His swains were clothed in samite, with owches of gold beside;
Unto the kirk they’ve ridden, all with the fair young bride.
7
The bride she stood at kirkyard gate, red as a rose in bloom;
She looked out over the water: “And where is the bonny groom?”
8
Up spake Nilaus Bendiktsson, he spake right joyfully:
“He dared not cross the burn to-day, for the water ran so high!”
9
All on the bridal-bench the bride right modestly she sate,