Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
 
T. Campbell
 
CXCVII. The Maid of Neidpath
 
EARL MARCH look'd on his dying child, 
  And, smit with grief to view her— 
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled 
  Shall be restored to woo her. 
  
She's at the window many an hour         5
  His coming to discover; 
And he look'd up to Ellen's bower, 
  And she look'd on her lover. 
  
But ah! so pale, he knew her not, 
  Though her smile on him was dwelling.  10
"And am I then forgot—forgot?" 
  It broke the heart of Ellen. 
  
In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, 
  Her cheek is cold as ashes; 
Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes  15
  To lift their silken lashes. 
 
 
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