The book of British ballads . M. Ward del. F. Branston sc. Till luckless love and pining care Impaird her rosy hue,Her coral lip, and damask cheek, And eyes of glossy blue. Oh! have you seen a lily pale,When beating rains descend ? So droopd the slow-consuming maid ;Her life now near its end. By Lucy warnd, of nattering swains Take heed, ye easy fair:Of vengeance due to broken vows, Ye perjured swains beware. Three times, all in the dead of night,A bell was heard to ring; And at her window, shrieking thrice,The raven flappd his wing. Too well the love-lorn maiden knewThe solemn boding sound; A
The book of British ballads . M. Ward del. F. Branston sc. Till luckless love and pining care Impaird her rosy hue,Her coral lip, and damask cheek, And eyes of glossy blue. Oh! have you seen a lily pale,When beating rains descend ? So droopd the slow-consuming maid ;Her life now near its end. By Lucy warnd, of nattering swains Take heed, ye easy fair:Of vengeance due to broken vows, Ye perjured swains beware. Three times, all in the dead of night,A bell was heard to ring; And at her window, shrieking thrice,The raven flappd his wing. Too well the love-lorn maiden knewThe solemn boding sound; And thus, in dying words, bespokeThe virgins weeping round. I hear a voice you cannot hear,Which says, I must not stay: I see a hand you cannot see,Which beckons me away. £ By a false heart, and broken vows, In early youth I I to blame, because his bride Is thrice as rich as I ? Ah Colin! give not her thy vows; Vows due to me alone :Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss, Nor think him all thy own. 264 ©olm antr B. M. Ward del. F. Branston sc. To-morrow in the church to wed, Impatient, both prepare ;But know, fond maid, and know, false man, That Lucy will be there. 4 Then, bear my corse, ye comrades, bear,The bridegroom blithe to meet; He in his wedding-trim so gay,I in my winding sheet. She spoke, she died;—her corse was borne,The bridegroom blithe to meet; He in his weclding-trim so gay,She in her winding-sheet. Then what were perjured Colins thoughts ? How were those nuptials kept ?The bride-men flockd round Lucy dead, And all the village wept. Confusion, shame, remorse, despair, At once his bosom swell:The damps of death bedewd his brow, He shook, he groand, he fell. From the vain bride (ah, bride no more!) The varying crimson fled,When, stretchd before her rivals corse, She saw her husband dead. Then to his Lucys new-made grave,Conveyd by trembling swains, One mould with her, beneath one sod,For ever he remains. Oft at their grave the constant hind And plig
Size: 923px × 2707px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow
