Page:Polly privateer (2).pdf/4

 The grave of thy Colin has room

to rest thee beside his cold clay.”

“ I come my dear shepherd, I come:

ye friends and companions, adieu!

I haste to my Colin's dark home,

to die on his bosom so true.”

All mournful the midnight bell rung,

when Lucy, sad Lucy! arose,

And forth to the green turf she sprung,

where Colin's pale ashes repose.

All wet with the night's chilling dew,

her bosom embrac'd the cold ground,

While stormy winds over her blew,

and night-ravens croak'd all around.

“ How long, my dear shepherd! she cry'd

how long must thy Lucy complain?

How long shall the grave my love hide?

how long e'er it join us again?

For thee has thy shepherdess liv’d,

with thee o'er the world would she fly;

For thee has she sorrow'd and griev'd,

for thee would she lie down and die.

Alas! what avails it, how dear

his Lucy was once to her swain,

Her face like the lily so fair,

her eyes that gave light to the plain?

Since now the dear shepherd is gone,

that face and those eyes charm no more,

And Lucy, forgot and alone,

to death must her Colin deplore.