And nightly thus he crofs'd the tide,
Again his love to find;

She ftarted at the Carron's roar,
And ev'ry breath of wind.

And ftill he crofs'd the furly wave,

And ftill the lovers met,

And still beneath the tyrant's tow'r,
Stood William cold and wet;

Who nightly watch'd the lonely light,
Which glimmer'd from the tow'r;

And ftill he ftruggl'd on the tide,
While wan'd the midnight hour.

At midnight hour she never fail'd
To eye the tumbling tide,

Where ftill fhe faw her anxious love
Upon the billows ride.

One difmal night, down pour'd the rain,
And loud the wind did roar,

And wild the furious furges dash'd
Against the Carron shore.

Beneath the cloud of night they rush'd,

With dreadful noise so fast ;

Beneath the arch of heav'n the clouds,

So drives the roaring blast,

Her

Her foul did fhiver for his fate,
Left he the deep should try,

Nor warned by the billows' rage,
Nor by the frightful sky.

She lonely fat, and lonely figh'd,
Within the tow'r's ftrong wall:
Hark! hark! or is it but the wind
That whiftles thro' the hall?

She heard the fhriek, fhe faw the fight,
The frighted fpirit gaz'd:

Wild were its eyes, and stiff its hair,
Like boary briftles rais'd.

It was her William's wraith fhe faw,

It pointed to the tide ;

And there the fpy'd him ftruggling hard,
With Death clung by his fide.

And, ah! he look'd to her for help,

From out the wat'ry tomb,
He weeping feem'd to call on her,

To join him in his doom.

While faint and breathless still he fought,

Against the billows' force,

She frantic leapt into the tide,

To aid her lover's courfe.

The

The waters roar'd from fide to fide,
And furious bore her down:

He saw her trembling on the wave,
Wild welt'ring to the moon.

Again he ftrove with all his might,
For frantic was his force,
Refolv'd to fave his hapless love,
Or lie with her a corfe.

The billows bend beneath his ftroke,
But ftill it was in vain ;
The little space his effort made,

The billows feiz'd again.

Caught by a flender willow twig,

He hung in dire despair;

Fatigu'd to death, he could no more
Than wait his lover there.

Refolv'd to wait a little space,
But if his all bore by,

To quit the ftraw of life again,
In grizly darkness die.

Heav'n, or the pitying waters wept,
For what could virtue more?

It brought the corfe within his reach,
He dragg'd her to the shore.

He

He fnatch'd her up, a clay cold thing,
And held her to his breaft,
And hied him to a bow'ry wood,
To give her life and rest.

Her life was fled, her auburn hair,
Stream'd fhiv'ring to the wind;

Chill was the breaft that glow'd of late,
And dim thofe eyes that shin'd.

He panted with the sweeteft fright
That e'er felt youth's embrace,
His body fhook! Her lips were pale,
The roles fled her face.

But ftill with throbbing hope he ran,
Still gazing on her charms,
For never fuch a fweet corfe lay

In frantic lover's arms.

He thought of former happy days,
While ran the drizz'ling tear,
But Heav'n did dafh the cup away
When hope was fmiling near.

To horfe to horfe! the fire-ey'd Chief,
Skirr'd o'er the lee in fight,

His armour's gleam athwart the trees,

Shot horrid through the night.

Beneath

Beneath the spreading green-wood tree
His love young William laid;
With fury flashing in his eyes,
He drew his fhining blade.

Then ftept he forth in manly might,
Before the corfe he ftood,

His pride was great, his courage high,
And flush'd with youthful blood.

The tyrant faw him urge the ftrife,
With fatal fury bold,

High rear'd the weighty blade, which oft
On England's creft had told.

His waving plumes nod high in air,

The warrior full difplay'd,

That Morcar's foul fhrunk back, recoil'd,

For he was fore afraid.

He faw the maid beneath the fhade,

Yet durft not feize the prize;

His paffions boil'd as fierce as hell,

Wild flashing from his eyes.

The dauntless youth still stood before,
And urg'd the eager fight;

And many a knight that smil'd that morn,
He fent to endless night.

Still