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Leave was requested that a solemn dirge Should be this night sung by some grave; but whose, Or e'en by whom requested, I am ignorant. Some Papist, like enough: but what of that?

How many graves thou'st made in one short week! Thou hast been busy in thy sad vocation.

I have, good sooth! and knew it would be so, A month before the fell disease began.

How knew it?

He, the sighted man from Skye, Was in the town; and, at the crowded cross, Fell into strong convulsions, at the sight Which there appear'd to him.

What did he see?

Merchants, and lairds, and deacons, making bargains, And setting trystes, and joking carelessly, Swathed in their shrouds; some to the very chin, Some breast-high, others only to the loins.