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Ah! not averfe from love was fhe; Though pure as heaven's fnowy flake; Both loved; and though a Gard'ner he, He knew not what it was to rake.

Cold blows the blast, the night's obfcure:
The manfion's crazy wainscots crack,
The fun had funk, and all the moor,
Like ev'ry other moor, was black.

Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire,
The lovely Molly Dumpling fat;
Much did the fear, and much admire,
What Thomas gard'ner could be at.

Listening, her hand fupports her chin,
But ah! no foot is heard to ftir;
He comes not from the garden in,
Nor he, nor little bob-tail cur.

They cannot come, fweet Maid, to thee;
Flesh, both of cur and man, is grafs :

And what's impoffible can't be,
And never, never, comes to pass !

She paces through the hall antique,

To call her Thomas, from his toil; Opes the huge door : the hinges creak, Because the hinges wanted oil.

Thrice on the threshold of the hall,
She-"Thomas"-cried with many a fob;
And thrice on Bob-tail did fhe call,
Exclaiming fweetly-" Bob! Bob! Bob!".

Vain Maid! a gard'ner's corpfe, 'tis faid,
In answers can but ill fucceed;

And dogs that hear, when they are dead,
Are very cunning dogs indeed!

Back through the hall fhe bent her way,

All, all was folitude around;

The candle fhed a feeble ray,

Though a large mould of four to the pound.

Full closely to the fire she drew,

Adown her cheek a falt tear stole; When, lo! a coffin out there flew, And in her apron burnt a hole.

Spiders their busy death-watch tick'd;
A certain fign that fate will frown;
The clumsy kitchen clock, too, chick'd,
A certain fign it was not down.

More ftrong, and strong, her terrors rofe,
Her fhadow did the maid appall;
She trembled at her lovely nose,
It look'd fo long against the wall.

VOL. II.

N

Up

Up to her chamber damp and cold,
She climb'd Lord Hoppergollop's stair,
Three ftories high, long, dull, and old,
As great Lords' ftories often are.

All nature now appear'd to pause;

And-" o'er the one half world feem'd dead;"No-" curtain'd fleep,"-had fhe; because

She had no curtains to her bed.

Listening she lay; with iron din,

The clock ftruck twelve, the door flew wide,

When Thomas grimly glided in,

With little Bob-tail by his fide.

Tall like the poplar was his fize,

Green, green his waistcoat was, as leeks;

Red, red as beet-root, were his eyes,

And pale as turnips were his cheeks!

Soon as the spectre fhe efpied,

The fear-ftruck damfel faintly faid,
"What would my Thomas ?"—he replied,
-"Oh! Molly Dumpling, I am dead!

"All in the flower of youth I fell,

"Cut off with healthful bloffom crown'd;

"I was not ill, but in a well,

"I tumbled backwards, and was drown'd.

-

"Four

"Four fathom deep thy love doth lie,
"His faithful dog his fate doth fhare;
"We're fiends; this is not he and I,

"We are not here, for we are there.

"Yes! two foul water-fiends are we;
"Maid of the Moor, attend us now !
66 Thy hour's at hand, we come for thee !"-
The little fiend-cur faid,-" bow! wow!"-

"To wind her in her cold, cold grave, "A Holland fheet a maiden likes,

"A fheet of water, thou fhalt have; "Such fheets there are in Holland dykes."

The fiends approach; the Maid did shrink,
Swift through the night's foul air they spin,
They took her to the green well's brink,
And, with a foufe, they plump'd her in,

So true the fair, fo true the youth,
Maids, to this day, their ftory tell,
And hence the proverb rose, that truth
Lies in the bottom of a well.

N 2

No. LIV.

THE LAIDLEY * WORM

OF

SPINDLESTONE HEUGHS.

I have feen another verfion of this story, with some variations, under the title of Kempion; the one, which I here infert, in my opinion, is by far the best of the two. It is taken from the 3d volume of "Evans's old Ballads."

THE King is gone from Bamborough castle:
Long may the Princess mourn,

Long may she stand on the castle wall,
Looking for his return.

She has knotted the keys upon a ftring,

And with her she has them ta'en;

She has caft them o'er her left shoulder,

And to the gate she is gane.

She

*This is a northern corruption for loathly, i. e. loathfome;

worm means ferpent.

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