Where Shall the Lover Rest - by Sir Walter Scott

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!

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