Till heavy thoughts revolv'd too oft,
Opprefs'd the fprings of life;
His ftrength decay'd, his foul was foft,
It bow'd beneath the ftrife.

His friends to flee the scene of grief
Their prudent counsel gave;
(From objects new we meet relief)
All fought the youth to fave.

Bath's balmy waters gently ftream'd,
Their genial aid to give;
Each joy-infpiring naiad feem'd
'To bid the warrior live.

Nathlefs the lurking fickness gains
Faft on his weaken'd frame;
Till grown more bold, encreasing pains
Reveal'd the fever's flame.

Full thirty days and thirty nights
Maria tends his bed,

To her what are the world's delights,
While there her lord is laid?

To lull his anguish, calm his mind,
And hand the healing dose,

Was all her care: For this fhe pin'd;
For this fhe loft repole.

At length her pious care prevail'd,
To quell the fierce difeafe-

Might he but live, whate'er elfe fail'd,
She reck'd not; pain would pleafe.-

Ah me! what tidings do I hear?
"She fickens, faints, and dies:
"Outworn with watching, grief, and fear,
"She falls a facrifice."

Huh! hide the woeful chance, look gay,
And clofeft filence keep;

Or fmiling, fpite of forrow, say,
"The lady is afleep."

Say fo next day, try ev'ry art-
But ev'ry art is vain:

Prolong'd fufpence, the wifhing heart
Refufeth to fuftain.

"Where is Maria dear," he cries,

My charmer, where is fhe,

"Whofe looks were wont to chear my eyes?

"Why doth fhe fly from me?

"Go, bring her; fay, poor Sutherland, "Bereav'd of her, muft die:

"Make hafte-why do ye fpeechlefs stand? "What means that fudden figh?

"Alas! alas! Maria's gone;

"I will not here abide;

"We cannot part; we fill are one"He faid, then groan'd, and died.

F

THE FIELD OF BATTLE.

AINTLY bray'd the battle's roar
Diftant down the hollow wind;

Panting terror fled before,

Wounds and death were left behind.

The War-fiend curs'd the funken day,
That checked his fierce purfuit too foọn
While, fcarcely lighting to the prey,
Low hung, and lour'd the bloody moon.

The field, fo late the hero's pride,

Was now with various carnage fpread; And floated with a crimson tide,

That drench'd' the dying and the dead.

O'er the fad fcene of drearieft view,
Abandon'd all to horrors wild,
With frantic ftep Maria flew,

Maria, Sorrow's early child;

By duty led, for every vein

Was warm'd by Hymen's purest flame; With Edgar o'er the wintry main

She, lovely, faithful, wanderer, came.

For well fhe thought, a friend fo dear
In darkest hours might joy impart;
Her warrior, faint with toil, might chear,
Or foothe her bleeding warrior's fmart.

Tho' look'd for long-in chill affright,
(The torrent burfling from her eye)
She heard the fignal for the fight-
While her foul trembled in a figh-

She heard, and clafp'd him to her breast, Yet fcarce could urge th' inglorious stay; His manly heart the charm confeft -

Then broke the charm,-and rush'd away.

Too foon in few-but deadly words,
Some flying ftraggler breath'd to tell,
That in the foremoft ftrife of fwords
The young, the gallant Edgar fell.

She preft to hear- fhe caught the tale-
At ev'ry found her blood congeal'd;-
With terror bold-with terror pale,
She fprung to fearch the fatal field.

O'er the fad fcene in dire amaze

She went-with courage not her ownOn many a corpse she caft her gaze— And turn'd her ear to many a groan.

Drear anguifh urged her to prefs

Full many a hand, as wild fhe mourn'd;→ -Qf comfort glad, the drear carcfs

The damp, chill, dying hand return'd.

Her ghaftly hope was well nigh fled-
When late pale Edgar's form the found,
Half bury'd with the hoftile dead,
And bor'd with many a grisly wound.

She knew-fhe funk-the night-bird fcream'd,
-The moon withdrew her troubled light,
And left the fair,-tho' fall'n fhe feem'd-
To worse than death-and deepest night.