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All night the silence seems to flow
When Norland winds pipe down the sea,
THEY shot him dead on the Nine-Stone Rig,
Beside the Headless Cross,
Upon the moor and moss.
They made a bier of the broken bough,
The sauch and the aspin gray,
And waked him there all day.
A lady came to that lonely bower,
And threw her robes aside;
She tore her ling (long) yellow hair,
And knelt at Barthram's side.
She bathed him in the Lady-Well
His wounds so deep and sair,
And a garland for his hair.
They rowed him in a lily sheet,
And bare him to his earth, And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's mass
As they passed the Chapel Garth.
They buried him at the mirk midnight,
When the dew fell cold and still, When the aspin gray forgot to play,
And the mist clung to the hill.
They dug his grave but a bare foot deep,
By the edge of the Nine-Stone Burn, And they covered him o'er with the heather-flower
The moss and the Lady fern.
A Gray Friar stayed upon the grave,
And sang till the morning tide,
THE YOUNG MAY MOON
The young May moon is beaming, love,
How sweet to rove
Through Morna's grove When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! the heavens look bright, my dear ; 'T is never too late for delight, my dear;
And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Now all the world is sleeping, love,
And I, whose star,
More glorious far,
Or, in watching the flight
Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear.
ON A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB
OF GOLDFISHES 1
’T was on a lofty vase's side
Her conscious tail her joy declared :
Still had she gazed, but ’midst the tide
The hapless Nymph with wonder saw .
1 Note 18.
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent,
Eight times emerging from the flood,
From hence, ye Beauties ! undeceived,
A., County Guy ! the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The breeze is on the sea.
Sits hushed his partner nigh ;
But where is County Guy?