And lang may she seek in the greenwood shaw;
Lang the Laird o’ Duneira blame,
And lang, lang greet[10] e’er Kilmeny come hame!
When many a day had come and fled,
When grief grew calm, and hope was dead,
When mass for Kilmeny’s soul had been sung,
When the bedesman had prayed and the dead-bell rung;
Late, late in a gloaming, when all was still,
When the fringe was red on the westlin[11] hill,
The wood was sere, the moon i’ the wane,