Ellen More (1824, Edinburgh)/Ellen More
ELLEN MORE.
THE Sun had kiss'd green Erin's waves,
The dark blue mountains tower'd between,
Mild evening's dew's refresh'd the leaves,
The meon unclouded rose rerene;
When Ellen wander'd ⟨forth,⟩ unseen,
All lone her sorrows to deplore,
False was her lover, false her friend,
And false was hope to Ellen More.
Young Henry was fair Ellen's love,
Young Emma to his heart was dear,
No weal or woe did Ellen prove,
But Emma ever seem'd to share;
Yet, envious, still she spread the wile,
That sullied Ellen's virtue o'er,
Her faithful Henry spurn'd the while
His fair, his faithful Ellen More.
She wander'd down Loch-Mary side,
Where oft at evening hour she stole,
To meet her love with secret pride,
Now deepest anguish wrang her soul.
O'ercome with grief she sought the steep
Were Yarrow falls with sullen roar,
O pity veil thy eyes aud weep.
A bleeding corpse lies Ellen More.
The sun way shine on Yarrow braes,
And woo the mountain flow'rs to bloom,
But never can his golden ⟨rays⟩,
Awake the flower in yonder tomb.
There oft young Henry strays forlorn,
When moonlight glides the abbey tower,
There oft from eve'tid breezy morn,
He weeps his faithful Ellen More.