O mirk, mirkis this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest’s roar;
A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower,
Lord Gregory, ope thy door.
Anexile fraeher father’s ha’,
And a’for loving thee;
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may nabe.
Lord Gregory, mind’st thou not the grove
BybonieIrwine side,
Where first I own’d that virgin love
I lang, langhad denied.
How aftendidst thou pledge and vow
Thou wadfor aye be mine!
And my fond heart, itsel’saetrue,
It ne’er mistrusted thine.
Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast:
Thou bolt of Heaven that flashest by,
O, wilt thou bring me rest!
Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see;
Butspare and pardon my fauseLove,
His wrangs to Heaven and me.