Page:Watty & Meg, or, The wife reformed (2).pdf/17

 17 As begging for something he could not obtain ; She rais'd him indignant, derided his stay, Then bore him on board, set her sail, and a way. Though fast the red bark down the river did glide, Yet faster ran Malcolm adown by its side ; Macgregor ! Macgregor !' he bitterly cried; Macgregor! Macgregor !" the echoes replied. He struck at the lady, but, strange though it seem, His sword only fell on the rocks and the stream ; But the groans from the boat, that ascended amain, Were groans from a bosom in horror and pain.- They reach'd the dark lake, and bore lightly away; Macgregor is vanish'd for ever and aye!

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. VITAL spark of heavenly flame! Quit, oh quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! Ccase, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life! Hark! they whisper---angles say, " Sister spirit, come away”-- What is this absorbs me quite ! Steals my senses, shuts my sight,