7
In that very moment, though in Scotland, we hear,
A dreadful spectre to his love did appear,
As she was a-weeping under the green Oak,
He quickly past by her and not a word spoke;
Yet shaking the left hand, where the ring he did wear,
Which wanting a finger and blood dropping were.
Whereat the young Lady was struck with amaze,
And rose to run after, and on him did gaze;
As she knew it was Grigor, but how in that place,
It made her to wonder and dread the sad case.
With terror and grief, home she did retire,
And spent the whole night in weeping and prayer.
So early next morning she rose with the sun,
Went back to the green Oak to weep all alone.
For always she esteem’d that place as we hear.
As on it she got the last sight of her dear:
As there she sat weeping and tearing, her hair,
Again the pale spectre to her did appear,
And with a wild aspect it star’d in her face,
Then said, O dear Katty, do not me embrace;
For I’m but a spirit, though shining in blood,
My body lies murdered in a foreign wood:
There’s two wounds in my body and three in my side,
With hatchets and arrows that’s both deep and wide;
My scalp and fine hair for a premium is sold,
And also my finger, with the ring of pure gold,
Which you threw upon it as a mark of true love,
