The book of British ballads . Yet God hath given to me a mind,The which to thee shall prove as kindAs any one that thou shalt find,Of high or low degree. The shallowest water makes maist din,The deadest pool, the deepest linn;The richest man least truth within,Though he preferred be. Yet, nevertheless, I am content,And never a whit my love repent,But think the time was a weel spent,Though I disdained be. 0 ! Helen sweet, and maist complete,My captive spirits at thy feet!Thinks thou still fit thus for to treatThy captive cruelly ? O ! Helen brave ! but this I crave,Of thy poor slave some pity h
The book of British ballads . Yet God hath given to me a mind,The which to thee shall prove as kindAs any one that thou shalt find,Of high or low degree. The shallowest water makes maist din,The deadest pool, the deepest linn;The richest man least truth within,Though he preferred be. Yet, nevertheless, I am content,And never a whit my love repent,But think the time was a weel spent,Though I disdained be. 0 ! Helen sweet, and maist complete,My captive spirits at thy feet!Thinks thou still fit thus for to treatThy captive cruelly ? O ! Helen brave ! but this I crave,Of thy poor slave some pity have,And do him save thats near his grave,And dies for love of thee. PART SECOND. I wish I were where Helen lies,Night and day on me she cries ;O that I were where Helen lies,On fair Kirconnell Lee! Curst be the heart that thought the thought,And curst the hand that fired the shot,When in my arms burd Helen dropt,And died to succour me ! O think na ye my heart was sair, [mair !When my love dropt down and spak naeThere did she
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow
