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Containing a choice Collection of 


Fhe Blrken Tree f Btti^e Donmra 

Pr^t|^lae-|Syed Mary 
Poor Wamic Mary 
Thomas Clulterbuck and 

Polly Hig^nbottom 
Mary the Maid of the Inn 

fonnf ^ Lafs of Bannachie 
forklhireman in London 
Jritannia, or the Death 

of General Wolfe 
The Chapter on Pockets 
The World's a Stage 
Steady (he Goes 

Printed by J. Marfliall, 
In the Old Flefc-Market, Newcaftlt ; 
Where may alfo be bad^ a large and curims JJortrMmf 
of Songs y BalMs, Tahs HuUrusyi^e^ 


LASS, gin ye wad think it right. 
To giang wV n|e this very night. 
And tixdme till the ihoraing light, 
By a' tllfe iav^ tirifeen* 
And ye fhall be my deary, My ain deareft deary. 
And ye fliall be my ^eary, Gi^ ye'U meet me at e'e 

I darena for my mammy gae. 
She locks the dpor kq4 k^eps the key, 
Aud e'en and morn (he chkrg^s me, 
And ay about the m6n ;^ 
She says they're a' deceivers. Deceivers, deceiversj 
3be says they're a- deceivqrs— n^^dna truft to an 

But, laffie, what's to hinder thee, 

To ft^al ail honi^ ont o'^r thie ]«^^ I 

An' meet me at the Birken Tree, 

You'll no be mift at hame ; 
And never mind your mammy, Your auld canker'! 


And never mind your "mammy, or else jou'll Ire yot 
lane. ' 

She fin^ply (aid, I difina ken> 
My mother trots baith but aiid ben> 
An' if (he hears I'm wi' thp men, ; ; fF 
She'ii afk me where I've. beeU;;:, ' ' 
^hen what can I Jay, jLaddie ? Laddie laddie^ 
Then what can I fay. Laddie, for being outate'«ni 

O never mind yoiir Mammy's yell, 
I'll warnt (he's met your dad herfel ; 
An' 'fcould fe fiy te ye may her tell, 
She's often done iht same, 
So laffie gie^^- yonr hand on't, your bonny milk whit 
band on't, 

So laffie gieVj your hand on't, aH- fcorn to lie your lane 

O lad, my hand I canna gie, 
But aiblins I m5ty fteal the! key, 
An' meet you^at the Birken Tree^ 
That (lands ay ont the glen ; .1;^ , 
But dinna lippen, Laiidie, i canna pramife, L 
So dinna Ilppen/Laddiey for fear 1 dirtcia'W ' ^ 

Well, well,, pfiy clear, (i^j^M^^n^t), 
But ihould'this mght be foul or ifairr^V 
Mind Jeani^; la^H ' you'll find liie tfe^ ' ^ 
That's at Birken Tre^;i ^ ^ • 'JibsIk) 
So now good day, my deary, My aln-^m^ft deary, 
So now good day, my deary^ a,nd -j|Undrk$^at I*fe 
faid t'ye. 

Now he^s gane to thci Birken /Free^ ' ^ i O'i 
Jn. hopes hi§, lover th(^F^ to iee.j : / - ;/J 
And toon came tripping o'er the lea,, . 
His f\^eet ehdearing Jean,' , / , 

lAnd file clinkit down beside him, tiesMe hlm^ 1)e» 
lide hiniv • . ; ■ ^- - ^ ' ■ ^ < ^ - ^ •> "''^ ; 

She clinkit down befide him, upoa thegmfefa grfe^ 

I'm overjoy'd with raptures now,',' 
j . Cry'd he arid prde'd her dierry Inbu' ; 
i And Jeanie's ne'er had caufe rue 
4 ; The nigh jt upo^- the green^ii j 
for Qie has got her Jamie^ heiv fweet dear ^^1^^ 

Jamife-, . ^ : : ,^ J 

:For file has got hei*' Jamie, and Jamje^'s gct^^h^^^^ 

The Benny ^ Lass, fif Bannachie. . 

ONCE I lov'd a lady Mr, 
She was a beauty, i declare, 
The only flower of the north couhtr j*^ 
That bonny Lass of Bannachie. 


She being heirefs of houfes and landg, bt 
And I alone a poor farmer's son, to 
It was her birth and high degree 
That parted my true love and me. 

I lov'd this lady in my heart, 
Againft our wills it was to part, 
For fhradorM iiie as her life. 
In priv^.te we were man and wife, Itn 

Great knights and fquires a courtirltw 
' ilcatne 

Unto this Mr ind lovely dame ; 
But all their offers proved in vain. 
For none her favour could obtain. 

But when her father came to know> 
How that I lovM his daughter fo. 
Be, Judas like, betrayed me. 
For keeping of her company. 

It was at Aiurain that I was ta'en^ 
A prisoner for lady Jane ; 
In fetters llrong then I was bound. 
And carried into Aberdeen. 

It's not their frowns that I do mind. 
Nor yet the way that I've to go ; 
But love has pierc'd my tender heart, 
And alas ! it*s brought me very low. 

I was embarked at the (hore. 
Never tcviee my native more. 
In Germany a foldier to be. 
All for the Lass of B^nnachie. 

But when I was upon the feas, 
1 ne*er could take a moment's eafc, 


For fhe was daily in my mind, 
That bonny Lass 1 left behind. 
1^ When I arrived ir the foreign land^ 
prom my true love a letter came, 
With her refpects, in each degree. 
Signed by the Lafs of Bannachie. 

The anfwer which to her I sent, 
It never to my true-love went ; 
It was h^r cruel father then, 
Tpld her that I abroad was flain. 

Which grievM this lady's heart full fore, 
To think that we fhould ne'er meet more j 
This caused her to weep moft bitterly, 
Thefe tidings from high Germany. 
! O daughter, dear, thy tears refrain. 
To weep for him it is in vain ; 
I have a better match for thee. 
To enjoy the lands of Bannachie. 
■ He was the hufband of my youth, 
Jn pledge he had my faiih and truth ; 
1 made a vow, and I'll wed with none, 
Since my true-love is from me gone. 

On every finger (he put a ring, 
On her mid finger (he put three ; 
And fbe's away to high Germany, 
In hopes her true-love there to fee. 

She's put on her robes of green. 
Which were comely to be feen ; 
P had he been crowned king, 
This fair lady might have been his queen. 


But when fhe came' to high Germany, ' 
By fortune there Ihe her love did fee, ^ 
Upon yon iofty ratri^art wall, ^ W 

As he was ftandiilg fehtry/ 

O were my love in this country,- ^ ^^"^ 
O I could fwear that yon was flie ; ! 
I'or there^s not a face in High Germany, 
So like the laks of Bannachie 

The firft file met was the^Gr>ionel then, 
And he addreffed her m^^ii cdurteb^^ 
From whence ihe came and whither bound 
Her name, and frdrii what country. 

From fliir Scotland, (he faid, 1 came, 
In hopes my true-^ove here to fee j 
But now I hear, he*s a grenadier. 
In your honour's company. ^ 

What's thy love's name, thou coniely 
O, lady fair, come teii me then ; [dame 
For, it's a pity thy fove should be 
In the ftation of a single man. 

William Graham is my love's name. 
All this hardship he suffers for me ; 
But if it cofls me thoiisands ten. 
He a fingle man no more fliali be. 

O, lady fair, come along with me, 
And thy true-love thou (oon £hall fee ; 
'Tis for your fake, a vow I make. 
He a fmgle man no tnore (hall be. 

Young Billy Graham was called on then 
His true-love once more to fee ; 
But when he faw her weel-farM face^ 
O the fait tear^ blinded his e'e. 



You're welcome here, my dearefl dear^ 
You're thrice welcome here to me ; 
For there's not a face To full of grace. 
In all the lands of Germany. 

With kiffes fweet did thofe lovers meet, 
Moft joyfully, as I am told, 
Sh?fs changed his drefs, from worfted lace. 
To the crimfon fcarlet triaim'd with gold. 

But when the father came to find 
That his daughter, flie abroad was gone, 
He sent a letter on exprefs. 
It was to call thefe two lovers home. 

To him he gave a free difcharge. 
All for the fake of lady Jane ; 
And now we hear he'$ a wealthy fquire, 
And lives on his lands in Aberdeen. 

And now behold how fortune turns 
Her father's wrath to amity ; 
And now he lives in fweet content, 
With the bonny lafs of Bannachie, ^ 

The Torkjhireman in London* 

OH ! gentlefolk, what do you think ? 
Oh ! where do you think I ha' been ? 
I'm (ure I fhail ne'er fleep a wink, 

I'fe fo pleas'd with the fights 1 ha' feen : 
It grows very late, you'll all lay, 

And it s time w^e were all garigMto becL 
But my feet carried me to the piay. 
And I can't get it out. of my head* 

Sing tol de roi^ &c. 


Ddzooks ! wKat a nation fine place ! 

And what waundy fine people go there ; 
I was never before in fuch case, 

For I didn't know which way to ftare ! 
On one fide I fee*d the gay beaux. 

On t'other the ladies fo fair ! 
Who, Fm fure, take no pride in their 

For they fcarce provide any to wear 1 
Tol de rol, &c. 

But as foon as the play was begun, 

Which they callM the— Bold ftrok&for a 

I was up to my elbows i' fun. 

Such I ne*er fee'd before i' my life ; 

For the Quakers, they ftuck up fo prim, 
So humble, yet fo full of pride ! 

So folemn, yet fo full of whim, 
"^rhat wi' laughing I thought Td ha' died. 

Tol de rol, &c. 

In the farce of the — Devil to Pay^ 

Mifter Jobfon, a huge clever chap, 
Made his wife every order obey. 

By the power of his wonderful ftrap ! 
So 1 find them that wander and roam, 

Learn fomething from all that they fee; 
1*11 {peak to our cobbler at whoam. 

And get him to make one for me ! 

Tol de rol, kc. 


Now Fm com*d to the end o* my ftory, 

I reckon it's time to gi'e o 'er, 
Tho* I'd like you to hear what a wopry. 

And fcrawging th^y made at the door ; 
Yet to tell you the whole of the rout. 

It's too late in the night to begin ; 
So to cut my tale fliort — I*m com'd out ; 

But the devil knows how I got in ! 

Sing tol de rol, &c. 

Britannia^ or the Diaih of General Wolfe* 

IN a mouldering cave, a wretched retreat, 
Britannia fat wasted with care : 
She wept for her Wolfe, then exclaim'd 
againft Fate, 
And gave herfelf up to defpair. 
The walls of her cell,' (he had fculptur'd 

With the exploits of her favourite Ion j 
Nay, even the duft, as it lay on the ground. 
Was engrav'd with fome deeds he had 

The fire of the God, from his cryftalline 
Beheld the difconfolate dame, [throne. 
And, mov'd with her tears^ fent Mercury 

And thefe were the tidings that came : 
Britannia, forbear, not a figh nor a tear. 
For thy Wolfe, fo defervedly lov'd; 
Thy grief fliall be changed into tumults of 

For Wolfe is not dead^ but r^piov'd^ 


The fons of the ^arth, the proud dants 

' ^-^^ " of Oid,.: r . ' 

HavjEi /leji froni their ^^arkfome abodes ; 
An^,.fticii is the: news that in heaven is told, 
Th^^ |Lre ma|;ching to war with the gods, 
A council was held in the chamber of Jove, 

|]% was tKd^^ 
T^at Wplle fliould be caU'd to the arnay 

And the charge was entrufted to me. 
" 1^ the plains^of Ouebeck with the orders 
- I flew, 

Wolfe begg'd for a< xnoment's delay : 
Hfe cryM, Oh ! forbear^let me victory hear, 

And then thy commands Fll obey/' 
With a darkening film I encompafsM his 
; icyes, . 
And bore him away in an urn, 
Left the fondnefs he bore for his own na« 
: five fhore. 
Might tempt him again to retuni. 

The Chapter on PockMs. 

OH ! long life to the girls who revive, without 

The mode of our darling origiaal mother ; 

For. Eve was as ilraight as the flicks of fky-rockets, 

And firsti fet the falhion of weaiing no pockets. 

Then ladies go cool, don't care & fplinter 
For eafterly winds or a hard frofty winter ; 
With a petticoat loofe, genteelly and clever, 
Then flannel be d— d, and the ague for ever. 


Vllftrefs Eve, who with paaniers her fides wou'dn't 

^ever th caught of a poclcet to hold in her daddle ; 
By my foul, the invention is quite :handy and fenfible, 
3o blefs ev'ry ladf 'e fweet indispenfible. 

