Oh! brave Heriot; dear, dear Walter, you did not betray me; my father struck you, and you let him for my sake.
Every night I pray heaven to make you forgive him: I thought you would hate me.

I cried till I was glad you could not see me.

Look at those two little stars; no, they hurt me, I can't look at them ever again.

But no, you are not going; you want to frighten me.

Do smell the flowers.