Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And ev'ry care resign:

And shall we never, never part,
My life my all that's mine?

No, never from this hour to part,
We'll live and love so true;

The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
Shall break thy Edwin's too.

COLIN AND LUCY.

OF

[By Tickell.]

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

Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream

Reflect a fairer face.

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

Her coral lips, her damask cheeks,
And eyes of glossy blue.

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

By Lucy warn'd, of flatt'ring swains

Take heed, ye easy fair!

Of vengeance due to broken vows,
Ye perjured swains, beware!

Three times all in the dead of night,
A bell was heard to ring;
And shrieking at her window thrice,
The raven flapp'd her wing.

Too well the love-lorn maiden knew
The solemn-boding sound,
And thus in dying words bespoke,
The maidens 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:

Was I to blame, because the bride-
Is twice as rich as I?

Ah, Colin, give not her thy vows,
Vows due to me alone!

Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,
And 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 corse, ye comrades dear,

The bridegroom blithe to meet;

He in his wedding trim so gay,

I in my winding sheet !

She spoke and died, her corse was borne, The bridegroom blithe to meet ;

He in his wedding-trim so gay,

She in her winding sheet.

Oh! 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.

Compassion, shame, remorse, despair,

At once his bosom swell:

The damps of death bedew'd his brows,
He shook, he groan'd, he fell.

From the vain bride, a bride no more, The varying crimson fled;

When, stretch'd beside her rival's corse, She saw her husband dead.

He 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 this place 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 hallowed spot forbear! Remember Colin's dreadful fate,

And fear to meet him there.

WILLIAM AND MARGARET.

[By Mallet.]

WHEN all was wrapt in dark midnight
And all were fast asleep,
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 shroud.

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 opening to the view.

But love had, like the canker worm,
Consum'd her early prime ;

The rose grew pale, and left her cheek,
She died before her time.