COLIN AND LUCY.
By the Same.
I
Of Leinster fam'd for maidens fair,
Bright Lucy was the grace;
Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream
Reflect a fairer face;
II
'Till luckless love and pining care
Impair'd her rosy hue,
Her dainty lip, her damask cheek,
And eyes of glossy blue.
III
Ah! have you seen a lily pale
When beating rains descend?
So droop'd this slow-consuming maid,
Her life now near its end.
IV
By Lucy warn'd, of flatt'ring swains
Take heed, ye easy fair;
Of vengeance due to broken vows,
Ye flatt'ring swains beware!
V
Three times all in the dead of night,
A bell was heard to ring;
And at her window shrieking thrice,
The raven flap'd his wing.
VI
Full well the love-lorn maiden knew
The solemn boding sound,
And thus in dying words bespake
The virgins weeping round.
VII
“I hear a voice you cannot hear,
“That cries, I must not stay;
“I see a hand you cannot see,
“That beckons me away.
VIII
“Of a false swain and broken heart,
“In early youth I die;
“Am I to blame, because the bride
“Is twice as rich as I?
IX
“Ah, Colin, give not her thy vows,
“Vows due to me alone!
“Nor thou, rash girl, receive his kiss,
“Nor think him all thy own!
X
“To-morrow in the church to wed
“Impatient both prepare:
“But know, false man, and know, fond maid,
“Poor Lucy will be there.
XI
“Then bear my corse, ye comrades dear,
“The bridegroom blithe to meet;
“He in his wedding-trim so gay,
“I in my winding sheet.”
XII
She spake, she dy'd, her corse was borne,
The bridegroom blithe to meet;
He in his wedding trim so gay,
She in her winding sheet.
XIII
What then were Colin's dreadful thoughts;
How were these nuptials kept?
The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.
XIV
Compassion, shame, remorse, despair,
At once his bosom swell:
The damps of death bedew'd his brow,
He groan'd, he shook, he fell.
XV
From the vain bride, a bride no more,
The varying crimson fled;
When, stretch'd beside her rival's corse,
She saw her lover dead.
XVI
He to his Lucy's new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling swains,
In the same mould, beneath one sod,
For-ever now remains.
XVII
Oft at this place the constant hind
And plighted maid are seen;
With garlands gay, and true-love knots
They deck the sacred green.
XVIII
But, swain forsworn, who'er thou art,
This hallow'd ground forbear!
Remember Colin's dreadful fate,
And fear to meet him there.