Grigor's Ghost/Part 3

by Anonymous

PART III.

Being near Fort Nigaria, the year fifty-nine,
On the thirtieth of July, as he did always incline
To frequent the green woods, or some distant place,
And breathe out in sorrow, his mind to solace.

Among the savage Indians, alas! there he fell,
But how he was murder'd we cannot well tell;
For the next morning they found him there dead,
Two Indians lay by him who wanted their heads.

He cut with his broad sword, as they understood,
And then all around him was nothing but blood.
Five wounds in his body, his hair scalpt away,
His cloaths, sword, and pistol, of all made a prey.

One of his fingers from his hand they had cut,
Whereon was the ring from his love he had got;
And at that very moment in Scotland we hear,
A most dreadful spectre to his love did appear.

For as she was weeping under the green oak,
He quickly pass'd by her, but not a word spoke;
Shaking his left hand, where the ring he did wear,
Which wanted a finger and blood dropping there.

Whereat the young lady was struck with amaze,
And rose to run after, and on it did gaze,
As she knew in was Grigor; but how in this place,
It made her to wonder and dread the sad case.

With terror and grief home she did retire,
And spent the whole night in weeping and prayer.
So early next morning she rose by the sun,
Went back to the green oak to weep all alone.

For always she esteemed that place, as we hear,
As on it she got the last sight of her dear;
And as she sat weeping and tearing her hair,
Again the pale spectre to her did appear—

And with a mild aspect it stared in her face,
Then said, O dear Kitty, do not me embrace;
For I'm but a spirit, tho' shining in blood,
My body lies murder'd in a foreign wood.

There's two wounds in my breast, and three in my side,
With hatchets and arrows, both deep and wide;
My scalp of fine hair for a premium is sold,
And also my finger, with the ring of pure gold.

Which you put upon it, as a mark of true love,
Love's stronger than death, for it does not remove;
For my earnest desire is for you my dear,
And till you be with me I’ll still wander here.

For this world’s but vanity, all is a vain show,
It’s nought to the pleasures where we are to go.
She then went to embrace him being void of fright,
But he in a moment went out of her sight.

Then home in great haste to her father did run,
Cry’d, oh! cruel father, now what have you done,
Grigor, loved Grigor came to me all in blood,
And his body lies murder'd in a foreign ⟨wood⟩.

He shew’d me his wounds and each bloody score,
And therefore my pleasure on earth is no more.
Her father looked at her as one being amaz'd,
Then said, my dear Kitty, your brain it is craz’d!

But still she maintain’d it, and cry’d like a child,
Never after was seen for to laugh or to smile.
They brought her all doctors, whose skill was in fame,
Who still gave opinion she was sound in the brain.

Her body decay’d, and her face turned pale,
She soar’d to her true love beyond death’s dark vale.
First her, then her mother, the same night expired—
I hope now she enjoys the bliss she desired.

Now the old man he cries, bereft of all joys,
Tho’ he has plenty of gold, no girls nor boys.
Let all cruel parents by this take great heed,
His pretty young daughter is now with the dead.

 

FINIS