The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Behold the hour
For other versions of this work, see Behold the hour.
BEHOLD THE HOUR.
TUNE—'ORAN GAOIL.'
Behold the hour, the boat arrive!
Thou goest, thou darling of my heart:
Sever'd from thee can I survive?
But fate has will'd, and we must part!
I'll often greet this surging swell;
Yon distant isle will often hail:
'E'en here I took the last farewell;
There latest mark'd her vanish'd sail.'
Thou goest, thou darling of my heart:
Sever'd from thee can I survive?
But fate has will'd, and we must part!
I'll often greet this surging swell;
Yon distant isle will often hail:
'E'en here I took the last farewell;
There latest mark'd her vanish'd sail.'
Along the solitary shore,
While flitting sea-fowls round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wistful eye;
'Happy, thou Indian grove,' I'll say,
'Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me?'
While flitting sea-fowls round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wistful eye;
'Happy, thou Indian grove,' I'll say,
'Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me?'