By Lucy warn'd, of flatt'ring swains Take heed, ye easy fair! Ye perjured swains, beware! Three times all in the dead of night, A bell was heard to ring; 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 : Is twice as rich as I? Ah, Ah, Colin, give not her thy vows, Vows due to me alone! 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 ? Compassion, Compassion, Ihame, remorse, despair, At once his bosom swell : He shook, he groan’d, he fell. From the vain bride, a bride no more, The varying crimson fled ; 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 : 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, And stood at WILLIAM's feet. Her face was like an April morn Clad in a wintry cloud, 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; Juft opening to the view. But But love had, like the canker worm, Consum'd her early prime ; 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, How could you say my face was fair, that face forsake ? Yet leave that heart to break : How |