Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that aye be your border.
To step aside is human.
'T is sweeter for thee despairing Than aught in the world beside,-Jessy!
The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
Misled by fancy's meteor ray, By passion driven; But yet the light that led astray Was light from heaven.