430. Eleu Loro

Sir Walter Scott (1771—1832)

  WHERE shall the lover rest

  Whom the fates sever

  From his true maiden’s breast

  Parted for ever?

  Where, through groves deep and high

  Sounds the far billow,

  Where early violets die

  Under the willow.

  Eleu loro

  Soft shall be his pillow.

  There through the summer day

  Cool streams are laving:

  There, while the tempests sway,

  Scarce are boughs waving;

  There thy rest shalt thou take,

  Parted for ever,

  Never again to wake

  Never, O never!

  Eleu loro

  Never, O never!

  Where shall the traitor rest,

  He, the deceiver,

  Who could win maiden’s breast,

  Ruin, and leave her?

  In the lost battle,

  Borne down by the flying,

  Where mingles war’s rattle

  With groans of the dying;

  Eleu loro

  There shall he be lying.

  Her wing shall the eagle flap

  O’er the falsehearted;

  His warm blood the wolf shall lap

  Ere life be parted.

  Shame and dishonour sit

  By his grave ever;

  Blessing shall hallow it

  Never, O never!

  Eleu loro

  Never, O never!