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An early poem by Robert Burns. Scholars are divided over the identity of the young lady in question, with three possible contenders being suggested.
“From thee, Eliza, I must go, And from my native shore;
The cruel fates between us throw A boundless ocean's roar:
But boundless oceans, roaring wide, Between my love and me,
They never, never can divide My heart and soul from thee.
Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, The maid that I adore!
A boding voice is in mine ear, We part to meet no more!
But the latest throb that leaves my heart, While Death stands victor by, -
That throb, Eliza, is thy part, And thine that latest sigh!”