Friday, August 6, 2010

The Maid of Neidpath by Thomas Campbell

Earl March look'd on his dying child,
And, smit with grief to view her—
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled
Shall be restored to woo her.

She's at the window many an hour
His coming to discover;
And he look'd up to Ellen's bower,
And she look'd on her lover.

But ah! so pale, he knew her not,
Though her smile on him was dwelling.
"And am I then forgot—forgot?"
It broke the heart of Ellen.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;
Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.

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