"He's balanced his account," he cried, "and closed his earthly books;"
Bold "Loxley," with his bow unbent—unhelm'd "Le Belafré,"
Together pass'd—the archer wiped one silent tear away.
Stern "Bridgenorth," with his daughter's arm hung on his own, stalk'd by;
The blushing "Alice" veils her face from "Julian Peveril's" eye:
"Alack-a-day," 'Daft Davie' cries—"come, follow, follow me,
We'll strew his grave with cowslip buds and blooming rosemary."
In distance from the mournful throng, like stars of other spheres,
The lovely "Mary Stuart" pays the homage of her tears,
With "Cath'rine Seymore" at the shrine of Scotia's dearest name,