“ Sure there not such a token in the whole human race.
She wander'd thro' England, to Scotland she came,
You true lover's controllers you see what's their doom,
The shepherd's no more and her father soon dy'd,
For the loss of his daughter and the murder beside.
If I would return to my father's bright hall,
I might live in splendour but that I ne'er will,
She says I will wander till death end the strife,
Lamenting for my shepherd all the days of my life. ”

“ If Corin went forth mid the tempest and rain,
Tray scorn'd to be left in the chimney behind.
At length in the straw Tray made his last bed,
For vain against death is the stoutest endeavour,
Ta lick Corin's hand he rear'd up his week head,
Then fell back clos'd his eyes, and ah! clos'd them for ever. ”

“ How often we brood over misery madly,
⁠Till we murder the hope that was sent to inspire,
And pleasure grown old and decrupit turns sadly,
⁠To shake his grey locks o'er the tomb of his sire.
Cherish hope! and tho' life by affliction be shaded,
⁠Still his ray shall shine lovely, and gild the scene o'er
Like the dew-drop that glisters the leaves when they're fade ”