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Walter Scott - The Lay of Poor Louise
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Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day
She roams from cot to castle gay;
And still her voice and viol say,
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way,
              Think on Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high,
It smirch`d her cheek, it dimm`d her eye,
The woodland walk was cool and nigh,
Where birds with chiming streamlets vie
              To cheer Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear
Made ne`er that lovely grove his lair;
The wolves molest not paths so fair—
But better far had such been there
              For poor Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold
She met a huntsman fair and bold;
His baldric was of silk and gold,
And many a witching tale he told
              To poor Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine
Hadst thou for treasures of the mine;
For peace of mind that gift divine,
And spotless innocence, were thine, 
              Ah, poor Louise!

Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure`s reft!
I know not if by force or theft,
Or part by violence, part by gift; 
But misery is all that`s left
              To poor Louise.

Let poor Louise some succour have!
She will not long your bounty crave,
Or tire the gay with warning stave—
For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave,
              Poor poor Louise.
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