she into Mildred's ear;
But what that was no tongue might tell,
For there was none to hear.

"What makes ye laugh?" cries Lillyfair,
As she comes tripping ben;
"Oh do come tell, dear Christobel,
For I am fidging fain."

"Oh this is the night, my sister dear.
When the wind is low and loun,
That we are to go in a merry row
To see the eclipse of the moon.

"And thou'lt go with us, Lillyfair,
And see this goodly show--
The moon in the meer reflected clear,
With the shadow upon her brow."

"Oh yes, I will go," Lillyfair rejoined;
And glad in her heart was she,
For seldom before had her sisters deigned
To give her their companie.

'Twas the hour o' twell by Ballogie's bell,
When each with her mantle and hood,
They all sallied out in a merry rout,
Away through the still greenwood.

Shine out, shine out, thou silvery maid,
And light them to the place;
But long ere all this play be played,
In sorrow thou'lt hide thy face.

No shadow of this earth ever can
A murkier darkness throw,
Than what from the sin of cruel man
May be cast on thy silvery brow.

The greenwood through, the greenwood through,
Ho! there is Ballogie's meer;
And deep within its breast they view
The moon's face shining clear.

And down they bent, and forward leant--
Loud laughed the sisters three,
As Lillyfair threw back her hair,
Yet could no shadow see.

But is not this an old, old dream--
Some nightmare of the brain?
A splash! and, oh! a wild, wild scream,
And all is still again.

This was the eclipse which the sisters meant
When they would the maid beguile;
For sin has the greater a relish in't
When lurking beneath a smile.

And now the pale-faced moon serene
Shines down on the waters clear,
Where deep, deep among the seggs so green
Lies Ballogie's Lillyfair.

On Ballogie's dam there sails a swan
With wings of snowy white,
But never is seen by the eye of man
Save in the pale moonlight.

And the miller he looks with upright hair
Upon that weird-like thing,
And as he peers he thinks he hears
It sing as swans can sing.

XVI.

THE LEGEND OF DOWIELEE.

I.

There still is shown at Dowielee,
Within the ancient corbeiled tower,
A chamber once right fair to see,
And called the Ladye Olive's bower.
Right o'er the old carved mantelpiece
A portrait hung in frame of gold,
O'er which was spread by strange caprice
A pall of crape in double fold;
And it wa