Lady Anne

NOVEMBER'S hail-cloud drifts away,
November's sunbeam wan
Looks coldly on the castle grey,
When forth comes Lady Anne.

The orphan by the oak was set,
Her arms, her feet, were bare ;
The hail drops had not melted yet,
Amid her raven hair.

' And, dame,' she said, ' by all the ties
That child and mother know,
Aid one who never knew these joys,
Relieve an orphan's woe.'

The lady said, ' An orphan's state
Is hard and sad to bear ;
Yet worse the widow'd mother's fate,
Who mourns both lord and heir.

'Twelve times the rolling year has sped,
Since, when from vengeance wild
Of fierce Strathallan's Chief I fled,
Forth's eddies whelm'd my child.'

' Twelve times the year its course has borne,'
The wandering maid replied ;
' Since fishers on Saint Bridget's morn
Drew nets on Campsie side.

'Saint Bridget sent no scaly spoil ;
An infant, wellnigh dead,
They saved, and rear'd in want and toil,
To beg from you her bread.'

That orphan maid the lady kiss'd, --
' My husband's looks you bear ;
Saint Bridget and her morn be bless'd !
You are his widow's heir.

They've robed that maid, so poor and pale,
In silk and sandals rare ;
And pearls, for drops of frozen hail,
Are glistening in her hair.