Page:Watty and Meg, or, The wife reformed (4).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 ! Coase, 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,