And ravish'd was that constant heart,
She did to ev'ry heart prefer;
For tho' it could its king forget,
'Twas true and loyal still to her.

Amid those unrelenting flames,

She bore this constant heart to see; But when 'twas mould'red into dust, "Now, now," she cry'd, "I'll follow thee.

"My death, my death alone can show
The pure and lasting love I bore:
Accept, O heaven! of woes like ours,
And let us, let us weep no more."

The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retir'd;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And, sighing forth his name, expir❜d.

Tho' justice ever must prevail,

The tear my Kitty sheds is due;
For seldom shall she hear a tale
So sad, so tender, yet so true.

Percy's Reliques.

COLIN AND LUCY.

OF

F Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair,
Bright Lucy was the grace;

Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream
Reflect so fair a face.

Till luckless love and pining care
Impair'd her rosy hue,

Her coral lip, and damask cheek,
And eyes of glossy blue.

Oh! have you seen a lily pale,
When beating rains descend?
So droop'd the slow-consuming maid;
Her life now near its end.

By Lucy warn'd, of flattering swains
Take heed, ye easy fair;

Of vengeance due to broken vows,
Ye perjur'd swains beware.

Three times, all in the dead of night, A bell was heard to ring;

And at her window, shrieking thrice,

The raven flap'd his wing.

Too well the love-lorn maiden knew
That solemn boding sound;
And thus, in dying words, bespoke
The virgins weeping round:

"I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which says I must not stay;

I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away.

"By a false heart, and broken vows, In early youth I die;

Am I to blame, because his bride

Is thrice rich as
as

I?

"Ah Colin! give not her thy vows ;

Vows due to me alone:

Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,
Nor think him all thy own.

"To-morrow in the church to wed,

Impatient, both prepare:

But know, fond maid, and know, false man, That Lucy will be there.

"Then bear my corpse, ye comrades, bear,

The bridegroom blithe to meet;

He in his wedding trim so gay,
I in my winding sheet."

She spoke, she dy'd ;-her corse was borne,
The bridegroom blithe to meet ;
He in his wedding-trim so gay,

She in her winding-sheet.

Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts?
How were those nuptials kept?
The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.

Confusion, shame, remorse, despair,
At once his bosom swell:

The damps of death bedew'd his brow,
He shook, he groan'd, he fell !

From the vain bride (ah, bride no more!)

The varying crimson fled,

When, stretch'd before her rival's corse,

She saw her husband dead.

Then to his Lucy's new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling swains,
One mould with her, beneath one sod,
For ever now remains.

Oft at their grave the constant hind

And plighted maid are seen ;

With garlands gay, and true-love knots,
They deck the sacred green.

But, swain forsworn; whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd spot forbear;
Remember Colin's dreadful fate,

And fear to meet him there.

Percy's Reliques,

MARGARET'S GHOST.

"TWAS at the silent solemn hour,
When night and morning meet;.
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.

Her face was like an April morn,
Clad in a wintry cloud:

And clay-cold was her lily hand,
That held her sable shrowd.

So shall the fairest face appear,
When youth and years are flown:
Such is the robe that kings must wear,
When death has reft their crown.

Her bloom was like the springing flower,
That sips the silver dew;

The rose was budded in her cheek,

Just op'ning to the view.