BALLAD,

FOUNDED ON FACT.

ROUND youthful Henry's restless bed
 His weeping friends and parents pressed;
 But she who raised his languid head
 He loved far more than all the rest. 

Fond mutual love their bosoms fired;
 And nearly dawned their bridal day,
 When every hope at once expired,
 For Henry on his death-bed lay. 

The fatal truth the sufferer read
 In weeping Lucy's downcast eye:
 "And must I, must I, then," he said,
 "Ere thou art mine, my Lucy, die! 

 "No, ... deign to grant my last, last prayer;
 'T would soothe thy lover's parting breath,
 Wouldst thou with me to church repair,
 Ere yet I feel the stroke of death. 

 "For trust me, love, I shall my life
 With something like to joy resign,
 If I but once may call thee wife,
 And, dying, claim and hail thee mine." 

He ceased: and Lucy checked the thought
 That he might at the altar die, .... 
The prayer with such true love was fraught,
 How could she such a prayer deny? 

They reached the church .... her cheek was wan
 With chilling fears of coming woe .... 
But triumph when the rites began
 Lent Henry's cheek a flattering glow. 

The nuptial knot was scarcely tied,
 When Henry's eye strange lustre fired,
 "She's mine! she's mine!" he faltering cried,
 And in that throb of joy expired.