O'er eyes so fair.
ABRU.
[II.]
Thou, Sorrow, wilt keep and wilt cherish the memory of me
Long after my death,
For thou dwelt at my heart, and my blood nourished thee,
Thou wert warmed by my breath.
My heart has disgraced me by clamour and wailing for years
And tossing in pain,
Mine eyes lost their honour by shedding these torrents of tears