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281
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.
Her face was like an April morn,
Clad in a wintry cloud ,•
And clay-cold was her lilie hand,
That held the sable shroud.*
So shall the fairest face appear,
When youth and years are floAvn ;
Such is the robe that kings must wear,
When death has reft their crown.
Her bloom was like the springing flower,
That sips the silver dew ;
The rose was budded in her cheek,
Just opening to the view.
But love had, like the canker-worm,
Consumed her early prime :
The rose grew pale, and left her cheek ;
She died before her time.
" Awake !" she cried; " thy true love calls;
Come from her midnight grave ;
Now let thy pity hear the maid
Thy love refused to save.
This is the dark and dreary hour,
When injured ghosts complain ;
Now yawning graves give up their dead,
To haunt the faithless swain.
These lines have acquired an importance, by giving birth to one of the
most beautiful ballads in our own or any language, * Margaret's Ghost.' "
— Percy's Reliques, vol. iv-
Margaret's Ghost is given in continuation, from the same work.
* This is, perhaps, the only instance in popular poetry, of a ghost being
described as appearing in black attire.