CCLVIII.
Reading edition
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.