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 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,
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.