This text comes from The Book of Scottish Song, edited by Alexander Whitelaw, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts among,
Yet sweeter were the tender notes of Isabella's song!
So soft into the ear they steal, so soft into the soul,
The deep'ning pain of love they soothe, and sorrow's pang control.
I look'd upon the pure brook that murmur'd through the glade,
And mingled in the melody that Isabella made;
Yet purer was the residence of Isabella's heart!
Above the reach of pride and guile, above the reach of art.
I look'd upon the azure of the deep unclouded sky,
Yet clearer was the blue serene of Isabella's eye!
Ne'er softer fell the rain drop of the first relenting year,
Than falls from Isabella's eye the pity-melted tear.
All this my fancy prompted, ere a sigh of sorrow prov'd
How hopelessly, yet faithfully, and tenderly I lov'd!
Yet though bereft of hope I love, still will I love the more,
As distance binds the exile's heart to his dear native shore.