his sadplaining dowie raves:—
“i wha sae late did range and rove,
and chang'd with every moon my love,
i little thought the time was near,
repentance i should buy sae dear.
“the slighted maids my torments see,
and laugh at a' the pangs i dree;
while she, my cruel, scornful fair,
forbids me e'er to see her mair.”