Poem by Walter Scott

* * *

Where shall the lover rest
Whom the fates sever
From the true maiden's breast,
Parted for ever?--
Where, through groves deep and high,
Sounds the fair billow,
Where early violets die,
Under the willow.

Chorus.

Soft shall be his pillow.

There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving;
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving;
There, thy rest shall thou take,
Parted for ever,
Never again to wake,
Never, O never!

Chorus.

Never, O never!

Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden's breast,
Ruin and leave her?--
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying.,P>

Chorus.

There shall he be lying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the false hearted,
His warm blood the wolf shall lap,
Ere life be parted,
Shame and dishonor sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it,--
Never, O never!

Chorus

Never, O never! 

1. The Monks of Bangor’s March
2. On Ettrick Forest’s Mountains Dun
3. Lines Addressed to Ranald Macdonald, Esq., of Staffa
4. The Sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill
5. The Maid of Isla

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