And still she tried to fall asleep,
But aye the thoughts their revels keep:
Hark, "one" knurrs from the ancient clock,
Long yet ere crowing of the cock—
That sound which sends to their repose
The ghosts that mourn their human woes.
A faint beam from the waning moon
Can scarcely more than show the gloom;
All is so still and silent round,
The foot of ghost might raise a sound.
Hush! there's a rustling near the bed—
She heard the curtain drawn aside.
With trembling fear she turned to see
Amid the gloom who there might be,
And thought she yet could dimly trace
The outlines of that well-known face
Of him, now dead, who loved her dear,
And she had scorned through pride of gear.
"Oh Marion dear!" the words came plain:
"Maid Marion, dear," it said again;
"Remember you of that auld time
I tried sae sair thy love to win,
And for that I was lowly born
Thou treated my true love with scorn?"
"Ah, Willie, Willie! I do thee fear,
It is thine angry ghost I hear;
I saw thee looking from on high,
I saw red anger in thine eye;
Come thou my cruel heart to chide,
Or claim me for thy heavenly bride?"
"No, Marion dear!" the shade replied,
"I dinna come thy heart to chide.
A spendthrift father left thee poor,
But Heaven has added to my store.
Thou hast been punished for thy pride,
And I am come to claim my bride."
"Oh fearful shade! the cock will craw;
It's mair than time thou wert awa.
Gae back into the ocean deep
Where thou and thy companions sleep."
But still the angry spirit said,
"I come to claim thee for my bride."
Sore, sore she wept, and shook with dread,
"I've meikle sin upon my head,
And, oh! I am unfit to dee,
And go to heaven thy bride to be.
Leave me! oh leave me! flit away,
And give me peace to weep and pray."
Now something touched Maid Marion's arm,
She felt the touch both kind and warm;
The spirit took her by the hand,
She felt the touch both kind and bland.
The spirit kissed Maid Marion's mou',
Oh! how it thrilled her body through.
The spirit laughed in that odd way
Which spirits do when they are gay;
For there are spirits good and bad—
The good are aye a merry squad.
No body-pains their hearts to vex,
No worldly cares their minds perplex.