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I took his body on my back, 
And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sate : 
I digg’d a grave and laid him in, 
And happ’d him in the sod sae green. 
But think ye nae my heart was sair, 
When I laid the moul on his yellow hair ! 
O think ye nae my heart was wae, 
When I turned about away to gae! 
Nae living man I’ll love again, 
Since that my lovely knight is slain ! 
Wi a lock of his yellow hair 
I'll bind my heart for ever mair! 
Or if you wanted another instance of the passionate devotion with 
which love can cling to its departed object, you have one surely 
in the well-known ballad of the ‘“ Dowie Dens o’ Yarrow”—in 
which a lady finds the body of her lover, Walter Scott, who has 
been surprised in the glen and foully murdered by his enemies— 
She kissed his cheek—she kaimed his hair, 
She washed his wounds all thorough ; 
She kissed him till her cheeks were red, 
On the dowie houms of Yarrow. 
Her father comes to her— 
‘“Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, 
For a’ this hauds but sorrow ; 
I'll wed ye to a better lord 
Than him ye lost on Yarrow.” 
‘*O haud your tongue, my father dear, 
Ye mind me but of sorrow : 
A fairer rose did never bloom, 
Than now lies cropped on Yarrow.” 
Whether the lady always remained in the same mind the story 
does not relate. In another beautiful ballad again, we have a tale 
of the high courage with which true love can fill a woman’s soul. 
The ballad is called. “The Gay Goss Hawk.” You will find it in 
Scott’s collection. A knight in the north loves a lady in the south 
countrie—perhaps here in Cumberland—but, unfortunately, the 
’ course of their love does not run smooth, and he is not allowed to 
see her, He accordingly sends his hawk with a letter “under its 
