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EDWIN AND EMMA.

Oft, too, on Stanmore's wintry waste,

Beneath the moonlight shade, In sighs to pour his soften'd soul,

The midnight mourner stray'd.

His cheek, where health with beanty glow'd,

A deadly pale o'ercast :
So fades the fresh rose in its prime,

Before the northern blast.

The parents now, with late remorse,

Hung o'er his dying bed;
And wearied Heaven with fruitless rows,

And fruitless sorrows shed.

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• 'Tis past!” he cried ; “but, if your souls

Sweet mercy yet can move,
Let these dim eyes once more behold

What they must ever love!"

She came,-his cold hand softly touch'd,

And bath'd with many a tear : Fast falling o'er the primrose pale,

So morning dews appear.

But oh! his sister's jealous care

(A cruel sister she!) Forbade what Emma came to say,

“My Edwin, live for me !"

Now homeward as she hopeless wept

The church-yard path along, The blast blew cold, the dark owl scream'd

Her lover's funeral song,

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Just then she reach'd, with trembling step,

Her aged mother's door: " He's gone!" she cried, “ and I shall see

That angel-face no more!

"I feel, I feel, this breaking heart

Beat high against my side!”.
From her white arm down sunk her head,

She shiver'd, sigli'd, and died.

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LOCHINTAR.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all :
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,

in
peace

here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?”

" ( come ye

"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide;
And now am I come, with this lost lovo of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.”

The bride kiss'd the goblet : the knight took it up,
He quaff”d off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-
* Now tread we a measure!” said young Lochinvar.

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So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whisper'd, “ 'Twere better by far
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

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One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

She is won! we are gone, over Lank, bush, and scaur;
They'll liave teet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

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There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ;
There was racing and chasing on Canobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have you e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar:

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