The Braes of Yarrow (1820, Edinburgh)/The Forlorn Damsel
For other versions of this work, see The Forlorn Damsel.
THE FORLORN DAMSEL.
Ye gods of love that rule above,pity a maid that’s wounded By Cupid’s dart I feel the smart, and grief has me surrounded.
I sigh and moan since he is gone,who was my chiefest fancy,The other day he sail'd away,and parted from his Nancy.
May wot attend my cruel friends,that caus’d his transportationFor him I pine lament and whine,in woefu' desperation.
Through frightful dreams I often scream,and start out of my slumber,Then in amaze around I gaze,and of my dear I ponder.
I cannot blame my darling swain,though from me he is parted,His absence makes me live in pain,I’m always brokenhearted.
My parents they sent him away,to face his foes so cruelAll for to part from me my heart,my dear and only jewel.
My love is tall, comely withaland rarely put together,His person meek, his breath as sweet,as due in summer weather.
His carriage neat his limbs complete, and all his frame commodiousWhen he doth sing the woods do ringhis voice is so melodious.
O guardian angels be his guidedefend him from all harms,Let no hard fortune him betide,in any wars alarms.
Should he be slain on Boston plain,where cannons roar like thunder,Then death would ease me of my pain,and break my heart asunder.
Although my love has cross’d the main,’twas what he ne’er intended,I hope to see him once againwhere’er the war are ended.
When all my grief will turn to joy,when he is in my arms,Then I’ll invite my darling boy,and treat him with my charms.