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 inelting eyes a fweet 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 stood confefs'd in the charms of her face.
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 the pour forth her forrows and vows to the wind.
"Ah me!"—would she 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 prefage appalls! "Ah! fure on the Danube my Leopold falls !"
One evening so gloomy, when only the owl
(A tempeft impending) would venture to prowl ;
Mary-Ann, whose delight was in sadness and gloom,
By a newly-made grave fat her down on a tomb;
But ere fhe to number her forrows began,
Lo! out of the grave 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 arın faft ;She fhriek'd a loud fhriek, fo affrighted was fhe;
And grimly he scowl'd, as he jump'd on her knee.
With a voice that difmay'd her-" The Danube!" he
"There Leopold bleeds! Mary-Ann is my bride !".
She fhrunk, all appall'd, and the gazed all around; She closed her fad eyes, and fhe funk on the ground: The Little Grey Man he refumed 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, fhall be thine !"—
With fear and with fright did the maid look around,
When she first 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 fhe cry-" That I ever was born! "Was ever poor maiden fo loft and forlorn! "Must 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 blaft.
A crofs of pure gold, her fond mother's bequest,
By a ftill dearer riband she hung at her breast;
Round a bodkin of filver fhe bound her long hair,
In plaits and in treffes fo comely and fair,
'Twould have gladden'd your heart, ere her journey began, To have gazed on the tidy and trim Mary-Ann.
But, oh! her fad bofom fuch forrows oppress'd,
Such fears and forebodings, as robb'd her of reft;
Forlorn as she felt, fo forlorn must she go,
And brave the rough tempeft, the hail, and the fnow!
Yet ftill fhe fet forth, all fo pale and fo wan-
Let a tear drop of pity for poor Mary-Ann!
Dark, dark was the night, and the way it was rude
While the Little Grey Man on her thoughts would obtrude
She wept as the thought on her long gloomy way;
She turn'd, and fhe yet faw the lights all fo gay:
She kifs'd now her crofs, as fhe heard the laft bell;
And a long, long adieu bade to Aix-la-Chapelle.
Through the brown wood of Limbourg with caution the paced;
Ere the noon of the morrow she traverfed the wafte;
She mounted the hills of St. Bertrand fo high;
And the day it declined, as the heath fhe drew nigh;
And she rested a wide-waving alder beneath,
And paused on the horrors of Sombermond's heath:
For there, in black groups (by the law 'tis impofed),
Are the bodies of fell malefactors expofed,
On wheels and on gibbets, on croffes and poles,
With a charge to the paffing, to pray for their fouls:
But a spot of fuch terror no robbers infest,
And there the faint pilgrim fecurely may reft,
Sore fatigued, the fad maid knelt, and faid a fhort prayer;
She bound up her treffes, that flow'd in the air:
Again the fet forth, and fped flowly along;
And her fteps tried to cheer, but in vain, with a fong:
In her thoughts all fo gloomy, fad prefages ran,
Of Leopold now, now the Little Grey Man.
The moon dimly gleam'd as the enter'd the plain;
The winds fwept the clouds rolling on to the main;
For a hut e'er fo wretched in vain the look'd round;
No tree promised shelter, no bed the cold ground:
Her limbs they now faulter'd, her courage all fled,
As a faint beam difplay'd the black groups of the dead.
Shrill whistled the wind through the skulls, and the blast
Scared the yet greedy bird from its glutting repaft;
From the new-rack'd affaffin the raven withdrew,
But croak'd round the wheel fill, and heavily flew;
While vultures, more daring, intent on their prey,
Tore the flesh from the finews, yet recking away.
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