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Broadside ballad entitled 'Mary, the Maid of the Inn'


Mary, the Maid of the Inn.


Copies can always be had in the POET'S BOX, 80 London Street, Glasgow,

Who is she, the poor maniac, whose wildly fix'd eyes

Seem a heart overcharged to express ??
She weeps .not, yet often and deeply she sighs;
She never complains; but Silence implies

The composure of settled distress.

No aid,.no compassion, the maniac will seek.

Cold and hunger awake not her care:
Through the rags do the winds of the winter blow bleak,
On her poor wither'd bosom, half bare, and her cheek

Has the deadly pale hue of despair.

Yet cheerful and happy (nor distant the day)

Poor Mary the maniac has been:
The trav'ller remembers, who journey'd this way,
No damsel so lovely, no damsel so gay,

As Mary, the maid of the inn.

Her cheerful address fill'd the guests with delight,

As she welcom'd them in with a smile;
Her.heart was a stranger to childish affright,
And Mary would walk by the abbey at night,

When the wind whistled down the dark aisle.

She lov'd?and young.Richard had settled the day?

And she hop'd to be happy for life:
But Richard was idle and worthless; and they
Who knew him, would pity poor Mary and say,

That she was too good for his wife.

'Twas in autumn, and stormy and dark was the night,

And fast were the windows and door;
Two guests sat enjoying the fire that burnt bright,
And smoking in silence, with tranquil delight,

"They listen'd to hear the wind roar."

"'Tis pleasant," cried one, "seated by the fireside,

To hear the wind whistle without;"

"A fine night for the abbey," his comrade replied:
"Methinks a man's courage would now be wel! tried
Who should wander the ruins about.

" I myself, like a schoolboy, should tremble to hear

The hoarse ivy shake over my head:
And could fancy I saw, half pursued by my fear,
Some ugly old abbot's white spirit appear,      

For this wind might awaken the dead."

" I'll wager a dinner," the other one cried,
" That Mary' would venture there now;"
" Then wager and lose," with a sneer he replied,
" I'11 warrant she'd fancy a ghost by her side,
And faint if she saw a white cow."

"Will Mary this charge on her courage allow?"

His companion exclaim'd with a smile;
" I shall win, for I know she will venture there now,
And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough

From the alder that grows in the aisle."

With fearless good humour did Mary comply,

And her way to the;abbey she bent;
The. night it was gloomy, the wind it was high,
And, as hollowly howling it swept through the sky,

She shiver'd with cold as she went.

O'er the path, so well known, still proceeded the maid,

Where the abbey rose dim at her sight;
Through the gateway she enter'd, she felt not afraid,
Yet the ruins were lonely and wild, and their shade'.

Seem'd to deepen the gloom of the night.

All around her was silent, save when the rude blast

Howl'd dismally round the old pile;
Over weed-covered fragments still fearless she pass'd,
And arriv'd at the innermost ruin at last,

Where the alder-tree grew in the aisle.

Well pleas'd did she reach it, and quickly drew near.
And hastily gather'd a bough,

She paus'd, and she listen'd, all eager to hear,
And her heart panted fearfully now.

The wind blew, the hoarse ivy shook over her head ;?

She listen'd;?nought else could she hear:
The wind ceas'd; her heart sunk in her bosom with dread,
For she heard in the ruins distinctly the tread
Of footsteps approaching her near.

Behind a wide column, half breathless with fear,

She crept to conceal herself there:
That instant the moon o'er a dark cloud shone clear,
And she saw in the moonlight two ruffians appear,

And between them a corse they did bear.

Then Mary could feel her heart's blood curdle cold,

Again the rough wind hurried by-
It blew off the hat of the one, and behold,
Even close to the feet of poor Mary it roll'd:

She fell?and expected to die.

" Curse the hat!"?he exclaim'd?" nay, come on and
first hide

The dead body," his comrade replies.
She beheld them in safety pass on by her side,
She seizes the hat, fear her courage supplied,

As fast through the abbey she flies.

She ran with wild speed, she rush'd in at the door,

She cast her eyes horribly round;
Her limbs could support their faint burden no more;
But, exhausted and breathless, she sunk on the floor.

Unable to utter a sound.

Ere yet the pale lips could the story impart,

For a moment the hat met her view:
Her eyes from that object convulsively start,
For, oh God !what cold horrors thrill'd thro' her heart

When the name of her Richard she knew !

Where the old abbey stands on a common hard by,

His gibbet is now to be seen;
Not far from the inn it engages the eye,
The trav'ller beholds it, and thinks, with a sigh,

Of poor Mary, the maid of the inn.

The POET is universally admitted to be the Cheapest
LETTERPRESS PRINTER in the City. Posters, Handbills,
Society Articles, Circulars, and all kinds of Business or
other Cards, executed neatly and expeditiously.

Letters and Petitions written by the Poet on the most
moderate terms.

Songs, Parodies, and Epitaphs written by the Poet on
the shortest notice. Terms, 2s 6d and upwards

Saturday morning, July 3,1869.

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Date of publication: 1869   shelfmark: L.C.Fol.70(56)
Broadside ballad entitled 'Mary, the Maid of the Inn'
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