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O’er the path, so well known, still proceeded the maid,
Where the Abbey rose dim on the sight;
Seemed to deepen the gloom of the night.
Howled dismally round the old pile ;
Where the elder-tree grew in the aisle. Well pleased did she reach it, and quickly drew near,
And hastily gathered the bough; When the sound of a voice seemed to rise on her ear,--She paused, and she listened, all eager to hear,
And her heart panted fearfully now. The wind blew, the hoarse ivy shook over her head :
She listened ;—nought else could she ntas.
Of footsteps approaching her near.
She crept to conceal herself there;
And between them a corpse did they bear.
Again the rough wind hurried by—
She fell—and expected to die !
And fast through the Abbey she flies.
She ran with wild speed, she rushed in at the door,
She cast her eyes horribly round;
Unable to utter a sound.
For a moment the hat met her view;
When the name of her Richard she knew! Where the old Abbey stands on the common hard by,
His jibbet is now to be seen ; Not far from the road it
eye, The traveller beholds it, and thinks, with a sigh,
Of poor Mary, the Maid of the Inn.
THE THREE WARNINGS..
That love of life increased with years'
The greatest love of life appears.
When sports went round, and all were gay,
Quit your sweet bride, and come with me.”
< Young as I am, 'tis monstrous hard !
His reasons could not well be stronger;
And left to live a little longer. Yet calling up a serious look, His hour-glass trembled while he spoke, “ Neighbour,” he said, “farewell! no more “ Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour; “ And farther, to avoid all blame “Of cruelty upon my name, “ To give you time for preparation, “ And fit you for your future station, “ Three several warnings you shall have, “ Before you're summoned to the grave, “ Willing for once I'll quit my prey,
" And grant a kind reprieve;
In hopes you'll have no more to say ; 6 But, when I call again this way,
“Well pleased the world will leave.”
The willing muse shall tell :
Nor thought of Death as near:
He passed his hours in peace;
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,
Brought on his eightieth year.
As all alone he sate,
Once more before him stood.
Half killed with anger and surprise, “So soon returned !" old Dobson cries.
“So soon, d'ye call it ?” Death replies : “ Surely, my friend, you're but in jest !
“Since I was here before, “ 'Tis six-and-thirty years at least,
“ And you are now fourscore.”
“ So much the worse,” the clown rejoined ; " To spare the aged would be kind: “However, see your search be legal ; “ And your authority-is't regal ? “ Else you are come on a fool's errand, “ With but a secretary's'warrant. “ Besides, you promised me Three Warnings, “ Which I have looked for nights and mornings ; “ But for that loss of time and ease, “ I can recover damages.”
“I know,” cries Death, “ that at the best, “ I seldom am a welcome guest; “ But don't be captious, friend, at least; “ I little thought you'd still be able “To stump about your farm and stable; “ Your years have run to a great length ; “ I wish you joy, though, of your strength !”
“Hold,” says the farmer, “not so fast ! “I have been lame these four years past.”
“And no great wonder,” death replies ; “ However, you still keep your eyes ; “ And sure to see one's loves and friends, “ For legs and arms would make amends."
“Perhaps," says Dobson, “ so it might; “But latterly I've lost my sight.
<. This is a shocking story, faith ;
“These are unjustifiable yearnings ;
“You've had your Three sufficient Warnings,
A CONTEST BETWEEN THE NOSE AND
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning; While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning. In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your Lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear,
Which amounts to possession time out of mind. Then, holding the spectacles up to the court
Your Lordship observes they are made with a straddle, As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. Again, would your Lordship a moment suppose
('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again,) That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,
Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then ?