Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/538

 WILLIAM WALSH 440 Rivals

OF all the torments, all the cares, With which our lives are curst; Of all the plagues a lover bears,

Sure rivals are the worst' By partners in each other kind

Afflictions easier grow; In love alone we hate to find Companions of our woe.

Sylvia, for all the pangs you see

Are labouring in my breast, I beg not you would favour me,

Would you but slight the rest' How great soe'er your rigours are,

With them alone I'll cope; I can endure my own despair,

But not another's hope.

��LADY GRISEL BAILLIE 441 Werena my Heart licht I wad dee

THERE ance was a may, and she lo'ed na men; She biggit her bonnic bow'r doun in yon glen; But now she cries, Dool and a well-a-day' Come doun the green gait and come here away'

441 may] maid. biggit] built. g"ait] way, path.

�� �