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From: Great Works of Literature
Date: 19920101
Author:Burns, Robert
00-00-0000
Part XLIII
The Last Time I Came O'er The Moor
The last time I came o'er the moor, And left Maria's dwelling, What throes, what tortures passing cure, Were in my bosom swelling: Condemn'd to see my rival's reign, While I in secret languish; To feel a fire in every vein, Yet dare not speak my anguish.
Love's veriest wretch, despairing, I Fain, fain, my crime would cover; Th' unweeting groan, the bursting sigh, Betray the guilty lover. I know my doom must be despair, Thou wilt nor canst relieve me; But oh, Maria, hear my prayer, For Pity's sake forgive me!
The music of thy ...
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