"O weel is me for the sign I take"
(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)
"That now I may die for my auld sin's sake."
And the wind wears owre the heather.
"For the dead was in wait now fifty year,".
(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)
"And now I shall die for his blood's sake here,"
And the wind wears owre the heather.
——A. C. Swinburne.