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Here hails har baten! Welcome the dreai teor,
Weleome ye marthy beaths' ye pathlefs woods,
Mary the diaid of the Inx.
(From the same Work. ]
JHO is she, the poor Maniac, whole wildly-fix'd cyes
Seem a heart overcharged to express? She weeps not, yet often and deeply the fighs : She never complains, but her filence implies
The compofure of settled distrets.
No aid, no compaflion the Maniac will seek;
Cold and hunger awake not her care :
Has the deathly pale hue of despair.
Yet chearful and happy, nor diftant the day,
Poor Mary the maniac has been ;
As Mary the Maid of the Ina.
Her cheerful address fill'd the guests with delight
As she welcomed them in with a smile:
When the wind whistled down the dark aille.
She loved, and young Richard had settled the day,
And the hoped to be happy for life?
That she was too good for his wife.
"Twas in autumn, and formy and dark was the night,
And faft were the windows and door ;.
They liften'd to hear the wind roar,
« 'Tis pleasant,” cried one, “ seated by the fire fide
“ To hear the wind whistle without." " A fine night for the Abbey !” his comrade replied, « Methinks a man's courage would now be well tried
" Who should wander the ruins about.
« I myself
I myself, like a school-boy, should tremble to hear.
“ The hoarse ivy shake over my head; “ And could fancy I saw, half persuaded by fear, “ Some ugly old Abbot's white fpirit appear,
“ For this wind might awaken the dead !"
“ I'll wager a dinner," the other onc cried,
“ That Mary would venture there now." " Then wager and lose!” with a sneer he replied, “ I'll warrant she'd fancy a ghost by her side,
« And faint if she saw a white cow."
“ Will Mary this charge on her courage allow ?"
His companion exclaim'd with a smile; “ I shall win, for I know she will venture there now, « And carn a new bonnet by bringing a bough
“ From the elder that grows in the aisle.".
With fearless good humour did Mary comply,
And her way to the Abbey the bent :
She fhiver'd with cold as she went.
O'er the path so well known ftill proceeded the Maid
Where the Abbey rose dim on the light,
Seem'd to deepen the gloom of the night.
All around her was filent, fave when the rude blaft
Howl'd dismally round the old pile;
Where the elder tree grew in the aisle.
Well-pleas'a did the reach it, and quickly drew near
And haftily gather'd the bough;
And her heart panted fearfully now.
The wind blew, the hoarse ivy Mook over her head,
She liften'd, — nought elfe could she hear,
Of footsteps approaching her near.
Behind a wide column half breathless with fear
She crept to conceal herself there :
And between them a corple did they bear.
Then Mary could feel her heart-blood curdle cold !
Again the rough wind hurried by,-
She felt, and expected to die.
" Curse the hat !” he exclaims, “ nay come on here, and hide
“ The dead body,” his comrade replies. She beholds them in safety pass on by her fide, She seizes the hat, fear her courage supplied,
And fast thro' the Abbey the flies.
She ran with wild speed, me rufh'd in at the door,
She gazed horribly eager around, Then her limbs could support their faint burthen no more, And exhausted and breathless the sunk on the floor Unable to utter a found.
Ere yet ber pale lips could the story impart,
For a moment the hat met her view ;Her eyes from that object convulsively start, For-roh God what cold horror then thrill'd thro' her heart,
When the naine of her Richard she knew !
Where the old Abbey stands, on the common hard by
His gibbet is now to be seen,
Of poor Mary the Maid of the Inn.