Page:Grigor's ghost, or, The constant lovers.pdf (NLS104184194).pdf/7

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One of his fingers from his hand they had cut,
Whereon was the ring from his love he had got;
And at that very moment in Scotland we hear,
A most dreadful spectre to his love did appear.

For as she was weeping under the green oak,
He quickly pass'd by her, but not a word spoke;
Shaking his left hand, where the ring he did wear,
Which wanted a finger and blood dropping there.

Whereat the young lady was struck with amaze,
And rose to run after, and on it did gaze,
As she knew in was Grigor; but how in this 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 by the sun,
Went back to the green oak to weep all alone.

For always she esteemed that place, as we hear,
As on it she got the last sight of her dear;
And as she sat weeping and tearing her hair,
Again the pale spectre to her did appear—

And with a mild aspect it stared in her face,
Then said, O dear Kitty, do not me embrace;
For I'm but a spirit, tho' shining in blood,
My body lies murder'd in a foreign wood.

There's two wounds in my breast, and three in my side,
With hatchets and arrows, both deep and wide;
My scalp of fine hair for a premium is sold,
And also my finger, with the ring of pure gold.

Which you put upon it, as a mark of true love,
Love's stronger than death, for it does not remove;