Page:Scott - Tales of my Landlord - 3rd series, vol. 4 - 1819.djvu/25

 "Twelve times the rolling year has sped, Since, while from vengeance wild Of fierce Strathallan's chief I fled, Forth's eddies whelmed my child."

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

"St Bridget sent no scaly spoil; An infant, well nigh dead, They saved, and reared in want and toil, To beg from you her bread."

That orphan maid the lady kissed,— "My husband's looks you bear; Saint Bridget and her morn be blessed! 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.