The bard of the dales :: :: University of Virginia Library

She wept, but she told not the cause of her grief,
As she wander'd alone to the well;
And where she might go for substantial relief,
There was none in that house for to tell.

Her friends, they were strictly moral and kind,
But their spiritual eye was dim;
Yet their goodness but seldom reached, we find,
Beyond those that were kind to them.

To a neighbouring Church thy had gone for years,
To all other means were averse;
Unaccustom'd to the flood of repentant tears
They appeared neither better nor worse.

In that path to the well she so blythe and gay,
Oft by the passers by was seen;
As a path to the village along side lay,
And a clipp'd thorn hedge between.

She was noticed oft, as to woman she grew,
While the village she walked alone;
Where country breezes so healthy blew,
For the charms that around her shone.

109

Her eye was serene as the stars of the night,
Her form neither high nor low;
Her cheeks with the tints of health shone bright,
And her bosom was like the snow.

No needless robe her fancy prefers,
No rings nor gems adorn;
For those who possess a form like hers,
May such needless objects scorn.

That form was the image of woman complete,
So industrious her design;
Where she oft was singing with a voice so sweet,
Some part of a theme divine!

From the back door to young men she often spake,
While scouring the dish or can;
But her young free heart was not well awake,
To the wicked designs of man!

One look'd on her with unhallow'd desire,
And a snare for her soul he laid;
Her charms in his bosom had kindled a fire,
While he those charms survey'd.

To tell her just then he said he had not the power,
What the beatings of his heart did mean,
But he'd tell her if she'd meet him at a certain hour,
At Nancy's across the green.

He whisper'd in her ear false flattering words,
Which she too fondly believ'd;
But he kept conceal'd those dark records,
Of the numbers he had deceiv'd.

110

To a neighbouring party she asked to go,
Where the youth so genteelly behav'd;
Quite unsuspicious of her darling foe,
She yielded up the gem he crav'd

That time when she knelt by her mother's death bed,
She, alas! recollected not,—
The promises she made, and tears that were shed,
At that gay hour were forgot.

From that time her lustre began for to fade,
Henceforth she is seldom seen;
With foot so light, and heart void of care,
Tripping lively over the green!

She sought for redress but none received,
Though many did pity her case;
Her harp was broke, her melody ceas'd,
And a cloud hung over that place.

Five moons had scarce their influence shed,
When the cause of her grief was seen;
As slowly she pac'd (but the youth was fled,)
To Nancy's across the green.

She was missing until late one afternoon,
The can was found at the well;
Inquiry ran from town to town,
But of seeing her none could tell.

In one thousand eight hundred and thirty-three,
In the autumn of that year;
The inquest was held and verdict will be,
Found drown'd in the great river Wear.