Page:Mary's dream (NLS104187029).pdf/2

2 Mary’s Dream.

By Alexander Lowe.

moon had climb’d the highet hill That ries o’er the ource of Dee, And from the eatern ummit hed Her ilver light on tower and tree, When Mary laid her down to leep— Her thoughts on Sandy, far at ea, Then oft and low a voice was heard, Saying, “Mary, weep no more for me.”

She from her pillow gently rais’d Her head, to ak who there might be, And aw young Sandy hiv’ring tand, With pallid cheek and hollow eye— “O Mary dear! cold is my clay, It lies beneath a tormy ea; Far, far from thee I leep in death, So, Mary, weep no more for me!

“Three tormy nights and tormy days We tos’d upon the raging main, And long we trove our bark to ave, But all our triving was in vain: Even then, when horror clill’d my blood, My heart was fill’d with love to thee; The torm is pat, and I at ret, So, Mary, weep no more for me!