Verse > Anthologies > William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. > The Book of Georgian Verse
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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed.  The Book of Georgian Verse.  1909.
 
Bothwell Bank
By John Pinkerton (1758–1826)
 
ON the blithe Beltane, as I went
By mysel’ out o’er the green bent,
Whereby the crystal waves of Clyde
Through saughs and hanging hazels glide,
There, sadly sitting on a brae,        5
I heard a damsel speak her wae.
 
‘O Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair,
But ah! thou mak’st my heart fu’ sair!
For a’ beneath thy holts sae green
My love and I wad sit at e’en,        10
While primroses and daisies, mixed
Wi’ blue-bells, in my locks he fixed.
 
‘But he left me ae dreary day,
And haply now sleeps in the clay,
Without ae sigh his death to rune,        15
Without ae flower his grave to croun.
O Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair,
But ah! thou mak’st my heart fu’ sair.’
 
 
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