Page:Cherrie and the slae.pdf/24

 12 THE CHERRIE. XXII. The mair I wrestled with the wind, The faster still myself I find, Nae mirth my mind could ease ; Mair pain than I had never nane, I was sae alter'd and owergane, Through drought of my disease ; Yet weakly, as I might, I raise, My sight grew dim and dark, I stagger'd at the windlestraes, Nae token I was stark : Baith sightless and mightless, I grew almaist at ance ; In anguish, I languish, With many grievous granes. XXIII. With sober pace I did approach Hard to the river and the roche, Whereof I spake before : The river sic a murmur made, As to the sea it softly slade, The craig high, stay and shore : Then pleasure did me sae provoke, There partly to repair ; Betwixt the river and the rock, Where hope grew with despair : A tree then, I see then, Of cherries on the braes ; Below too, I saw too, A bush of bitter slaes.