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Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.

Sir Walter Scott. 1771–1832

546. The Rover’s Adieu

A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid, 
  A weary lot is thine! 
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, 
  And press the rue for wine. 
A lightsome eye, a soldier’s mien,         5
  A feather of the blue, 
A doublet of the Lincoln green— 
  No more of me ye knew, 
        My Love! 
No more of me ye knew.  10
‘This morn is merry June, I trow, 
  The rose is budding fain; 
But she shall bloom in winter snow 
  Ere we two meet again.’ 
—He turn’d his charger as he spake  15
  Upon the river shore, 
He gave the bridle-reins a shake, 
  Said ‘Adieu for evermore, 
        My Love! 
And adieu for evermore.’  20