* * * * *
CCLVIII.
FORLORN, MY LOVE, NO COMFORT
NEAR.
Tune--"_Let me in this ae night._"
["How do you like the foregoing?" Burns asks Thomson, after having
copies this song for his collection. "I have written it within this
hour: so much for the speed of my Pegasus: but what say you to his
bottom?"]
I.
Forlorn, my love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe
At which I most repine, love.
O wert thou, love, but near me;
But near, near, near me;
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, love
II.
Around me scowls a wintry sky,
That blasts each bud of hope and joy;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
Save in those arms of thine, love.
III.
Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
To poison Fortune's ruthless dart,
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, love.
IV.
But dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet!
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, love.
O wert thou, love, but near me;
But near, near, near me;
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, love.
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