The Scott

to the gate, si

that has r

e fragra

g to a va

to me m

night a hon

re the wi

lover lea

t's all

I to do with

put in hiding

n my way to

my-Ah! last nig

must not

the

was

whose lover th

w him until

o my soul. I

life my lover

into an inn I

rough a wind

ur'd with thi

last night wit

worn it. Why s

t in love? For

how to love,

wn to death. B

mine, and arm

s with its dear w

ve! O me, ho

as numb as th

idst thou forge

ody and soul?

not gone

olk a

the light with a