And after these, with hand in hand, the Sisters Troil appear;
  Poor “Mina’s” cheek was deadly pale, in “Brenda’s” eye a tear;
  And “Norna,” in a sable vest, sang wild a funeral cry,
  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;
  “He’s balanced his account,” he cried, “and closed his earthly books;”
  Bold “Loxley,” with his bow unbent—­unhelm’d “Le Belafre,”
  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,
  And with her bends the “Douglas’” knees, with bold young “Roland Graeme.”

  But hark! what fairy melody comes wafted on the gale—­
  Oh! ’tis “Fenella’s” sighing lute, in notes of woe and wail: 
  “Claud Halero” catches at the strain, and mourns the minstrel gone,
  “His spirit rest in peace where sleeps the shade of glorious John!”

  With spattered cloak, the ladies’ knight, the gallant “Rawleigh” see,
  “Sir Creveceux’s” plume waves by his side, and “Durward’s” fleur-de-lis;
  There “Janet” leans on “Foster’s” arm—­e’en “Varney’s” treacherous eye
  Is moistened with a tear that speaks remorse’s agony.

  Next, muffled in his sable cloak, “Tressilian” wends his way,
  His slouching hat denies his brow the cheering light of day;
  See how he dogs the proud earl’s steps, as “Leicester” bears along
  The lovely “Amy” on his arm through that sad mournful throng.

  There “Lillias” pass’d with fairy step, in hood and mantle green,
  Her sire, “Redgauntlet’s” eagle eye is fixed on her, I ween;
  And “Wandering Willie” doffs his cap, to raise his sightless eye
  To Heaven, and cried, “God rest his soul in yonder sunny sky!”

  Here “Donald Lean,” with fillibeg and tartan-skirted knee;
  There pale was “Cleveland,” as he slept by Stromness’ howling sea;
  With faltering step crept “Trapbois” by, with drooping palsied head,
  More like a charnel truant stray’d from regions of the dead.