Previous work:

Lord Gregory


O mirk, mirk is this midnight hour, And loud the tempest's roar: A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower, Lord Gregory ope thy door. An exile frae her father's ha', And a' for loving thee; At least some pity on me shae, If love it may na be. Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove, By bonie Irwine-side, Where first I own'd that virgin-love I lang, lang had denied. How aften didst thou pledge and vow, Thou wad for ay be mine; And my fond heart, itsel sae true, It ne'er mistrusted thine. Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory, And flinty is thy breast: Thou dart of Heaven that flashest by, O wilt thou give me rest! Ye mustering thunders from above Your willing victim see! But spare, and pardon my fause Love, His wrangs to Heaven and me!

Listen

Laura Fraser

About this work

This is a song by Robert Burns. It was written in 1793 and is read here by Laura Fraser.

Themes for this song

anguish class love

Skip to top

BBC © 2014 The BBC is not responsible for the content of external sites. Read more.

This page is best viewed in an up-to-date web browser with style sheets (CSS) enabled. While you will be able to view the content of this page in your current browser, you will not be able to get the full visual experience. Please consider upgrading your browser software or enabling style sheets (CSS) if you are able to do so.