“O maiden, why waxed thy faith so faint,
      Thy spirit so slack and slaw? 
   Thy courage kept good till the flame waxed wud,
      Then thy might begun to thaw;
   Had ye kissed him with thy christened lip,
      Ye had wan him frae ‘mang us a’. 
   Now bless the fire, the elfin fire,
      That made thee faint and fa’;
   Now bless the fire, the elfin fire,
   The longer it burns it blazes the higher.”

“At the close of this unusual strain, the figure sat down on the grass, and proceeded to bind up her long and disordered tresses, gazing along the old and unfrequented road.  ‘Now God be my helper,’ said the traveller, who happened to be the laird of Johnstone Bank, ’can this be a trick of the fiend, or can it be bonnie Phemie Irving who chants this dolorous sang?  Something sad has befallen that makes her seek her seat in this eerie nook amid the darkness and tempest; through might from aboon I will go on and see.’  And the horse, feeling something of the owner’s reviving spirit in the application of spur-steel, bore him at once to the foot of the tree.  The poor delirious maiden uttered a yell of piercing joy as she beheld him, and, with the swiftness of a creature winged, linked her arms round the rider’s waist, and shrieked till the woods rang.  ‘Oh, I have ye now, Elphin, I have ye now,’ and she strained him to her bosom with a convulsive grasp.  ’What ails ye, my bonnie lass?’ said the laird of Johnstone Bank, his fears of the supernatural vanishing when he beheld her sad and bewildered look.  She raised her eyes at the sound, and seeing a strange face, her arms slipped their hold, and she dropped with a groan on the ground.

“The morning had now fairly broke; the flocks shook the rain from their sides, the shepherds hastened to inspect their charges, and a thin blue smoke began to stream from the cottages of the valley into the brightening air.  The laird carried Phemie Irving in his arms, till he observed two shepherds ascending from one of the loops of Corriewater, bearing the lifeless body of her brother.  They had found him whirling round and round in one of the numerous eddies, and his hands, clutched and filled with wool, showed that he had lost his life in attempting to save the flock of his sister.  A plaid was laid over the body, which, along with the unhappy maiden in a half-lifeless state, was carried into a cottage, and laid in that apartment distinguished among the peasantry by the name of the chamber.  While the peasant’s wife was left to take care of Phemie, old man and matron and maid had collected around the drowned youth, and each began to relate the circumstances of his death, when the door suddenly opened, and his sister, advancing to the corpse, with a look of delirious serenity, broke out into a wild laugh and said:  ’Oh, it is wonderful, it’s truly wonderful!  That bare and death-cold body, dragged from the darkest pool of Corrie, with its hands filled with fine wool,