Ellen Gray or, The dead maiden's curse. A poem, by the late Dr. Archibald Macleod [i.e. W. L. Bowles] |
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 | Ellen Gray |  |
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Thro' the long grass, sees a dim form arise,
(Its wan lips moving, in its hand a book,)
And hie in glimmering moonlight to the brook.
So, like a bruised flower, when in the pride
Of youth and beauty, injur'd Ellen died.
Hubert some years surviv'd, but years no trace
Of his sick heart's deep anguish could erase.
Still the dread spectre seem'd to rise, and, worse,
Still in his ears rung the appalling curse,
(While loud he cries, despair upon his look,)
“Oh! shut the book, dear Ellen, shut the book!”
| Ellen Gray | |