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Too well the love-lorn maiden knew

The folemn boding found:
And thus, in dying words, bespoke
The virgins weeping round:
"I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which fays, I must not stay;
I fee 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 his bride
Was thrice as rich as I?

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

Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kifs,
Nor think him all thy own.
To-morrow, in the church to wed,
Impatient, both prepare!

But know, fond maid, and know, falfe man,
That Lucy will be there!

Then bear my corse, ye comrades dear,

This bridegroom blithe to meet;

He in his wedding trim so gay,

I in my winding-sheet."

She spoke, the dy'd; her corfe was borne,

The bridegroom blithe to meet,

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Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts?
How were these nuptials kept?

The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.

Compaffion, fhame, remorfe, defpair,

At once his bofom fwell :

The damps of death bedew'd his brow;
He groan'd, he fhook, he fell.
From the vain bride, ah bride no more!
The varying crimson fled,

When, ftretch'd befide her rival's corfe,
She faw her husband dead.
He to his Lucy's new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling fwains,

In the fame mould, beneath one fod,
For ever now remains.

Oft, at this place, the conftant hind,

And plighted maid are feen;

With garlands gay, and true-love knots,
They deck the facred green.
But, fwain forfworn, whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd ground forbear;
Remember Colin's dreadful fate,

And fear to meet him there.

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EDWIN AND EM M A.

FA

AR in the windings of a vale,
Faft by a sheltering wood,

The fafe retreat of health and peace,
A humble cottage ftood.

There beauteous EMMA flourish'd fair

Beneath a mother's eye,
Whose only wish on earth was now
To see her bleft, and die.

The foftest blush that nature spreads
Gave colour to her cheek;

Such orient colour fmiles thro' heav'n
When May's fweet mornings break.

Nor let the pride of great ones fcorn
This charmer of the plains;

That fun which bids their diamond blaze,

To deck our lily deigns.

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Long had the fir'd each youth with love,

Each maiden with despair;

And tho' by all a wonder own'd,

Yet knew not fhe was fair:

Till EDWIN came, the pride of fwains,
A foul that knew no art,

And from whofe eyes ferenely mild,
Shone forth the feeling heart.

A mutual flame was quickly caught,
Was quickly too reveal'd;
For neither bofom lodg'd a wish,
Which virtue keeps conceal'd.

What happy hours of heartfelt blifs
Did love on both beftow!

But blifs too mighty long to laft,
Where fortune proves a foe.

His fifter, who like Envy form'd,
Like her in mifchief joy'd,

To work them harm, with wicked skill

Each darker art employ'd.

The

The father too, a fordid man,

Who love nor pity knew,
Was all unfeeling as the rock
From whence his riches grew.

Long had he feen their mutual flame,
And feen it long unmov'd;
Then with a father's frown at last,
He fternly disapprov❜d.

In EDWIN's gentle heart a war
Of differing paffions ftrove;
His heart which durft not disobey,
Yet could not ceafe to love.

Deny'd her fight, he oft behind
The fpreading hawthorn crept,
To fnatch a glance, to mark the spot
Where EMMA walk'd and wept.

Oft too in Stanemore's wintry waste,
Beneath the moonlight fhade,

In fighs to pour his foften'd foul
The midnight mourner ftray'd.

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