And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,

And didft thou die for me?

Dr. Percy.

But first upon my true love's grave
My weary limbs I'll lay,

And thrice I'll kifs the green-grafs turf,
That wraps his breathlefs clay.

Yet ftay fair lady; reft awhile

Beneath this cloyfter wall:

See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
And drizzly rain doth fall.

O ftay me not, thou holy friar;
O ftay me not I pray;

No drizzly rain that falls on me,
Can wath my fault away.

Yet ftay, fair lady, turn again,⚫
And dry thofe pearly tears;
For fee, beneath this gown of gray.
Thy own true-love appears.

Here forc'd by grief and hopeless love,
Thefe holy weeds I fought:

And here amid thefe lonely walls

To end my days I thought.

But haply for me my year

Is not yet pafs'd away,

of

grace

Might I ftill hope to win thy love,

No longer would I stay.

Now farewell grief, and welcome joy

Once more unto my heart;

For fince I have found thee, lovely youth,
We never more will part.

Mrs Bars bauld.

Mrs. Barbauld.

Vermuthlich sind die Original Pieces, welche Aikin feiner zweiten Ausgabe des Efay on Song -Writing, v. Jahr 1774 beifügte, nicht von ihm selbst, sondern von seiner Schwester, Mistreß Barbauld, so wie die in der ersten Ausgabe unter dieser Rubrik befindlichen von ihr waren, die er in der zweiten seinem Essay selbst einverleibte. Un ter jenen Stücken steht. folgende schöne Ballade gleich zuerst; sie war vorher im Gentleman's Magazine abgedruckt worden.

EDWIN AND ETHELINDE.

,,ONE parting kifs, my ETHELINDE!"
Young EDWIN fault'ring cried,

I hear thy father's hafty tread,
No longer must I bide.

To-morrow eve in yonder wood,
Beneath the well-known tree,
Say wilt thou meet thy own true love,
Whofe only joy's in thee?"

She clafp'd the dear beloved youth;

And figh'd and dropt a tear;
Whate'er betide, my only love
I'll furely meet thee there."

They kifs, they part; a liftning page
To malice ever bent,

O'erheard their talk, and to his lord
Reveal'd their fond intent.

The dews of evening faft did fall,

And darknefs fpread apace,

When ETHELINDE with beating breast
Flew to th' appointed place.

With eager eye fhe looks around,

No EDWIN there was feen;
"He was not wont to break his faith,
What can his abfence mean!"

Her heart beat thick every at noise,
Each rustling thro' the wood;
And now the travers'd quick the ground,
And now fhe liftning ftood.

Enlivening hope and chilling fear
By turns her bofom fhare,
And now she calls upon his name,
Now weeps in fad despair.

Mean time the day's laft glimmerings fled,
And blackening all the fky
A hideous tempeft dreadful rofe,
And thunders roll'd on high,

Poor ETHELINDE aghaft, dismay'd,
Beholds with wild affright

The threat'ning fky, the lonely wood,

"

And horrors of the night.

Where art thou now my EDWIN dear!

Thy friendly aid I want;

Ah me! my boding heart foretels,

That aid thou canst not grant."

Thus rack'd with pangs, and beat with storms,

Confus'd and loft fhe roves;

Mrs. Bars bauld.

Nirs. Bar bauld.

Now looks to heaven with earnest prayer,
Now calls on him fhe loves.

At length a diftant taper's ray
Struck beaming on her fight;
Thro' brakes fhe guides her fainting steps
Towards the welcome light.

An aged hermit peaceful dwelt
In this fequefter'd wild,

Calm goodness fat upon his brow,
His words were foft and mild.

He ope'd his hofpitable door,
And much admiring view'd
The tendre virgin's graceful form,

Dafh'd by the tempeft rude.

Welcome, fair maid, whoe'er thou art,

To this warm fhelter'd cell;

Here reft fecure thy wearied feet,

Here peace and fafety dwell."

He faw the heart- wrung ftarting tear,
And gently fought to know,
With kindeft pity's foothing looks,
The ftory of her woe.

Scarce had fhe told her mournful tale,
When ftruck with dread they hear
Voices confus'd with dying groans,
The cell approaching near.

„Help, father! help," they loudly cry,
,,A wretch here bleeds to death,
Some cordial balfam quickly give
To stay his parting breath."

All deadly pale they lay him down,
And gafh'd with many a wound;

When, woful fight! 'twas EDWIN's felf
Lay bleeding on the ground.

With frantic grief poor ETHELINDE
Befides his body falls;

Lift up thine eyes, my EDWIN dear,
'Tis ETHELINDE that calls."

That much lov'd found recalls his life,
He lifts his clofing eyes,

Then feebly murmuring out her name
He gafps, he faints, he dies.

Stupid a while, in dumb despair
She gaz'd on EDWIN dead;
Dim grew her eyes, her lips turn'd pale,
And life's warm spirit fled.

3

Gleim.

Mirs. Bars bauld.