Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/622

 ROBERT BURNS

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luvc 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 5 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.

��5-rc? Lament -for Culloden

^HE 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 'Drumossic moor, Drumossic day,

A wacfu' 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 sec ;

And by them lies the dearest lad That ever blest a woman's e'e'

Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,

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