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432. Song—Behold the hour etc. (Second Version)

 BEHOLD the hour, the boat arrive;
 Thou goest, the darling of my heart;
Sever’d from thee, can I survive,
 But Fate has will’d and we must part.
I’ll often greet the surging swell, Yon distant Isle will often hail: “E’en here I took the last farewell; There, latest mark’d her vanish’d sail.
” Along the solitary shore, While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, Across the rolling, dashing roar, I’ll westward turn my wistful eye: “Happy thou Indian grove,” I’ll say, “Where now my Nancy’s path may be! While thro’ thy sweets she loves to stray, O tell me, does she muse on me!”

Poem by Robert Burns
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