And waved aloft a bough of yew, in solemn mystery.
"George Heriot" crap'd, and "Jenkin Vin" with prentice-cap in hand—
Ev'en "Lady Palla" left her shrine to join that funeral band;
But hood and veil conceal'd her form—yet, hark! in whisper's tone
She breathes a Christian's holy prayer for the mighty spirit flown.
A wail!—a hollow, churchyard wail!—a wild weird-sister's cry!—
Ah! "Annie Winnie," thou too here?—and "Alice?"—vanish—fly!
"Not so," they shrieked, "we'll see the corse—the bonny corse; 'twas meet—
And pity 'twas we were not there to bind his winding sheet."
Old "Owen" passed with tottering step, and lost and wandering looks;