O hear me, hear me, Lord in Heaven,
Altho' thou take my life-

O curse this woman, at whose house
Young Edward wooed his wife.

By night and day, in bed and bower,
O let her cursed be!!!

So having pray'd, steady and slow,
She rose up from her knee!
And left the church, nor e'er again
The church-door enter'd she.

I saw poor Ellen kneeling still,
So pale! I guess'd not why:
When she stood up, there plainly was
A trouble in her eye.

And when the prayers were done, we all Came round and ask'd her why: Giddy she seem'd, and, sure, there was

A trouble in her eye.

But ere she from the church-door stepp'd She smil❜d and told us why:

"It was a wicked woman's curse"

Quoth she," and what care I?"

She smil'd, and smil'd, and pass'd it off
E'er from the door she stept-

But all agree it would have been
Much better had she wept.

And if her heart was not at ease,
This was her constant cry-

"It was a wicked woman's curse-
God's good, and what care 1?”

There was a hurry in her looks,
Her struggles she redoubled :
"It was a wicked woman's curse,

And why should I be troubled?”

These tears will come-I dandled her
When 'twas the merest fairy-

Good creature! and she hid it all:

She told it not to Mary.

But Mary heard the tale: her arms

Round Ellen's neck she threw ;

"O Ellen, Ellen, she curs'd me,

VOL. II.

And now she hath curs'd !"
you

I saw young Edward by himself

Stalk fast adown the lee,

He snatcht a stick from every fence,

A twig from every tree.

He snapt them still with hand or knee,

And then away they flew !

As if with his uneasy limbs

He knew not what to do!

You see, good sir! that single hill ?
His farm lies underneath:

He heard it there, he heard it all,
And only gnash'd his teeth.

Now Ellen was a darling love
In all his joys and cares :
And Ellen's name and Mary's name
Fast-link'd they both together came,

Whene'er he said his prayers.

He reach'd his home, and by his looks
They saw his inward strife:

And they clung round him with their arms,

Both Ellen and his wife.

And Mary could not check her tears,
So on his breast she bow'd;

Then Frenzy melted into Grief,
And Edward wept aloud.

Dear Ellen did not weep at all,

But closelier did she cling,

And turn'd her face and look'd as if
She saw some frightful thing.

PART IV.

To see a man tread over Graves

I hold it no good mark;

'Tis wicked in the Sun and Moon,

And bad luck in the dark!

You see that Grave? The Lord, he gives,

The Lord, he takes away :

Oh! 'tis the child of my old age

Lies there as cold as clay.

Except that

grave, you scarce see one

That was not dug by me

I'd rather dance upon 'em all

Than tread upon these three!

"Aye, Sexton! 'tis a touching tale." "You, Sir! are but a lad;

This month I'm in my seventieth year, And still it makes me sad.

And Mary's sister told it me,
For three good hours and more;
Tho' I had heard it, in the main,
From Edward's self, before.

Well! it pass'd off! the gentle Ellen
Did well nigh dote on Mary;

And she went oftener than before,

And Mary lov'd her more and more:
She manag'd all the dairy.

To market she on market-days,

To church on Sundays came;

All seem'd the same: all seem'd so, Sir! But all was not the same!