You will find the drawer, but not the gold,
For the purse and gold are fled.


VI.

Time flies, but sin breeds in-and-in,
And a father's grief is stern;
Robin is dead, and a distant kin
Now calls himself Kildearn.
The moon's pale light falls on yonder tomb,
By which sits a woman grey,
And sings in the blast a revengeful doom,
In a woman's weird way.

"Chirk! whutthroats in yon auld taff dyke,
Hoot! grey owl in yon shaw,
Howl out! ye auld moon-baying tyke,
Ye winds mair keenly blaw,
Till ye rouse to the rage o' a wintry storm
The waves of the Solway sea,
And wauken the brawnit connach worm
On the grave o' Robin-a-Ree."


VII.

More years passed on. Ho! near by the cove
Is a ship with a pirate crew,
All bound in honour and fear and love,