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Through the long night within the hall
Was heard a doleful wail —
The wiJowed and the fatherless
Who mourned the fatal tale.
The morning comes, but not to soothe
The wounded bosom's woe,
To heal the aching heart and dry
The bitter tears that flow.
" lay me on my widow'd bed,"
The lady faintly said,
" And when I die, O let me be
By my dead lover laid !
My love, I'll share thy narrow bed,
I soon will meet with thee ;
I come, my love, for well I know
I Thy spirit waits for me.
I O farewell, earth, with all thy charms !
I Where joy no more I'll find,
< My love is gone and left me, and
I I cannot stay behind."
I They thought she slumbered when they gazed
\ On her smooth cheeks so fair,
< And calm her features, beautiful,
\ But " life was wanting there."
s This ballad is the production of J. D. Brown, author of " The Bard of
^ Glazart," a poet of Nature's own making. He was brought up as a
? ploughboy, and in a great measure educated himself. He was recently a
) teacher, and is novt' connected, as traveller, with the Ayr Observer.

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