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 |  |
Feebly he rose,—when, on the matted hair
Of a drown'd maid, and on her bosom bare,
The sun shone out; and, 'mid the sedges green,
Poor Ellen's cold and floating corse was seen.
“Merciful God!” with faltering voice he cries,
“Hide me! oh, hide me from the sight! Those eyes—
“They glare on me! oh, hide me with the dead!
“The curse—the deep curse rests upon my head!”
Of a drown'd maid, and on her bosom bare,
The sun shone out; and, 'mid the sedges green,
Poor Ellen's cold and floating corse was seen.
“Merciful God!” with faltering voice he cries,
“Hide me! oh, hide me from the sight! Those eyes—
“They glare on me! oh, hide me with the dead!
“The curse—the deep curse rests upon my head!”
| Ellen Gray | |