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Oft at their grave the conftant hind
And plighted maid are seen ; With garlands gay, and true-love knots,
They deck the sacred green.
But, fwain forsworn, whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd spot forbear ; Remember Colin's dreadful fate,
And fear to meet him there.
* In a comedy of Fletcher, called The Knight of the burning Peftle, old Merry-Thought enters repeating the following verses :
When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast aseep,
And stood at Williani's feet.
This was, probably, the beginning of some ballad, commonly known, at the time when that autlor wrote ; and is all of it, I believe, that is any where to be met with. These lines, naked of ornament and simple as they are, struck my fancy: and, bringing frejh into my mind an unhappy adventure, much talked of formerly, gave birth to the following poem ; which was written maily years ago.
When night and morning meet ;
And stood at WILLIAM's feet.
When youth and years are flown :
When death has reft their crown).
That fips the filver dew;
Just opening to the view.
Consum'd her early prime :
She'dy'd before her time.
Come from her midnight grave;
Thy Love refus'd to fave.
When injur'd ghosts complain ;
To haunt the faithlefs swain.
Thy pledge and broken oath :
And give me back my
And not that promise keep?
my eyes were bright, Yet leave those eyes to weep?
yet that face forsake ?
Yet leave that heart to break ?
And made the scarlet pale?
Believe the flattering tale?
Thofe lips no longer red :
And every charm is fled.
This winding sheet I wear :
Till that last morn appear.
A long and late adieu !
Who dy'd for love of you.
The lark fung loud ; the morning smild,
With beams of rosy red :
And raving left his bed.
XVI. He hy'd him to the fatal place
Where Margaret's body lay : And stretch'd him on the green grass turf,
That wrap'd her breathless clay.
XVII. And thrice he callid on Margaret's name,
And thrice he wept full sore : Then laid his cheek to her cold
grave, And word spoke never more !