Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/601

 As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve, And fare thee weel a while! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

504. Lament for Culloden

The lovely lass o' Inverness, Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For e'en and morn she cries, 'Alas!' And aye the saut tear blin's her e'e: 'Drumossie moor, Drumossie day, A waefu' day it was to me! For there I lost my father dear, My father dear and brethren three.

'Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay, Their graves are growing green to see; And by them lies the dearest lad That ever blest a woman's e'e! Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, A bluidy man I trow thou be; For monie a heart thou hast made sair, That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee.'