Then ladies go coo!, &c. 

From Cork Paddy came, and the Engli& defin'd 

As wearing his coat natdy buttoned behind him ; 
Tit for tat, Englifli girl% the Pats all adore ye, 
Then pray vifit Cork, with your pockets before ye. 

Then ladies go cool^i &c. 

For one of our boroughs, not free from iafection, 
Should a lady fet up, at a general election ; 
With pockets in hand, and the mopuffes in it, 
Oh, flie'd be at the head qf the poll in a minute. 

Then ladies go cool, 6ec. 

The great Triftram Shandy, and no one/was apter, 
Once threatened oh pockets to write a big chapter ; 
My chapter on pockets I give har^m fkarum, 
So, blefs the dear creatures, however they wear them. 

Then ladies go cool, don't care a fplintet. 
For man muft adore ye both fammer and winter ; 
Sweet are your fmiles in all changes of weather, 
So blefs all your faces and pockets together. 

The World" I a Stage. 

THIS world's a ftage 
On which mankiad engage. 
And each apts his part in the throng j 
But all is contufion. 
Mere folly, delulion. 
And, faith, nothing elfe but a fong, 

A fong, a f — -g. 

And, faith, nothing elfe but a fong. 


The parfon fo grave. 

Says your foul he will fave. 
And points the right way from the wrong 

After pioufly teaching, 

And long-winded preaching, 
He puts off hi^^ fleck with a fong, &c. 

The doctor you he fills. 

With bolus and pills. 
With aflurance to make you live long ; 

But believe me, ^tis true. 

The guinea*s in view, 
And the reft is all but a fong, &c. 

The furgeon fo bold. 

His lancets doth hold. 
And llaflies your body along ; 

Small wounds he enlarges, 

To fwell up your charges. 
His art like the reft is a fong, &c. 

The foldier he rattles. 

Of fieges and battles. 
And actions that he*s been among ; 

His preferment and fpirit, 

Are both like his merit, 
Y ou fee they are brought to a fong, &c. 

The matter he cries. 

See the clouds how they rife. 
Up aloft, my brilk lads, it blows flrong ; 

Boys make us fome flip. 

And Til warrant the fhip 
Will foon reach her port in his fong, &c* 

VersM in quirks and in quibbks. 

The lawyer he fcribbles, 
And moves his mellifluous tongue, 

'Twixt demur and vacation, 

He*d raife expectation. 
Then fink your eftate to a fong, &c. 

The merchant is bent 

On his twent per cent. 
To him journal and ledger belong ; 

Com million with charges. 

His profit enlarges. 
Till his balance may end in a fong, &c. 

With powder and lace, 

And effeminate face. 
The gay fop behold ftrutting along j 

Jufl: arrived from his travels, 

At nothing he levels, 
But juft at a dance and a fong, &c* 

The gentle coquet, 
8he's all in a fret, 
In the morn if her toilet be wrong ; 
m . The whole day flie will pafs, 
|i To confult her dear glafs, 
And at night die away with a fong, &c. 

The furly old prude. 
She wili (ay you are rude, 
For the blifs though (he fecretly long ; 
I But take her afide. 

You may manage her pride. 
And her virtue bring down to a fong, &c' 


The courtier he fmiles. 
As the time he beguiles, 

And feeds you with promifes long ; 
He fqueezes your hand. 
And calls you his friend, 
The* he means nothing more than 
fong, &c. 

Then let us be jolly. 
Drive hence melancholy^ 

Since we are brave fellows among^ 
Tafte life as it paffes, 
^nd fill up your glaffes. 

And each honeft blade ling a fong, &c. 

Steady She Goes. 
npHE Britifil tar no peril knows, 

But fearlefs braves the angry deep 
The {hip's his cradle of repofe. 

And fweetly rocks him to his fleep : 
He, tho' the raging furges fwell. 
In his hammock, in his hammock fwings. 
When the fteerfman fings. 

Steady file goes, alFs well, all's well ! 

While on the main-top-yard he fprings. 
An Englifti veffel heaves in view. 

