MARY GREY. 63 



She lived entirely with her grandfather, in a cottage 

 which he occupied by the side of one of the fish- 

 ponds ; and here Mary employed herself in thinking 

 of her lost lover, until her mind was in a state of 

 melancholy, nearly allied to derangement. She 

 sometimes might be seen, sitting on the little sloping 

 green turf which led from the cottage to the water, 

 surrounded by the poultry which she fed and 

 tended ; at others she walked in the adjoining 

 wood, singing little melancholy songs descriptive 

 of her blighted hopes, some of which she had com- 

 posed herself. She was in that forlorn condition 



1 When fate 

 ' First leaves the young heart lone and desolate.' 



Her lover was also a poet, and after he had quitted 

 her, he sent her some trifling token of his affection, 

 and the following melancholy lines, both of which 

 Mary treasured up as if they were the only riches 

 which fortune had left her. I subsequently ob- 

 tained a sight of these lines, which were nearly to 

 the following effect. 



Oh know'st thou why ; to distance driven 



When lovers weep the parting hour, 

 The simplest gift that moment given, 



Long, long retains a magic power. 



Still, when it meets my Mary's view, 



Can half the theft of time retrieve, 

 Can scenes of former bliss renew, 



And bid each dear remembrance live. 



