Alas! alas! fair Ines! she went away with song,
With music waiting on her steps, and shoutings of the throng;
But some were sad, and felt no mirth, but only Music's wrong,
In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell to her you've loved so long.
Farewell, farewell, fair Ines! that vessel never bore
So fair a lady on its deck, nor danced so light before—
Alas for pleasure on the sea, and sorrow on the shore!
The smile that blest one lover's heart has broken many more!
THOMAS HOOD.
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu' o' care?
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons through the flowering thorn; Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed—never to return.
Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wistna o' my fate.
Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And, fondly, sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pou'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause luver stole my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
ROBERT BURNS.