He afks, but (he no letter brings 
From bonny Kate, he lovM fo true ; 


rhen fi-ghs he for his native dell; — 
Yet to hope he clings, to hope he clingSj 
While the fteersman fiogSj 
Steady £he goes, all's well^ all's well ! 

rhe ftorm is paft, the battle's o'er, 
Nature and man repofe in peace, 
rhen, homeward bound, on England's 

He hopes for joys that ne'er will ceafe : 
His Kate's fweet voice thofe jbys foretell ; 
&.nd his big heart fprings, his big heart 
. ^ fprings, 
while the fteersman fings. 

Steady flie goes, all's well, all's well ! 

bDulce DomuMs 
EEP in a vale a cottage ftood, 
Oft fought by travellers weary ; 
ind long it proved the bleft abode 

Of Edward and of Mary. 
?or her he chas'd the mountain goat. 

O'er Alps and glaciers bounding ; 
?or her the chamois he would fhoot^ 

Dark horrors all surrounding. 
, But evening come, 
He fought his home, 
While, anxious, lovely woman 1 
She hail'd the fight, 
And, every night. 
The cottage rung. 
As they fung. 
Oh ! dulce, dulce domum. 





Bu^t foon, alas ! this fcene of blifs 

Was changed to profpefts dreary ; 
For war and honour rous'd each Swifs, 

And Edward left his Mary, 
To bold St. Gothard's height he rufli'd, 

'Gainft Gallia's foes contending ; 
And, by unequal numbers cruih'd, 
He died, his land defending. 

The evening come, |o 
He {ought not home, 
Whilft fhe— diftraded woman.— 
Grown <vild with dread, 
Now feeks him dead. 
And hears the knell. 
That bids farewell 
To dulce, dulce domum. 










Plato* s Advice. 

SAYS PlatOj why fliould man be vain, 
Since bounteous Heaven hath made 
him great ? 
Why look with infolent difdain 

On thofe undeck'd with wealth or ftate||o( 
Can fplendtd robes, or beds of down, 

Or coftly gems that deck the fair j 
Can all the glories of a crown 

Give health, or eafe the brow of care ? 

The (ceptred king, the burdened fiave, 
Th^ humble and the haughty die ; 

The rich, the poor, the bafe, the brave. 
In duft, without diftindion, lie ! 



Go, fearcli the tombs where monarchs reft^ 
Who once the greateft titles bore ; 

rhe wealth and glory they poffels'd, 
And all their honours are no more ! 

3o glides the meteor through the fky. 

And fpreads along a gilded train, 
But when its fliort«liv*d beauties die, 

Diflblves to common air again. 
5o'tis with us, my jovial fouls :— 

Let friendfhip reign while here we ftay j 
Let's crown our joys with flowing bowls ; 

When Jove us calls, we muft obey. 

bOh! Lady Fair. 
H! lady fair ! where art thou roaming ? 
The fun is funk, the night is coming.— 
Stranger, I go o*er moor and mountain, 
Fo tell my beads at Agnes' fountain. — 
hxid who is the man, with his white locks 
flowing ? 

^h ! lady fair ! where Is he going ?— 
\\ wandVing pilgrim, weak, I falter, 
ro tell my beads at Agnes' altar — C^ng ; 
!^hill falls the rain — night winds are blow- 
Dreary and dark's the way you're going. 
**air lady, reft, till morning blufhes ; 
'11 ftrew for thee a bed of ruflhes^^^ — 
)h, ftranger, when my beads Fm counting* 
'11 blefs thy name at Agnes' fountain. — 
iifhou, pilgrim, turn, and reft thy forrow, 
ifhou'lt go to Agnes' (hrine to-morrow, — 


Good ftranger/'when my beads Vm telling 
My faint {hall blefs thy leafy dwelling. 
Stre\^5 then, oh ilrew our beds of ruflies, 
Here you ftiall reft till morning bluSies. 

Pretty Blue-Eyed Mary. 

P RET IT blue-eyed Mary, 
Roguifli Harry cried ; 
Say, nay little fairy, 

Will you be a bride ? 
Shall the bells be ringing. 

While we night and day. 
Pretty maid, are finging, 
Ti tal lal de rai de ra. 

Prithee, roguifh Harry, 

Stay awhile, fays 1, 
^Tis too foon to marry. 

That you can^t deny y 
Yet and tho* you worry, 

I fhall anfwer nay. 
Why is all this hurry ? 

