And they barr'd with iron the windows so strong, And they put a new lock on the door; And the parson he came, and he carefully strew'd With holy water the floor. And her kindred came to see the dame, And they did sing a penitent hymn, And midnight came, and shortly the dame Did give to her child the light; And then she did pray, that they would stay, And pass with her the night. And she begg'd they would sing the penitent hymn, And pray with all their might; For sadly I fear, the fiend will be here, And fetch me away this night. And now without, a stormy rout, And the parson he pray'd, for he was afraid, And Marg❜ret pray'd the Almighty's aid, And the fair again, she pray'd of the men And they did sing, 'till the house did ring, But now their song, it dried on their tongue, And Marg❜ret screamed, and bid them not sleep, SONG. THE ROBIN RED-BREAST. A VERY EARLY COMPOSITION. WHEN the winter wind whistles around my lone cot, Though a lonely poor being, still do not I pine, shrine. He comes with the morning, he hops on my arm, And in gratitude ever beguiles with a lay The soul-sick'ning thoughts of a bleak winter's day. What, though he may leave me, when spring again smiles, To waste the sweet summer in love's little wiles, Yet will he remember his fosterer long, And greet her each morning with one little song. And when the rude blast shall again strip the trees, Oh! then he'll return to his Helena kind, And repose in her breast from the rude northern wind. My sweet little Robin's no holiday guest, WINTER SONG. ROUSE the blazing midnight fire, Heap the crackling faggots higher; Stern December reigns without, With old Winter's blust'ring rout. Let the jocund timbrels sound, Hark! without the tempest growls, And the affrighted watch-dog howls; Witches on their broomsticks sail, Death upon the whistling gale. Heap the crackling faggots higher, Draw your easy chairs still nigher; And to guard from wizards hoar, Nail the horse-shoe on the door. Now repeat the freezing story, |