What sorrows attend you!
I see you sit shivering,
With lights at your window;
But long may you wait
Ere your arms shall enclose him,
For still, still he lies,
With a wreath on his bosom.

How painful the task
The sad tidings to tell you!--
An orphan you were,
Ere this misery befell you;
And far in yon wild,
Where the dead-tapers hover,
So cold, cold and wan,
Lies the corpse of your lover.


_The Ettrick Shepherd._

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MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

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