Robert Burns

From Thee, Eliza

From thee, Eliza, I  must go
     And from my native shore:
The cruel fates between us throw
     A boundless ocean’s war;
But boundless oceans, roaring wide
     Between my love and me,
They never, never can divide
     My heart and soul from thee.

Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear,
     The maid that I adore!
A boding voice is in mine ear,
     We part to meet no more!
But the latest throb that leaves my heart,
     While Death stands victor by,
That throb, Eliza, is thy part,
     And thine that latest sigh!