Ti tal lal de ral de ra. - 

Pretty blue-eyed Mary, '^^^ 

Still the creature cry'd. 
Words and wifhes vary, 

You mufl he a bride : 
All I laid he parried, 

And this very day. 
Some how we were marriecJs 

Ti tal lal de Ted de ra. 


Poor Frantic Mary. 

The foremoil in the harveft fields- 
Poor ruddy Ralph work'd on and fu 

Well fkiird the. weighty fheaf to wield. 
That on the cart with eafe he flung, 

And midft the humble gleaning train. 

Poor Mary came and fang a ftraia, 
Addrefs'd to Ralph and iove* 

rheir promisM nuptial day dri^w near.^ 
His honeil bofom glow'd with joy, 

And Mary little thought a tear 

Could e^er her prelent biifs annoy ; 

That from a heart opprefs'd vvith pain, 

>he e'er Ihouid fing the pleafing ftraioj 
Addrefs'd to Ralph and love, 

Jut now the thunderV peal they hear. 
While vivid lightning rends the fky^ 
)h€ fees the form of him fo dear, 
! A victim to its fury lie. 
?oor frantic Mary views the fwain, 
then madly fings a broken ftrain, 
I Addrefs'd to Ralph and love. 

Ojo?nas Cluiterbiick and Polly Higginbott 

[N Chefter town a man there dwelt. 
Not rich as/Croefus, but a buck ; 
['he pangs of love he clearly^ felt — 
His name was Thomas Clutter buck* 


The lady he did moft approve, 

Moil guineas gold had got *em ; 
And Clutterbuck fell deep in love 
With Polly lii^ginhottom, 
O Thomas Clutterbuck ! 
And O Polly Higginbottom ! 
I fing the loves — the fmiling loves — 
Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. 

A little trip he did propofe 

Upon the Dee they got 'em ; 
The wind blew high — he blew his nofe, 

And fung to Polly Higginbottom. 
The ftrain was fweet— the ftream waSi 
He thought his notes had caught her : 
But ftie, ala? ! firft fell— afleep ; 
And then fell — in the water, 
O Polly Higginbottom ! 
She went to the bottom — 
I ilng the death — the doleful death ! — 
Of pretty Polly Higginbottom ! 

Yet ftill he flrain'd his little throat ; 

To love he did invite her ; 
And never mifs*d her — till his boat, 

He thought, went rather lighter. 
But when he faw that (he was gone, 

The fummum of his wiflies — 
He boldly paid the Waterman^ 

And jump'd among the fiflies. 


Gh, Polly Higginbottom ! 
He comes to the bottom! 
fing the death— the double death— 
Of Clatterbuck and Higginbottom * 

Hound Chefter ftalk the river ghofts 
Of this young man and fair maid ; 

rlis head looks like ^ falmon-trout ; 
Her* tail is like ^ mermaid 


Learn this, ye conilant lovers all. 

Who live on England's ifland— 
The way to fhun a wat'ry death, 
I Is making love on dry land!! 
O Polly Higginbottom ; 
Who lies at the bottom ! 
So fing the ghofts — thewater ghofts-^ 
Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. 

Mary the Maid of the Inn. 

WHO is (he, the poor Maniac, whole wildly 
fixM eyes 

Seem a heart ©v«rcharged to exprefs ? 
She weeps not, yet often and deeply fie lighs : 
She never complains, but ber iilence impiies 

The compofure of fettled diftrefs. 

No aid, no compaffion the Maniac will feek; 

Cold and hunger awake not her care : 
Thro' her rags do the vf inds of the tvinter blow bkak, 
On her poor. witherM bofom half bare> and her cheek 

Has die deathly pale hue of defpair. 


Yet cheerful and happy, nor diftant the day, 

Poor Mary the Maniac has been ^ 
The traveller remembers, who journey'd this way, 'Au 
No damfel fe lavdy, no damfelfb gay 

As Mary th^' Maid of the Inn. 

Her cheerful addrefs Hll'd the guefts with delight, 

As (he welcomed them in with a fmile ; 
Her h«art w^s a ilKanger to childifli afFright> - 
And Mary would walk by the Abbey at night 
^ When the wind whillled down the dark aifle* 

She loved, and young Richard had fettled the day, 

And fiie hoped to be happy for life : 
But Richard was idle and worthlefs, and they 
Who knew hirn, would pity poor Mary, and fay 

That file was too good for his wife. 

