Where Dee's soft waters gently glide,thro' myrtles, flow'ry dale,Meek Ellen shone in youthful pride,tee beauty of the vale!Her form was gentle, and her mindfrom overy fully free;To render pity still inclin'd,sweet Ellen of the Dee.
While blooming Henry mark'd her charm,who long had known her fame,He gaz'd, and lov'd, and in his armsshe own'd an equal flame.Tho' he had sprung of noble race,and she of low degree,Yet none to beauty added gracelike Ellen of the Dee.
But when the secret of his hearthis haughty parents knew,They strove with unremitting arthis purpose to undo;Who (joyless in the splendid dome,with dames of high degree,)Found pleasure in his humbler fame,with Ellen of the Dee.
To foreign climes he then was sent,to please parental pride;Reluctantly poor Henry went,left Ellen's charms, and died!They griev'd too late, his fate to hear,and curs'd the stern decree,Which pride inspir'd, his heart to tearfrom Ellen of the Dee.
Who still, when ev'ning softly flingsher shadows o'er the glade,⟨On⟩ Dee's lone margin strays and singssweet dirges to his shade.⟨Tho'⟩ happiness be not her lot,no murmurs utters she;⟨Meek⟩ resignation shares the cotwith Ellen of the Dee.
