Thus, in that most powerful and tragic ballad, _Clerk Saunders_, May Margaret ties a napkin about her eyes that she 'may swear, and keep her aith,' to her 'seven bauld brothers,' that she had not seen her lover 'since late yestreen'; she carries him across the threshold of her bower, that she may be able to say that his foot had never been there. The story of the sleeping twain--the excuses for their sin; the reason why ruth should turn aside vengeance--is told, in staccato sentences, by the brothers as they stand by the bedside of their 'ae sister,' with 'torches burning bright': 'Out and spake the first o' them, "I wot that they are lovers dear"; And out and spake the second o' them, "They 've been in love this mony a year"; And out and spake the third o' them, "His father had nae mair than he."' And so until the seventh--the Rashleigh of the band--who spake no word, but let his 'bright brown brand' speak for him. What follows rises to the extreme height of the balladist's art; literature might be challenged for anything surpassing it in simplicity and power, in the mingling of horror and pathos: 'Clerk Saunders he started and Margaret she turned, Into his arms as asleep she lay; And sad and silent was the night That was atween the twae. And they lay still and sleeped sound, Until the day began to daw, And softly unto him she said, "It 's time, true love, you were awa'." But he lay still and sleeped sound, Albeit the sun began to sheen; She looked atween her and the wa', And dull and drumlie were his een.'