‘But how shall I hate thee, even though towards me thou hast become cold? When my discourse is most angry concerning thy name in thine absence, Of sudden thine image, with its old dearness, comes visibly into my mind, And a secret voice whispers that love will yet prevail! AND I BECOME SURETY FOR IT ANEW, DARLING, AND IT SPRINGS UP AT THAT HOUR LOFTY AS A TOWER.’ “Rude and bald as these things appear in a verbal translation, and rough as they might possibly appear, even were the originals intelligible, we confess we are disposed to think they would of themselves justify Dr. Mackay (their Editor) in placing this herdsman-lover among the true sons of song.”--QUARTERLY REVIEW, NO. XC., JULY 1831. End of Project Gutenberg’s Chronicles of the Canongate, by Sir Walter Scott