‘His bonny jimp middle, his black rolling eye,
If I getna Glenlogie, I’m sure I shall die.’
17
But her father’s old chaplain, a man of great skill,
He wrote a broad letter, and pennëd it well.
18
Saying, O brave Glenlogie, why must it be so?
A maid’s love laid on you, shall she die in her woe?
19
Then reading the letter, his heart was like to break