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 ’Tis pleasant, cries one, seated by the fire-side. To hear the wind whistle without. A fine night for the abbey his comrade replied, Methinks a man’s courage would now be well tried Who would wander the ruins about. I’ll wager a dinner, the other one cried, That Mary would venture there now. Then wager then lose, with a sneer he replied, I’ll warrant she’d fancy a ghost by her side, And faint if she saw a white cow. Will Mary this charge on her courage allow ? His companion exclaimed with a smile. I shall win’ for I know she will venture there now ; And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough From the alder that grows in the aisle. With fearless good humour did Mary comply. And her way to the abbey she bent; The night it was gloomy, the wind it was high. And as hollowly howling it swept through the sky. She shiver’d with cold as she went. O’er the path so well known still proceeded the maid. Where the abbey rose dim on the sight; Through the gateway she entered, she felt not afraid Yet the ruins were lonely and wild, and the shade Seemed to darken the gloom of the night. All around her was silent, save when the rude blast Howl’d dismally round the whole pile; Over wood-covered fragments still fearless she pass’d And arrived at the innermost ruins at last, Where the alder tree grows in the isle. Well pleased did she reach it, and quickly drew near, And hastily gathered the bough, When the sound of a voice seemed to rise on her ear, She paused and she listened, all eager to hear. And her heart panted fearfully now.