Page:Irish maniac.pdf/4

 Anon we'll have vengeance for those dreadful lashes;

Already the screech-owl and ravens appear.

By day the green grave that lies under the willow

With wild flowers I'll straw, and by night make my pillow,

Till the ooze and dark sea-weed, beneath the curl'd billow.

Shall furnish a death-bed for Mary le More."

Thus raved the poor maniac in tones most heart-rending

Than sanity's voice ever pour'd on my ear,

When lo! on the waste, and their march towards her bending

A troop of fierce cavalry chanced to appear.

“Oye fiends!" she exclaimed, and with wild horror started.

With an overcharged bosom I slowly departed,

And sighed for the wrongs of poor Mary le More.

man that should our king ha'e been,

He wore the royal red and green;

A braver lad ye wadna seen,

Than our young royal Charlie.