Lord Gregory

O mirk, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest’s roar, -
A waefu' wand'rer seeks thy tower,
Lord Gregory ope thy door,-

An exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for sake o' thee,
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may na be.

Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove
By bonie Irwine side,
Where first I own'd that virgin love
I lang, lang had denied. -

How aften didst thou pledge & vow.
Thou wad for ay be mine!
And my fond heart, itsel sae-true;
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 must'ring thunders from above
Your willing victim see:
But spare & pardon my fause Love
His [page torn] Heaven & me!