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"I blame not Hea'vn !' the maid replied,

• But mourn my true-love-dead ! And on his green grave I'll abide,

For 'tis my bridal bed!'
The hapless maid knelt down, for fear

That holy man should blame;
But still, with ev'ry hallow'd prayer,

She sigh'd her true-love's pame!
Still soft she cried—'O stay, my love,

My true-love, stay for me ;
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.'
Enough! enough, thou much-tried dear!'

The weeping knight exclaim'd: "Enough! I've tried thee, matchless fair!

And be the trial blam'd.
I am thy love, thy own true-love,

And I am come to wed;
Nor shall this turf thy green grave prove,

Nor be thy bridal bed.
"I am a knight of noble name,

And thou of low degree;
So, like a shepherd, poor I came

To prove thy constancy.'
But she, with woe forlorn, still cried

My true-love, stay for me ;
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.' • Enough! enough, thou too-tried maid !'

Again the knight exclaim’d; • See at thy feet thy true-love laid,

Of all his guile asham'd.

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Forgive me, maid-my love now prove

O! let us instant wed;
And thou with tears of joy, my love,

Shalt deck thy bridal bed.'
And art thou him? exclaim'd the maid

And dost thou live? she cried : "Too cruel love !' she faintly said,

Then wrung his hand-and died !
Stay ! cried the knight, all woe-be gone,

Now stay, my love! for me ;-
Stay, till I've deck'd our bridal bed,

And I will follow thee!
In vain the priest, with holy lore,

By turns did soothe and chide;
The knight, distracted, wept full sore,

And on the green turf-died,
Now underneath—may Heaven them save!

The lovers both are laid ;
And thus, indeed, the green tuft grave
Became their bridal bed.


BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY. In Scarlet town, where I was born,

There was a fair maid dwelling, Made every youth cry, Wel-away!

Her name was Barbara Allen. All in the merry mouth of May,

When green buds they were swelling, Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay,

For love of Barbara Allen,

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He sent his man unto her then,

To the town where she was dwelling; • You must come to my master dear,

If your name be Barbara Allen.

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For death is printed on his face,

And o'er his heart is stealing : Then haste away to comfort him,

O lovely Barbara Allen.'

“Though death be printed on his face,

And o'er his heart is stealing: Yet little better shall he be

For bonny Barbara Allen.'

So slowly, slowly, she came up,

And slowly she came nigh him ; And all she said, when there she came,

• Young man, I think you're dying.'

He turn’d his face unto her straight,

With deadly sorrow sighing; O lovely maid, come pity me,

I'm on my death-bed lying.'

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'If on your death-bed you do lie,

What needs the tale you're telling? I cannot keep you from your death;

Farewell !' said Barbara Allen.

He turn'd his face unto the wall,

As deadly pangs he fell in : • Adieu! adieu! adieu to all!

Adieu to Barbara Allen!'

As she was walking o'er the fields,

She heard the bells a knelling; And every stroke did seem to say,

Unworthy Barbara Allen!'

She turned her body round about,

And spied the corpse a coming; Lay down, lay down the corpse,' she said, • That I may look upon him.'

With scornful eye she looked down,

Her cheek with laughter swelling; Whilst all her friends cried out amain,

Unworthy Barbara Allen!


When he was dead and laid in grave,

Her heart was struck with sorrow. “O mother, mother, make my bed,

For I shall die to-morrow.

• Hard-hearted creature him to slight,

Who loved me so dearly :
O that I had been more kind to him,

When he was alive and near me!'

She, on her death-bed, as she lay,

Begg’d to be buried by him; And sore repented of the day

That she did e'er deny him.

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Farewell,' she said, ' ye virgins all,

Aud shun the fault I fell in ; Henceforth take warning by the fall

Of cruel Barbara Allen.' Anonymous.

15 JULÍA. To the graves where sleep the dead,

Hapless Julia took her way; Sighs to heave, and tears to shed,

1911 O'er the spot where Damon lay. Many a blooming flow'r she bore,

O'er the green grass turf to throw; in And while fast her tears did pour,

Thus she sang to sooth her woe:

• Soft and safe though lowly grave,

Fast o'er thee my tears shall flow; Only hope the hapless have,

Only refuge left for woe. Constant love and grief sincere

Shall thy hallow'd turf pervade; And many a heartfelt sigh and tear,

Hapless youth, shall sooth thy shade.

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• Lighted by the Moon's pale shine,

See me, to thy memory true, Lowly bending at thy shrine,

Many a costive flow'r to strew: But how little do these flow'rs

Prove my love and constancy! Yet a few sad fleeting hours,

And, dear youth, I'll follow thee.

• Rose, replete with scent and hue,

Sweetest flow'r that nature blows, Damon flourish'd once like you;

Now o'er him the green grass grows.

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