath the moon's silent beams; Sweet were our meetings of tender endear- ment, But fied are those joys like a fleet passing dream. Cruel remembrance, oh! why wilt thou wreck me, Brooding o'er joys that for ever are flown, Cruel remembrance, in pity forsake me, Flee to some bosom where grief is un- known.