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His Lady, ever fashionably gay,
Who has not seen the youth imprudent fa', With prospect pleasant in life's morning daw?? And who has not heard Gib's old cronies say, That he would coup some not far distant day? That his short hour of pleasure soon would run, Like midge's flutter in the setting sun ? That poverty would then perhaps restore Some folk to mind that he ance kent before,
Whose turn it then would be, in haughty state,
Far was it now beyond his utmost power,
How changed his manners, and how changed his
he kent not where to run.
Such is the fate that will at length betide The wight, that wont take Prudence for his guide ; Delusive pleasure, like a Siren coy, He finds at last, sings only to destroy.
Yon maid have you witness’d, with countenance pale,
That o'er the wild common does flee?
Of the tomb by the green willow tree.
Ah! passenger, doubt not the truth of these strains ;
The wild-looking maniac in view,
She ever to Allen was true.
To school as they went, hand in hand, by the way
He often proclaimed her his wife; The villagers, smiling to see them, did say, “ That they would together, on some distant day,
Be joined in wedlock for life.”
But Ah! the wise Power that fixes the doom
Of mortals, forebade it to be;
Is raised by the green willow tree.
The sorrow, which suddenly seiz'd on her soul,
Was boundless and wild as the wave; Each night, though appalld by the wild screaming owl, Though winds through the old ruin'd chapel did howl,
She went and she wept by his grave.
Alone to the churchyard, so wild and so drear,
Her friends still forbade her to go; But grief in her bosom was stronger than fear : Her words were, “ All pleasure is gone from me here,
Than life I have no other foe."