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Rose, go deck his hallow'd grave,
Lily, o'er the green turf twine ; Honour meet that turf should have,
Beauty's bed, and virtue's shrine.
"Primrose pale, and violet blue,
Jas’mine sweet, and eglantine, Nightly here thy'sweets I strew,
Proud to deck my true-love's shrine; Like you, my Damon bloom'd a day,
He did die and so must youBut such charms can you display,
Half so virtuous, half so true?
"No, sweet flowrets, no such charms,
No such virtues can you boast; Yet he's torn from my fond arms,
Yet my faithful love is cross'd. But a radiant morn shall rise,
(Loitring moments, faster flow) When with him I'll tread the skies,
Smile at death, and laugh at woé.!
Thus she sung and strew'd the flow'r,
Beat her breast, and wept, and sigh’d; And, when toll’d the midnight hour,
On the green turf grave she died. Many a nightingale forlorn
Sung her knell, while breezes siglid : Haughty grandeur heard with scorn, How so poor a.maiden died.
WINIFRED, OR AN ADDRESS TO CONJUGAL LOVE.
My Winifreda, move your care;
Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear.
With pompous titles grace our blood;
And to be noble we'll be good.
Will sweetly sound where'er 'tis spoke:
How they respect such little folk.
No mighty treasures we possess ;
And be content without excess. Still shall each returning season
Sufficient for our wishes give; For we will live a life of reason,
And that's the only life to live.
We'll hand in hand together tread ;
And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed.
While round my knees they fondly clang; To see them look their mother's features,
To hear them lisp their mother's tongue.
And when with envy time transported,
Shall think to rob us of our joys, You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go a wooing in my boys.
THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GREY. It was a friar of orders grey
Walk'd forth to tell his beads;
Clad in a pilgrim's weeds.
I pray thee tell to me,
My true love thou didst see?'
From any other one?'
And by his sapdal shoon :
That were so fair to view;
And eyne of lovely blue.'
Lady, he's dead and gone!
And at his heels a stone.
He languish'd, and he died, Lamenting of a lady's love,
And 'plaining of her pride.
• Here bore him, barefác'd on his bier,
Six proper youths and tall;
Within yon kirk-yard wall.'
And art thou dead, thou gentle youth?
And art thou dead and gone? And didst thou die for love of me?
Break, cruel heart of stone !
"O weep not, lady, weep not so!
Some ghostly comfort seek :
Nor tears bedew thy cheek.'
not, do not, holy friar, My sorrow now reprove'; For I have lost the sweetest youth
That e'er won lady's love.
And now, alas ! for thy sad loss,
I'll ever weep and sigh; For thee I only wish to live,
For thee I wish to die.'
• Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrow is in vain : For violets pluck'd, the sweetest show'rs
Will ne'er make grow again.
•Our joys as winged dreams do fly,
Why then should sorrow last? Since grief but aggravates thy loss,
Grieve not for what is past.'
0 say not so, thou holy friar!
I pray thee, say not so!
'Tis meet my tears should flow.
And will he never come again?
Will he ne'er come again?
For ever to remain.
• His cheek was redder than the rose,
The comeliest youth was he;
Alas! and woe is me!'
'Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
To one thing constant never.
Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
And left thee sad and heavy;
Since summer-trees were leafy.?
Now say not so, thou holy friar!
I pray thee, say not so!
O he was ever true !
• And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth?
And didst thou die for me? Then farewell home! for evermore
A pilgrim I will be.