The Coquette

I hae nae sleep, I hae nae rest,
My Ellen's lost for aye,
My heart is sair and much distressed,
I surely soon must die.

I canna think o' wark at a',
My eyes still wander far,
I see her neck like driven snow,
I see her flaxen hair.

Sair, sair, I begged she would na' hear,
She proudly turned awa',
Unmoved she saw the trickling tear,
Which, spite o' me, would fa'.

She acted weel a conqueror's part,
She triumphed in my woe,
She gracefu' waved me to depart,
I tried, but could na' go.

"Ah why," (distractedly I cried,)
"Why yield me to despair?
Bid ling'ring Hope resume her sway,
To ease my heart sae sair."

She scornfu' smiled, and bade me go!
This roused my dormant pride;
I craved nae boon — I took nae luke,
"Adieu!" I proudly cried.

I fled! nor Ellen hae I seen,
Sin' that too fatal day:
My "bosom's laird" sits heavy here,
And Hope's fled far away.

Care, darkly brooding, bodes a storm,
I'm Sorrow's child indeed;
She stamps her image on my form,
I wear the mourning weed!