WILLIAM and MARGARET.

W

A BALLA D.

I.

Hen all was wrapt in dark Midnight,
And all were fast a-sleep,

In glided Margret's grimly Ghoft,

And flood at William's Feet.

II.

Her Face was like the April Morn,

Clad in a Wintry Cloud;

And Clay-cold was her lilly Hand,

That held the fable Shrowd.

III.

So fhall the fairest Face appear,

When Youth and Years are flown;

Such is the Robe that Kings must wear,
When Death has reft their Crown.

IV. Her

THYRSIS & CHLOE.

Ο 4

Carmen, Latinè redditum.

I.

Mnia Nox tenebris, tacitâque involverat um

Et feffos homines vinxerat alta quies; Cum valve patuere & paffu illapfa filenti, Thyrfidis ad lectum ftabat image Chloes.

II.

[bra,

Vultus erat, qualis lachrymofi vultus Aprilis, Cui dubia hyberno conditur imbre dies; Quaque fepulchralem a pedibus collegit amictum, Candidior nivibus, frigidiorque Manus.

III.

Cumque dies aberunt molles, & lata juventus,
Gloria pallebit fic, Cypariffi, tua:

Cùm mors decutiet capiti diademata, Regum
Hac erit in trabeâ confpiciendus Honos.

IV.

Her Bloom was like the fpringing Flow'r,

That fips the filver Dew;

The Rofe was budded in her Cheek,

And opening to the View,

V.

But Love had, like the Canker-Worm,

Confum'd her early Prime:

The Rofe grew pale, and left her Cheek;

She dy'd before her Time,

VI.

Awake, fhe cry'd, thy true Love calls,
Come from her Midnight Grave;

Now let thy Pity hear the Maid,!
Thy Love refus'd to save,

VIII.

This is the dark and fearful Hour,

When injur'd Ghosts complain;

Now

IV.

Forma fuit (dum forma fuit) nafcentis ad inftar

Floris, cui cano gemmula rore tumet;
Et veneres rifere, & fubrubuere labella,
Subrubet ut teneris purpura prima rofis.

V.

Sed lenta exedit tabes mollemque ruborem,
Et faciles rifus, & juvenile decus:

Et rofa paulatim languens, nudata reliquit
Ofcula; præripuit mors properata Chloen,

VI.

Excute Te fomnis; nocturno egreffa fepulchro
Evocat infidum Thyrfida fida Chloe.

Tandem o! nunc tandem miferere, audique puellam,
Cui tuus invidit vivere durus amor.

VII.

He tenebræ querulos manes, hæc elicit Hora,
Ut tumulis referent humida clauftra fuis;

Now dreary Graves give up their Dead,

To haunt the faithless Swain.

VIII.

Bethink thee, William, of thy Fault,
Thy Pledge, and broken Oath;
And give me back my Maiden Vow,
And give me back my Troth.

IX.

How could you fay my Face was fair,
And yet that Face forfake?

How could you win my Virgin Heart,
Yet leave that Heart to break?

X.

How could you promife Love to me,

And not that Promise keep?

Why did you fwear mine Eyes were bright,

Yet leave those Eyes to weep?

XI. How