Lord Ronald, while horror ftill briftled his hair,
To Ellen now turn'd;—but no Ellen was there!
And lo! in her place, his furprise to complete,
Lay Janet, all cover'd with blood, at his feet!

—" Yes, traitor, 'tis Janet !"-fhe cried;" at my fight "No more will your heart fwell with love and delight; "That little jet ring was the cause of your flame, "And that little jet ring from the Forest-Fiend camé.

"It endow'd me with beauty, your heart to regain; "It fix'd your affections, fo wavering and vain ; "But the spell is diffolved, and your eyes speak my fate, My falfehood is clear, and as clear is your hate,

"But what caused my falfehood?-your falfehood alone; "What voice faid-be guilty?' feducer, your own! "You vow'd truth for ever, the oath I believed, "And had you not deceived me, I had not deceived.

"Remember my joy, when affection you fwore! "Remember my pangs, when your paffion was o'er ! "A curfe, in my rage, on your children was thrown, "And alas! wretched mother, that curfe ftruck my own!"

And here her strength fail'd her!—the fad one to fave
In vain the Leech labour'd; three days did the rave;
Death came on the fourth, and restored her to peace,
Nor Long did Lord Ronald survive her decease.

Despair

Defpair fills his heart! he no longer can bear
His caftle, for Ellen no longer is there:
From Scotland he haftens, all comfort disdains,
And foon his bones whiten on Palestine's plains.

If you bid me, fair damfels, my moral rehearse,
It is, that young ladies ought never to curfe ;
For no one will think her well-bred, or polite,
Who devotes little babes to Grim Women in White.

No.

No. XIX.

THE LITTLE GREY MAN.

ORIGINAL.-H. BUNBURY.

MARY-ANN was the darling of Aix-la-Chapelle ;
She bore through its province, unenvied, the belle;
The joy of her fellows, her parents' delight;
So kind was her foul, and her beauty fo bright:
No maiden furpafs'd, or perhaps ever can,
Of Aix-la-Chapelle the beloved Mary-Ann.

Her form it was faultlefs, unaided by art;
And frank her demeanour, as guileless her heart;
Her foft melting eyes a sweet langour bedeck'd,
And youth's gawdy bloom was by love lightly check'd
On her mien had pure nature bestow'd her best grace,
And her mind ftood confefs'd in the charms of her face.

Though

Though with fuitors befet, yet her Leopold knew,
As her beauty was matchless, her heart it was true,
So fearless he went to the wars; while the maid,
Her fears for brave Leopold often betray'd:

Full oft, in the gloom of the churchyard reclined,
Would she pour forth her forrows and vows to the wind.

"Ah me!"-would fhe figh, in a tone that would melt The heart that one spark of true love ever felt;

"Ah me!would fhe figh-" past and gone is the day,

"When my father was plighted to give me away!
"My fancy, what fad gloomy presage appalls!
"Ah! fure on the Danube my Leopold falls !".

One evening fo gloomy, when only the owl
(A tempeft impending) would venture to prowl;
Mary-Ann, whose delight was in sadness and gloom,
By a newly-madé grave fat her down on a tomb;
But ere the to number her forrows began,
Lo! out of the gravé jump'd a Little Grey Man!

His hue it was deadly, his eyes they were ghaft;

Long and pale were his fingers, that held her arm fast ;— She shriek'd a loud fhriek, so affrighted was she ;

And grimly he fcowl'd, as he jump'd on her knee.

With a voice that difmay'd her-" The Danube!" he

cried;

"There Leopold bleeds! Mary-Ann is my bride!"-

She

She shrunk, all appall'd, and she gazed all around; She closed her fad eyes, and fhe funk on the ground; The Little Grey Man he resumed his discourse— -"Tomorrow I take thee, for better, for worse :"At midnight my arms fhall thy body entwine, "Or this newly-made grave, Mary Ann, shall be thine !"

With fear and with fright did the maid look around,
When the firft dared to raise her fad eyes from the ground;
With fear and with fright gazed the poor Mary-Ann,

Though loft to her fight was the Little Grey Man:

With fear and with fright from the churchyard fhe fled; Reach'd her home, now fo welcome, and funk on her bed.

"Woe is me !"-did the cry-" That I ever was born! Was ever poor maiden fo loft and forlorn!

"Muft that Little Grey Man, then, my body entwine "Or the grave newly dug for another be mine? "Shall I wait for to-morrow's dread midnight?-ah no! "To my Leopold's arms-to the Danube I go !"

Then up rofe the maiden, fo fore woe-begone,
And her Sunday's apparel in hafte she put on;
Her clofe ftudded boddice of velvet fo new;
Her coat of fine fcarlet, and kirtle of blue;
Her ear-rings of jet, all fo coftly; and last,
Her long cloak of linfey, to guard from the blast.

A cross