Chapter 110 of 1414 · 41 words · ~1 min read

VI.

The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love, Luxuriantly indulge it; But never tempt th' illicit rove, Tho' naething should divulge it: I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing; But, och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!