She should see her mother there,
Walking in the groves so fair.
When to soothe the child I said,
She should see mamma in heaven,
To that frail old bridge she sped
As if wings to her were given;
And—but look—you see 'tis riven!
Ah! you start—your looks are wild—
Calm yourself old man, I pray;
Fanny was an angel child,
And 'tis well she's gone away
To her Paradise so gay!
QUEEN MARY'S LOVER.
Thine the warrant, lovely Mary, thine the hand that writes my
doom!
Thou shalt see how dies a lover when his mistress opes his tomb;
Matchless Mary, divine Mary, Love's and Beauty's peerless queen,
Death has not a pang to daunt me, not a terror that can haunt me;
What thou sendest to me, Mary, I can meet with smiling mien.
Call me not an impious traitor! he who loves so well as I
Hell nor heaven could make disloyal, though his madness make him die.
Heaven preserve thee when I perish other friends that are as true;
Traitors' gilded snares may find thee, and their cunning toils may bind thee.
Then may love like mine, O Mary, live to show its truth to you.
