Through wood and wild, they speed their way,

Then sweep along the plain,

And almost at the break of day,

The Danube's banks they gain.

-"Now stop ye, Raymond, ftop ye here,

"And view the farther fide

;

"Difmount, and fay Sir Knight, do'ft fear, "With me to ftem the tide.".

Now on the utmost brink they stand,
And gaze upon the flood,

She seized Don Raymond by the hand,
Her grafp it froze his blood.

A whirling blast from off the stream
Threw back the maiden's veil;
Don Raymond gave a hideous fcream,
And felt his fpirits fail

Then down his limbs, in ftrange affright,
Cold dews to pour begun ;

No Agnes met his shudd'ring fight,
-"God! 'Tis the Bleeding Nun !”—

"Oh Raymond! Raymond! I am thine,

"And leave thee will I never ;

"I am thine, and thou art mine, "Body and foul for ever!"

Don Raymond fhrieks, he faints; the blood.

Ran cold in every vein,

He fank into the roaring flood,

And never rose again !

No. LIII.

THE MAID OF THE MOOR,

OR

THE WATER FIENDS.

G. COLMAN, JUN.

This Tale, which is unavoidably misplaced, fhould have formed No. xxxvi.

ON a wild moor, all brown and bleak,

Where broods the heath frequenting growfe,

There stood a tenement antique,

Lord Hoppergollop's country house.

Here filence reign'd with lips of glue,

And undisturb'd maintain'd her law;

Save when the owl cried-" whoo! whoo! whoo!"Or the hoarfe crow croak'd-" caw! caw! caw!"

Neglected

Neglected manfion! for 'tis faid,

Whene'er the fnow came feathering down, Four barbed fteeds, from the Bull's-head, Carried thy mafter up to town.

Weak Hoppergollop! Lords may moan,
Who ftake in London their eftate,
On two small rattling bits of bone,
On little figure, or on great.

Swift whirl the wheels, he's gone ;-a Rofe
Remains behind, whofe virgin look,

Unseen, must blush in wint'ry snows;

Sweet beauteous bloffom! 'twas the Cook!

Maid of the Moor! thy charms demand:
Eels might be proud to lose their coat,
If fkinn'd by Molly Dumpling's hand.

Long had the fair one fat alone,
Had none remain'd, fave only fhe;
She by herself had been, if one

Had not been left for company.

"Twas a tall youth, whofe cheek's clear hue Was tinged with health and manly toil; Cabbage he fow'd, and when it grew,

He always cut it off to boil,

Oft

Oft would he cry,-"Delve, delve the hole! "And prune the tree, and trim the root! "And stick the wig upon the pole,

"To fcare the fparrows from the fruit !"

A fmall mute favourite by day

Follow'd his steps; where'er he wheels
His barrow round the garden gay,
A bob-tail cur is at his heels.

Ah man! the brute creation fee,
Thy conftancy oft need to spur!
While leffons of fidelity,

Are found in every bob-tail cur.

Hard toil'd the youth, fo fresh and strong,

While Bob-tail in his face would look, And mark'd his mafter troll the fong, -"Sweet Molly Dumpling! O, thou Cook !"

For thus he fung: while Cupid fmiled,

Pleafed that the Gard'ner own'd his dart; Which pruned his paffions, running wild, And grafted true-love on his heart.

Maid of the Moor, his love return!

True love ne'er tints the cheek with fhame;
When gard'ners' hearts, like hot-beds burn,
A cook may furely feed the flame.

Ah!