| |
| OF Leinster, famed for maidens fair, | |
| Bright Lucy was the grace, | |
| Nor e’er did Liffy’s limpid stream | |
| Reflect so sweet a face; | |
| |
| Till luckless love and pining care | 5 |
| Impaired her rosy hue, | |
| Her coral lips and damask cheeks, | |
| And eyes of glossy blue. | |
| |
| O, have you seen a lily pale | |
| When beating rains descend? | 10 |
| So drooped the slow-consuming maid, | |
| Her life now near its end. | |
| |
| By Lucy warned, of flattering swains | |
| Take heed, ye easy fair! | |
| Of vengeance due to broken vows, | 15 |
| Ye perjured swains! beware. | |
| |
| Three times all in the dead of night | |
| A bell was heard to ring, | |
| And, shrieking, at her window thrice | |
| The raven flapped his wing. | 20 |
| |
| Too well the love-lorn maiden knew | |
| The solemn boding sound, | |
| And thus in dying words bespoke | |
| The virgins weeping round: | |
| |
| “I hear a voice you cannot hear, | 25 |
| 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 die. | 30 |
| Was I to blame because his bride | |
| Was thrice as rich as I? | |
| |
| “Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows, | |
| Vows due to me alone; | |
| Nor thou, fond maid! receive his kiss, | 35 |
| Nor think him all thy own. | |
| |
| “To-morrow in the church to wed, | |
| Impatient both prepare; | |
| But know, fond maid! and know, false man! | |
| That Lucy will be there. | 40 |
| |
| “Then bear my corpse, my comrades! bear, | |
| This bridegroom blithe to meet; | |
| He in his wedding trim so gay, | |
| I in my winding sheet.” | |
| |
| She spoke; she died. Her corpse was borne | 45 |
| The bridegroom blithe to meet: | |
| He in his wedding trim so gay, | |
| She in her winding sheet. | |
| |
| Then what were perjured Colin’s thoughts? | |
| How were these nuptials kept? | 50 |
| The bridesmen flocked round Lucy dead, | |
| And all the village wept. | |
| |
| Confusion, shame, remorse, despair, | |
| At once his bosom swell; | |
| The damps of death bedewed his brow: | 55 |
| He shook, he groaned, he fell. | |
| |
| From the vain bride—ah! bride no more— | |
| The varying crimson fled, | |
| When stretched before her rival’s corpse | |
| She saw her husband dead. | 60 |
| |
| Then to his Lucy’s new-made grave | |
| Conveyed by trembling swains, | |
| One mould with her, beneath one sod, | |
| Forever he remains. | |
| |
| Oft at this grave the constant hind | 65 |
| And plighted maid are seen; | |
| With garlands gay and true-love knots | |
| They deck the sacred green. | |
| |
| But, swain forsworn! whoe’er thou art, | |
| This hallowed spot forbear; | 70 |
| Remember Colin’s dreadful fate, | |
| And fear to meet him there. | |
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