That it was a merry wedding, you are not asked to believe. For, firstly, it took place almost in the shadow of death; and then, happiness that comes after long tarrying, comes—but comes timidly—like a flower that blows too late and trembles for the storm. Yet, in the spring after, the same plant will throw out vigorous and fearless shoots. And so it was, I feel sure, with Alison and Archibald Herries. They were happy in their marriage; children were born to them in the fine George Street house, and there were gay summer migrations to the Galloway home, and all the due symbols of a rational and well-deserved prosperity. I think that to the last they were on calling—if not cordial—terms, with Clarinda, and that Willy Maclehose, grown a fine young man, was a frequent visitor at their house. But these things are all past and gone now. Alison’s children are dust, and their children, I daresay, are preparing in turn for the inevitable abdication. For so the world wags, and we live and die, and Nature renews, for each one of us, the slowly-moving pageant of joy and sorrow, of passion and of pain. But it is the RHYMER, of whatsoever generation he may be, singing of these things for us so that we all understand, who is the only Immortal. _*BURNS TO CLARINDA*_ _’Ae fond kiss and then we sever,_ _Ae fareweel and then forever!_ _Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,_ _Warring sighs and groans, I’ll wage thee._ _Who shall say that fortune grieves him_ _While the star of hope she leaves him?_ _Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me,_ _Dark despair around benights me._ _’I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy,_ _Naething could resist my Nancy;_ _But to see her was to love her;_ _Love but her and love forever._ _Had we never loved sae kindly,_ _Had we never loved sae blindly,_ _Never met or never parted,_ _We had ne’er been broken-hearted._ _’Fare thee well, thou first and fairest!_ _Fare thee well, thou best and dearest!_ _Thine be ilka joy and treasure,_ _Peace, contentment, love and pleasure._ _Ae fond kiss and then we sever;_ _’Ae fareweel, alas! forever._ _Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,_ _Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.’_