*Twas in autumn, and ftormy and dark was the night; 

And faft were the windows and door ; 
Two guefts fat enjoying the fire that burnt bright, 
And fmoking in filence, with tranquil delight, 
They liftea'd to hear the wind roar. 

< Tis pleafant,' cried one, * feated by the fire-fide, 

*To hear the wind 'v^hiftle without.' 
A fine night for the Abbey !' his comrade replied, 

* Methinks a man's courage would now be well tried 

* Who ftould \vander the ruins about. 

* I myfelf, like a fchool-boy, fliould tremble to hear 

* The hoarfe ivy fhake over my head ; 

« And could fancy I faw^ half perfuaded by fear, 
« Some ugly old i\bbot's white fpirit appear, 

* For this night might awaken the dead !" 

* Vll wager a dinner,' the other one cried, 

* That Mary would venture there now 

« Then wager and lofe !" with a fneer he replied, 

* I'll warrant Ihe'll fancy a ghoft by her fide, 

* And faint if flie fa\^ a white cow.* 


And 3 






* Will Mary thh charge on her courage allow ^ 

His companion exclaim'd with a frnile s 
*I fhall win-— for I knqw Ihe vifili venture there nowj^ 

* And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough < 

* From the elder that grows in the aifle.' 

With fearlefs good humour did Mary comply. 

And her way to the Abbey the bent ; 
The night it i^as dark^ and the wind it was high, 
And as hollowly howling it fwept thro* the iky. 
She fhivered with cold as flie went. 

O'er the path fo well known ftill proceeded the maidj 

Where the Abbey rofe dim on the fight, 
Thro' the gate-way (he enter 'd, Jhe felt not afraid, 
Yet the ruins were lonely and wild, and their (hade 
Seem'd to deepen the gloom of the night, 

All aiound her was filent, fave when the rude blaft 

Howl'd disinally round the old pile ; 
Over weed-coverM fragments ftill fearlefs fne paft, 
And arriv'd at the innermoft ruin at laft, 

Where the eider tree grew in the aifle. 

Well pleas'd did fhe reach it» and quickly drew near, 

And haftiiy gather'd the bough ; 
When the found of a voice feem'd to rife on her ear? 
She paused, and (he liften'd, ail eager to hear, 

And her heart panted fearfully now. 

The wind blew, t;h0 hoarfe iyy fiiook over her head, 

She hften'd — nought else could ihe hear, [dread. 
The wind ceas'd, her heart funk in her bofom with 
For fte heard in the ruins diftin^lly the tread 
Of footfteps approaching her near. 

Behind a wide column, half breathlefs W'ith rear, 

She crept to conceal herfeif there : 
That inllant the nioon o'er a dark cloud flione clear. 
And ihe (aw in the moon-lighj: two ruffians appear^, 
I And between them a cot-pfe did they bear. 

Then Mary could feel her heart blood curdle cold! 

Again the rough wind hurried by, — 
It blew off the hat of the one, and, behold, 
Even clofe to the feet of poor Mary it rolPd 

She felt, and expeded to die. 

<<Curfe thehat!^' he exclaims, "nay come on here, and 
-' The dead body," his eomrade replies, [hide 
She beholds them in fafety pafs on by her fide, 
She feizes the hat, fear her courage fupplied, 
And faft thro' the Abbey foe flies. 

She ran with wild fpeed, flie rufli'd in at the door, 

She gazed horribly eager around. 
Then her limbs could fupport their faint burthen na 

And exhaulled and breathlefs fhe funk on the floor, 
Unable to utter a found. 

Ere yet her pale lips could the ftory impart. 

For a moment the hat met her view 
Her eyes from that objeA convulfively liart, 
For — oh God what cold horror then thriil'd tliro' her 

When the name of her Richard flie knew ! 

Where the old Abbey flands, on the common !iard by 

His gibbet is now to be feen ; 
Not far from the road it engages the eye, 
The traveller beholds it, and thinks, with a figh, 

Of poor Mary the Maid of the Inn* 

J. Marshall, 
Printer, New(JwtIe, JP I N I St