200 THE WOFUL WIGHT. 



And now again her flight she takes 



O'er rocks and muirs o'er hills and lakes : 



She saw below the harvest swell, 



And she groan'd to see that it promised so well. 



She stops for a moment to curse the grain, 

 Then away on the wind she hurries amain ; 

 Now she flies high now she flies low 

 And she lights on the summit of huge Ben-y-gloe. 



Thither had call'd her a woful wight 

 With many a spell and mystic rite ; 

 But when he saw the witch appear, 

 That woful wight he quiver'd with fear. 



" Woful wight, now tell me true, 



" What hast thou summon'd me hither to do ? 



"Woful wight, thy answer make ; 



U I must begone ere morning break." 



" My son was a robber so stout and so bold 

 " Lo, where he lies pale, bloody, and cold ; 

 " Revenge ! revenge I ask of thee ; 

 " Oh ! grant that Lord Atholl as cold may be. 



" Atholl's earl, whose cup I bear, 



" Slew this morn my son so fair ; 



" Though a robber he was, he was dear to me, 



" So revenge ! revenge I ask of thee." 



