was written by Thomas Tickel, Esq; the celebrated friend of Mr. Addison, and editor of his works. He was fon of a Clergyman in the north of England, had his education at Queen's college Oxon, was under-fecretary to Mr. Addison and Mr. Craggs, when successively fecretaries of Rate ; and was lastly (in June 1724) appointed secretary to the Lord Justices in Ireland, which place he beld till his death in 1740. He acquired Mr. Addison's patronage by a poem in praise of the opera of Rofaniond written while he was at the University.

F Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair,

Bright Lucy was the grace ; Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream

Refle&t so fair a face.

Till luckless love, and pining care,

Impair'd her rofy hue,
Her coral lips, and damask cheek,

And eyes of glofly blue.

Oh! have you seen a lilly pale,

When beating rains descend? So droop'd the slow consuming maid;

Her life now near its end.

By_Lucy warn'd, of flattering fwains,

Take heed ye easy fair :
Of vengeance due to broken Vows

Ye perjur'd fwains beware.

Three times all in the dead of night,

A bell was heard to ring; And at her window, shrieking thrice,

The raven flap'd his wing.

Too well the love-lorn maiden knew,

The folemn boding found ; And thus in dying words bespoke

The virgins weeping round,

" I hear a voice, you cannot hear,

“ Which says I must not stay: " I see a hand, you cannot see,

" Which beckons me away.

" By a false heart, and broken vows,

" In early youth I die. Ti Am I to blame, because his bride

• Is thrice as rich as I?

Ah Colin I give her not thy vows ; .66 Vows due to me alone; 66 Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,

". Nor think him all thy own.

66 To-morrow in the Church to wed,

“ Impatient, both prepare ; " But know, fond maid, and know, false man

" That Lucy will be there.

" Then bear my corse : ye comrades, bear,

“ The bridegroom blithe to meet ; “ He in his wedding trim so gay,

" I in my winding sheet."

She spoke, she dy'd-her corse was borne,

The bridegroom blithe to meet ; -He in his wedding trim so gay,

She in her winding sheet.

Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts?

How were those nuptials kept ;
The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead,

And all the village wept.

Confusion, shame, remorse, despair,

At once his bosom swell :
The damps of death bedew'd his brow,

He hook, he groan'd, he fell.

From the vain bride, (ah bride no more)

The varying crimson Aed,
When, stretch'd before her rival's corse,

She saw her husband dead.

Then to his Lucy's new-made grave,

Convey'd by trembling swains,
One mould with her, beneath one sod,
For ever now remains.

Oft at their

grave the constant hind And plighted maid are seen ; With garlands gay, and true-love knots,

'They deck the sacred green.

But, fwain forsworn, whoe'er thou art,

This hallow'd spot forbear ; Remember Colin's dreadful fate,

And fear to meet him there.

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