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By Lucy warn'd, of flatt'ring swains

Take heed, ye easy fair!
Of vengeance due to broken vows,

Ye perjured swains, beware!

Three times all in the dead of night,

A bell was heard to ring;
And shrieking at her window thrice,

The raven flapp'd her wing.

Too well the love-lorn maiden knew

The folemn-boding found, And thus in dying words bespoke

The maidens weeping round,

I hear a voice you cannot hear,

Which says į must not stay ; I see a hand you cannot see,

Which beckons me away..

By a false heart, and broken vows,

In early youth I die :
Was I to blame, because the bride

Is twice as rich as I?

Ah,

Ah, Colin, give not her thy vows,

Vows due to me alone!
Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,

And think him all thy own!

To-morrow in the church to wed

Impatient both prepare : But know, fond maid, and know, false man,

That LUCY will be there.

Then bear my corse, ye

comrades dear, The bridegroom blithe to meet; He in his wedding-trim so gay,

I in my winding sheet!

She spoke and dy'd, her corse was borne,

The bridegroom blithe to meet ; He in his wedding-trim so gay,

She in her winding sheet,

Oh! what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts?

How were those nuptials kept ?
The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.

Compassion,

Compassion, Ihame, remorse, despair,

At once his bosom swell :
The damps of death bedew'd his brows,

He shook, he groan’d, he fell.

From the vain bride, a bride no more,

The varying crimson fled ;
When, stretch'd beside her rival's corse,

She saw her husband dead.

He to his Lucy's new-made grave,

Convey'd by trembling swains, One mold with her, beneath one fod,

For ever now remains.

Oft at this place the constant hind

And plighted maid are seen :
With garlands gay, and true love knots

They deck the facred green.

But, swain forsworn, whoe'er thou art,

This hallowed spot forbear! Remember COLIN's dreadful fate, And fear to meet him there.

TICKELL.

W

HEN all was wrapt in dark midnight

And all were fast alleep,
In glided MARGARET's grimly ghost

And stood at WILLIAM's feet.

Her face was like an April morn

Clad in a wintry cloud,
And clay-cold-was her lily hand

That held her fable shroud.

So shall the faireft face

appear, When youth and years are flown ; Such is the robe that kings must wear

When death has reft their crown.

Her bloom was like the springing flower

That fips the silver dew;
The rose was budded in her cheek,

Juft opening to the view.

But

But love had, like the canker worm,

Consum'd her early prime ;
The rose grew pale and left her cheek,

She died before her time.

Awake, she cried, thy true love calls

Come from her midnight grave; Now let thy pity hear the maid

Thy love refufed to save,

This is the mirk and fearful hour

When injur'd ghosts complain; Now dreary graves give up their dead

To haunt the faithless swain.

Bethink thee, WILLIAM, of thy fault,

Thy pledge, and broken oath; And give me back my maiden vow,

And give me back my troth,

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How could you say my face was fair,
And
yet

that face forsake ?
How could you win my virgin heart,

Yet leave that heart to break :

How

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