Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) ::

There stood poor Jenny, wat'ry-eyed,
In sorrow on the hillock's side,
In mourning for her cousin dead;
With dark locks by her comely head
And roundly-bending neck, left bare
Above her frock, and lily fair.
For Buckley bells had brought her tears,
Then ringing in her wax-white ears,
Their far-off peal, ding dong, ding dong.
Her shortest days will now be long,
For he she lov'd has dong her wrong.
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.

Still-headed there she set her sight
Upon the beechen groves' dim light,
While peeling with her hand, thought-free,
The crackling bark from some dead tree;

Till when she heard, in louder swells,
The far-off peal of Buckley bells;
And then upon her neck of snow
Her dark-lock'd head with grief hung low,
While they rang on ding dong, ding dong.
Her shortest days will now be long,
For he she loved has done her wrong.
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.

For she had walk'd with him, poor maid,
Word-trusting down that grove's dim shade,
And lov'd him, since she thought him true,
As God had made her heart to do.
And when the bells were flinging wide
The loud-struck peal of some young bride,
Had fancied that she saw the gay
Church-train of her bright wedding-day,
And thought those bells, ding dong, ding dong,
Might sound for her before 'twas long;
Not thinking he she lov'd would wrong
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.

But Robert now has left his old
True-love to wed a wife with gold;
And she, sharp-boned with freckled skin,
And wambling gait, and silly grin,

Has drawn him from his Jenny's face
Of lovely looks, and form of grace,
And soul-bewitching tongue that stirr'd
Our heart's blood with its slightest word.
But he will rue, before 'tis long,
This day's gay peal, ding dong, ding dong.
For his cold heart has done a wrong
To Jane of Buckley-hill.

O grief-bow'd Jenny, wat'ry-eyed
To find thyself thus cast aside,
With no bright day now coming on
To set thy maiden thought upon;
I would thy love could thus have hung
It's hope on me when I was young,
That I might once with joy and pride
Have made thee my true-hearted bride,
In thy own Buckley church, among
Thy friends while bells rang out ding dong.
For I would ne'er have done thee wrong
Young Jane of Buckley-hill.

For thy true love's a thousand fold
More joy-affording than the gold
That with a cold heart thus outweigh'd
Thy loveliness, thou meek-ey'd maid.

But let them seek their gold and miss
In pride the lowly-hearted's bliss;
For God that sees thee from above
Will bring thee yet a truer love,
And wedding peal, ding dong, ding dong.
But happiness ne'er lasted long
With him that did a maiden wrong,
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.

University of Virginia Library

JANE OF BUCKLEY-HILL.