The banks of Spey

Talk not of love, it gives me pain,

For love has been my foe;

He bound me with an iron chain,

And plung'd me deep in woe.

But friendship's pure and lasting joys,

My heart was form'd to prove;

There, welcome win and wear the prize,

But never talk of love.

Your friendship much can make me blest,

Oh, why that bliss destroy?

Why urge the only, one request

You know I will deny;

Your thought, if love must harbour there,

Conceal it in that thought,

Nor cause me from my bosom tear

The only friend I sought.