Explore "The Last Time I Came o'Er the Moor" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The last time I came o'er the moor, / And left Maria's dwelling, / What throes, what tortures passing cure, / Were in my bosom swelling: / Condemn'd to see my rival's reign, / While I in secret languish; / To feel a fire in every vein, / Yet dare not speak my anguish.
Love's veriest wretch, despairing, I / Fain, fain, my crime would cover; / Th' unweeting groan, the bursting sigh, / Betray the guilty lover. / I know my doom must be despair, / Thou wilt nor canst relieve me; / But oh, Maria, hear my prayer, / For Pity's sake forgive me!
The music of thy tongue I heard, / Nor wist while it enslav'd me; / I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd, / Till fear no more had sav'd me: / The unwary sailor thus, aghast, / The wheeling torrent viewing, / 'Mid circling horrors yields at last / To overwhelming ruin.