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Her form was gentle, and her mind From every folly free, To render pity still inclin'd                        Sweet Ellen of the Dee.

While blooming Henry mark'd her charm's,                        Who long had known her fame, He gaz'd and lov'd, and in his arms She own'd an equal flame. Though he had sprung of noble race And she of low degree, Yet none to beauty added grace, Like Ellen of the Dee.

But when the secret of his heart His haughty parents knew, They strove with unremitting art His purpose to undo; Who (joyless in the splendid dome                        With dames of high degree,) Found pleasure in his humbler fame With Ellen of the Dee.

To foreign climes he then was sent, To please parental pride; Reluctantly poor Henry went, Left Ellen's charms and died. They griev'd too late his fate to bear, And curs'd the stern decree,