XVII. 97. Elegy on the Thirty-first of December Anon. Anon. Miss Holcroft. Anon, Anon. a XIX. 110. Lenora Bürger. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVII. Coombe. Hurdis. .XXVLII.. 138. Elegy: Written on the Plain of Fontenoy" Matilda. 143. Soliloquy on my Last Six-pence . Anon. WHO THO is she, the poor maniac, whose wildly-fix’d eyes The composure of settled distress. Cold and hunger awake not her care : Has the deathly pale hue of despair. Poor Mary, the maniac, has been; The trav’ller remembers, who journey'd this way, As Mary, the Maid of the Inn, As she welcom'd them in with a smile; When the wind whistled down the dark aisle. And she hop'd to be happy for life; knew him would pity poor Mary, and say That she was too good for his wife. 'Twas in autumn, and stormy and dark was the night, And fat were the windows and door; They liften’d to hear the wind roar. “ 'Tis pleasant," cry'd one, “ feated by the fire-side, " To hear the wind whistle without." “ A fine night for the abbey,” his comrade reply'd. “ Methinks a man's courage would now be well try'd, " Who should wander the ruins about. " I myself, like a school-boy, should tremble to hear “ The hoarse ivy shake over my head; “ And could fancy I saw, half persuaded by fear, “ Some ugly old abbot's white fpirit appear; “ For this wind might awaken the dead." “ I'll wager a dinner," the other one cry'd, “ That Mary would venture there now !" “ Then wager and lose !" with a sneer he reply'd, " I'll warrant she'd fancy a ghost by her side, 16 And faint if the saw a white cow." “ Will Mary this charge on her courage allow ?” His companion exclaim'd with a smile; “ I shall win, for I know she will venture there now, “ And earn a new bonnet, by bringing a bough “ From the alder that grows in the aisle.” |
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