After 10, two stanzas which are nearly O 3, 4.
113. ten slain men. (Cf. F 93.)
122,3.
She searchd his wounds all thorough;
She kissd them till her lips grew red.
132. For a’ this breeds but sorrow. (Cf. F 132.)
142. Ye mind me but of sorrow.
143,4.
A fairer rose did never bloom
Than now lies croppd on Yarrow.