Home  »  English Poetry II  »  432. The Rover

English Poetry II: From Collins to Fitzgerald.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Sir Walter Scott

432. The Rover

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

A feather of the blue,

A doublet of the Lincoln green—

No more of me you knew

My Love!

No more of me you knew.

‘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

Upon the river shore,

He gave the bridle-reins a shake,

Said ‘Adieu for evermore

My Love!

And adieu for evermore.’