And to the holy water bring;
A cup is fasten’d to the stone,
And I would taste the healing spring,
That soon its rocky cist forsakes, 160
And green its mossy passage makes.”—
“The holy spring is turn’d aside,
The rock is gone, the stream is dried;
The plough has levell’d all around,
And here is now no holy ground.”—
“Then, lass, thy grandsire’s footsteps guide