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XIV.

MARY'S EVENING SIGH.

BY ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.

1 How bright with pearl the western sky!

How glorious far and wide, Yon lines of golden clouds that lie

So peaceful side by side !
Their deep'ning tints, the arch of light,

All eyes with rapture see;
E’en while I sigh I bless the sight
That lures

my
love from me.

2 Green hill, that shad'st the valley bere,

Thou bear'st upon thy brow The only wealth to Mary dear,

And all she'll ever know.
There, in the crimson light I see,

Above thy summit rise,
My Edward's form, he looks to me
A statue in the skies.

3
Descend, my love, the hour is come,

Why linger on the hill ?
The sun hath left my quiet home,

But thou can'st see him still;

Yet why a lonely wanderer stray,

Alone the joy pursue ?
The glories of the closing day
Can charm thy Mary too.

4
Dear Edward, when we stroll'd along

Beneath the waving corn,
And both confess'd the power of song,

And bless'd the dewy morn,
Your eye o'erflow'd, “How sweet,” you cried,

(My presence then could move) “ How sweet, with Mary by my side

To gaze and talk of love!"

5
Thou art not false! that cannot be;

Yet I my rivals deem
Each woodland charm, the moss, the tree,

The silence, and the stream ;
Whate'er my love, detains thee now,

I'll yet forgive thy stay;
But with to-morrow's dawn come thou,

We'll brush the dews away.

XV.

THE DAMSEL'S LAMENTATION.

1 I once was a maiden, ah, blest was the day !

when
Richard first courted, and told me his

love, I listen’d too fearless to what he'd to say then, My heart was too open,

to move.

Young

too easy

2 He promis'd me marriage,-but why did I hear

him ? Why yield to his suit ere the church mada

us one ? Ah, now he has left me; no charms can endear

him,
He's left me to sorrow, and I am undone.

3 Yet, had he been true to the promise he made

me,

When first he endeavour'd my fond heart to

win, O yet must I say, that he still had betray'd me, Our love, all unsanction'd, commenc'd but

in sin.

4 Ye maidens, attend to the truth I'm declaring, O think nought but marriage can sanction

your love; Ne'er listen to vows,—oft false is love's swear

ing, Be marriage the test the true lover to prove.

5 When two spotless hearts are by marriage united,

Then fair is the prospect, the bond of true love, Then love will increase, nor the wife e'er be

slighted, And Heav’n will the union with blessings

approve.

XVI.

MARY

THE MAID OF BUTTERMERE.

TUNE: Allen Brooke of Windermere.

1
Tho' beauty shone in Mary's face,
In person too a polish'd grace,
Yet I admir'd in Mary most,
The village maid's superior boast,
Since truth and modesty appear
In Mary, maid of Buttermere.

a

2 Tho' servant she at village inn, Full many strove her love to win, Tho'flattery oft would speak her praise, And strive th’unhallow'd flame to raise, Y et such love tales she would not hear The beauteous maid of Buttermere.

3 At length an artful spoiler came, And under fictitious

name, And under honour's specious mask, Her hand in marriage bonds did ask; } She, too incautious, lent an ear, The beauteous maid of Buttermere.

4 Of family and fortune both The spoiler spake,—that he was loth To tell his kindred of his love, Lest they his choice should disapprove; Imprudently she paus’d to hear, The beauteous maid of Butterinere,

5 'Twas told, the marriage rite scarce o'er, The name of wife another bore, The guileless fair one thus betray'd, No longer wife, no longer maid, Abandon'd, see, to sorrow's tear The beauteous maid of Buttermcre.

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