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WILLIAM AND MARGARET.
When all was wrapt in dark midnight
And all were fast asleep,
And stood at William's feet.
Her face was like an April morn
Clad in a wintry, cloud,
That held her sable shroud.
So shall the fairest face appear,
When youth and years are flown; Such is the role that kings must wear
When death has reft their crown.
Her bloom was like the springing flower
That sips the silver dew;
Just opening to the view.
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;
Thy love refused to save.
This is the mirk and fearful hour
When injur'd ghosts complain;
To haunt the faithless swain.
Bethink thee, William, of thy fault,
Thy pledge, and broken oath;
And give me back my troth.
How could you say my face was fair,
And yet that face forsake ?
Yet leave that heart to break ?
How could you promise love to me,
And not that promise keep?
Yet leave those eyes to weep?
How could you say my lips were sweet,
And made the scarlet pale ?
Believe the flatt'ring tale ?
That face, alas ! no more is fair,
Those lips no longer red;
And ev'ry charm is fled.
The hungry worm my sister is,
This winding sheet I wear,
Till that last morn appear.
But hark! the cock has warn’d me hence,
A long and last adieu !
Now birds did sing, and morning smile
And shew her glist'ring head ; Pale William shook in every limb,
And raving left his bed,
He hied him to the fatal place
Where Marg'ret's body lay, And stretch'd him on the green grass turf
That wrapp'd her breathless clay. ':
And thrice. he call’d on Marg'ret's name,
And thrice he wept full sore ;
And word spake never more.
was when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring,
All on a rock reclin'd: Wide o'er the foaming billows
She cast a wishful look, Her head was crown'd with willows
That trembled o'er the brook,
Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days; Why didst thou, vent'rous lover,
Why didst thou trust the seas? Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean
And let a lover rest; Ah! what's thy troubled motion',
To that within my breast?
The merchant robb’d. of treasure
Views tempests in despair ; But what's the loss of treasure
To the losing of my dear? Should you some coast be laid on
Where gold and diamonds grow, You'll find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so.
* In the What D’ye call it.
How can they say that Nature
Has nothing made in vain ; Why then beneath the water
Do hideous rocks remain ? No eyes those rocks discover,
That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wand'ring lover
And leave the maid to weep.
All melancholy lying
Thus wail'd she for her dear, Repaid each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear; When o’er the white waves stooping,
His floating corps she 'spied ; Then like a lily drooping
She bow'd her head and died.