A voice drapt saftly on her ear—
'Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me!'
"She lifted up her waukening een,
To see from whence the sound might be,
And there she saw young Sandy stand,
Pale, bending on her his hollow ee.
'O Mary dear, lament nae mair!
I'm in death's thraws aneath the sea:
Thy weeping makes me sad in bliss,
Sae Mary, weep nae mair for me!