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 |  |
Near the “hoar” mount, by Marazion's shore,
Where, from the west, Atlantic surges roar,
Where once, above the solitary main,
The mighty vision sat, and look'd to Spain ,
He liv'd, a lonely stranger, sad, but mild;
All mark'd the sadness, chiefly when he smil'd;
Some competence he gain'd, by years of toil:
So, in a cottage, on his native soil,
He dwelt, remote from crowds, nor told his tale
To human ear: he saw the white clouds sail
O'er the bright bay, when suns of summer shone,
And oft he wander'd, mutt'ring and alone.
He never went to church, where he might hear
The judgment-psalm, so harrowing to his ear:
The Bible on the window-seat was laid,
He wept upon it, and in secret pray'd;
But never join'd the social sabbath bands,
That to St. Paul's pass'd o'er the whit'ning sands.
Where, from the west, Atlantic surges roar,
Where once, above the solitary main,
The mighty vision sat, and look'd to Spain ,
He liv'd, a lonely stranger, sad, but mild;
All mark'd the sadness, chiefly when he smil'd;
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So, in a cottage, on his native soil,
He dwelt, remote from crowds, nor told his tale
To human ear: he saw the white clouds sail
O'er the bright bay, when suns of summer shone,
And oft he wander'd, mutt'ring and alone.
He never went to church, where he might hear
The judgment-psalm, so harrowing to his ear:
The Bible on the window-seat was laid,
He wept upon it, and in secret pray'd;
But never join'd the social sabbath bands,
That to St. Paul's pass'd o'er the whit'ning sands.
| Ellen Gray | |