Her head was crown'd with willows, That tremble o'er the brook. Twelve months are gone and over, And nine long, tedious days, And let my lover rest: The merchant robb'd of pleasure, Sees tempests in despair; To losing of my dear? But none that loves you so. Should hideous rocks remain ? No eyes the rocks discover, That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover, And leave the maid to weep. All melancholy lying, Thus wail'd she for her dear; Repaid each blast with sighing, Each billow with a tear; When, o'er the white wave stooping, His floating corpse she spied; Then like a lily drooping, She bow'd her head and died. JEAN. JOHN GAY. OF a' the airts the wind can blaw For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best; There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between, But day and night my fancy's flight i see her in the dewy flowers, I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air; Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline; The music, yearning like a god in pain, She scarcely heard; her maiden eyes divine, Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train Pass by-she heeded not at all; in vain That ancient beadsman heard the prelude Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, soft; And so it chanced, for many a door was wide, From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft, And back retired; not cool'd by high disdain, But she saw not; her heart was otherwhere; The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest chide; The level chambers, ready with their pride, of the year. VIII. Were glowing to receive a thousand She danced along with vague, regardless On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care, Had come young Porphyro, with heart on As she had heard old dames full many times declare. fire For Madeline. Beside the portal doors, Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, Flit like a ghost away!"—"Ah, gossip dear. Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro! hie thee from this place; As spectacled she sits in chimney-nook. They are all here to-night, the whole But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she bloodthirsty race! XII. told His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook “ Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Tears, at the thought of those enchant Hildebrand; He had a fever late, and in the fit He cursed thee and thine, both house and land: ments cold, And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old. XVI. Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not Sudden a thought came like a full-blown a whit More tame for his gray hairs-Alas me! rose Flushing his brow, and in his painèd |