Long had he seen their mutual flame, And seen it long unmov'd; In Edwin's gentle heart a war Denied her sight, he oft behind Oft too in Stanmore's wintry waste, His cheeks, where love with beauty glow'd, So fades the fresh rose in its prime, Before the northern blast. The parents now, with late remorse, And wearied Heav'n with fruitless pray's, "Tis past,' he cried, but if your souls Sweet mercy yet can move, Let these dim eyes once more behold She came; his cold hand softly touch'd, ona 1 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!) Forbad what Emma came to say, 'My Edwin, live for me.' Now homeward as she hopeless went The blast blew cold, the dark owl scream'd Amid the falling gloom of night Alone, appall'd, thus had she pass'd The visionary vale, When lo! the death-bell smote her ear, Sad sounding in the gale! Just then she reach'd, with trembling step, '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; " Mallet. WILLIAM AND MARGARET. WHEN all was wrapp'd in dark midnight, And all were fast asleep, In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet. Her face was like the April morn So shall the fairest face appear Her bloom was like the springing flow'r But love had, like the canker-worm, The rose grew pale, and left her check ; 'Awake!' she cried, 'thy true-love calls, Come from her midnight grave; Now let thy pity hear the maid "This is the dark and fearful hour · 'Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, Thy pledge and broken oath, 'How could you say my face was fair, How could you win my virgin heart, 'How could you promise love to me, Why did you swear my eyes were bright, 'How could you say my lip was sweet, And why did I, young witless maid, 'That face, alas! no more is fair, Dark are my eyes, now clos'd in death, '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 ! Come see, false man! how low she lies That died for love of you.' Now birds did sing, and Morning smil❜d, He hied him to the fatal place And stretch'd him on the green-grass turf And thrice he call'd on Margret's name, Then laid his cheek to the cold earth, And word spoke never more. Mallet. LUCY AND COLIN. OF Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair, Till luckless love, and pining care, Her coral lips and damask cheeks, O have you seen a lily pale, By Lucy warn'd, of flattering swains Of vengeance due to broken vows, |