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Walter Scott - Verses Found in Bothwell`s Pocket-book
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Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright   
As in that well-remember`d night   
When first thy mystic braid was wove,   
And first my Agnes whisper`d love.   
   
Since then how often hast thou prest
The torrid zone of this wild breast,   
Whose wrath and hate have sworn to dwell   
With the first sin that peopled hell;   
A breast whose blood`s a troubled ocean,   
Each throb the earthquake`s wild commotion!
Oh if such clime thou canst endure   
Yet keep thy hue unstain`d and pure,   
What conquest o`er each erring thought   
Of that fierce realm had Agnes wrought!   
I had not wander`d far and wide 
With such an angel for my guide;   
Nor heaven nor earth could then reprove me   
If she had lived, and lived to love me.   
   
Not then this world`s wild joys had been   
To me one savage hunting scene, 
My sole delight the headlong race   
And frantic hurry of the chase;   
To start, pursue, and bring to bay,   
Rush in, drag down, and rend my prey,   
Then—from the carcass turn away! 
Mine ireful mood had sweetness tamed,   
And soothed each wound which pride inflamed:-—   
Yes, God and man might now approve me   
If thou hadst lived, and lived to love me!
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