But who the expected husband is? His hands, methinks, are bathed in slaughter. Ah me! what ghastly spectre's yon, Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after? Pale as he is, here lay him down, O lay his cold head on my pillow; Take off, take off these bridal weeds, And crown my careful head with willow. * * * * * Return, return, O mournful bride, Return and dry thy useless sorrow; Thy lover heeds naught of thy sighs, He lies a corpse on the Braes o' Yarrow. Somewhat more than half a century later, Logan wrote a song with the same title, of which the following are the concluding stanzas. "Sweet were his words when last we met; My passion I as freely told him; Clasped in his arms I little thought That I should never more behold him! Scarce was I gone, I saw his ghost; It vanished with a shriek of sorrow; Thrice did the water wraith ascend And gave a doleful groan through Yarrow. "His mother from the window look'd With all the longing of a mother; His little sister weeping walk'd The green wood path to meet her brother. They sought him East, they sought him West, They sought him all the forest thorough; They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow! "No longer from thy window look, Thou hast no son, O tender mother! No longer walk, thou lovely maid! Alas! thou hast no more a brother! No longer seek him East or West, And search no more the forest thoro'; For wandering in the night so dark, He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow. "The tear shall never leave my cheek, No other youth shall be my marrow; I'll seek thy body in the stream, And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow." The tear did never leave her cheek, No other youth became her marrow; She found his body in the stream, And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. We are now prepared to read Wordsworths' two exquisite poems, "Yarrow Unvisited," and "Yarrow Visited," the splendid flowering, so to speak, of this poetical growth. From Stirling Castle we had seen The mazy Forth unravelled; Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay, And with the Tweed had travelled; And when we came to Clovenford, Then said 'my _winsome Marrow_,' "Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside, And see the braes o' Yarrow." "Let Yarrow folk _frae_ Selkirk Town, Who have been buying, selling, Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own; Each maiden to her dwelling! On Yarrow's banks let herons feed, Hares couch and rabbits burrow! But we will downward with the Tweed, Nor turn aside to Yarrow.