And after these, with hand in hand, the
Sisters Troil appear;
Poor “Mina’s” cheek
was deadly pale, in “Brenda’s” eye
a tear;
And “Norna,” in a sable vest,
sang wild a funeral cry,
And waved aloft a bough of yew, in solemn
mystery.
“George Heriot” crap’d,
and “Jenkin Vin” with prentice-cap in hand—
Ev’en “Lady Palla” left
her shrine to join that funeral band;
But hood and veil conceal’d her
form—yet, hark! in whisper’s tone
She breathes a Christian’s holy
prayer for the mighty spirit flown.
A wail!—a hollow, churchyard
wail!—a wild weird-sister’s cry!—
Ah! “Annie Winnie,” thou
too here?—and “Alice?”—vanish—fly!
“Not so,” they shrieked, “we’ll
see the corse—the bonny corse;
’twas
meet—
And pity ’twas we were not there
to bind his winding sheet.”
Old “Owen” passed with tottering
step, and lost and wandering looks;
“He’s balanced his account,”
he cried, “and closed his earthly books;”
Bold “Loxley,” with his bow
unbent—unhelm’d “Le Belafre,”
Together pass’d—the archer
wiped one silent tear away.
Stern “Bridgenorth,” with
his daughter’s arm hung on his own, stalk’d
by;
The blushing “Alice” veils
her face from “Julian Peveril’s”
eye:
“Alack-a-day,” ‘Daft
Davie’ cries—“come, follow,
follow me,
We’ll strew his grave with cowslip
buds and blooming rosemary.”
In distance from the mournful throng,
like stars of other spheres,
The lovely “Mary Stuart” pays
the homage of her tears,
With “Cath’rine Seymore”
at the shrine of Scotia’s dearest name,
And with her bends the “Douglas’”
knees, with bold young “Roland Graeme.”
But hark! what fairy melody comes wafted
on the gale—
Oh! ’tis “Fenella’s”
sighing lute, in notes of woe and wail:
“Claud Halero” catches at
the strain, and mourns the minstrel gone,
“His spirit rest in peace where
sleeps the shade of glorious John!”
With spattered cloak, the ladies’
knight, the gallant “Rawleigh” see,
“Sir Creveceux’s” plume
waves by his side, and “Durward’s”
fleur-de-lis;
There “Janet” leans on “Foster’s”
arm—e’en “Varney’s”
treacherous eye
Is moistened with a tear that speaks remorse’s
agony.
Next, muffled in his sable cloak, “Tressilian”
wends his way,
His slouching hat denies his brow the
cheering light of day;
See how he dogs the proud earl’s
steps, as “Leicester” bears along
The lovely “Amy” on his arm
through that sad mournful throng.
There “Lillias” pass’d
with fairy step, in hood and mantle green,
Her sire, “Redgauntlet’s”
eagle eye is fixed on her, I ween;
And “Wandering Willie” doffs
his cap, to raise his sightless eye
To Heaven, and cried, “God rest
his soul in yonder sunny sky!”
Here “Donald Lean,” with fillibeg
and tartan-skirted knee;
There pale was “Cleveland,”
as he slept by Stromness’ howling sea;
With faltering step crept “Trapbois”
by, with drooping palsied head,
More like a charnel truant stray’d
from regions of the dead.