Metrical tales, and other poems; - Electric Scotland

41
There is a magic in her voice
Beyond magician's skill.
Eight pretty are the maids of France,
Dispute the fact who dare !
And heautiful the maids of Spain,
With bright black eyes and hair
But ne'er a girl in all the world
With Mary may compare.
Where'er I go she fills my heart
There's room for none save she ;
She is so fair, she is so kind.
So all that best can be
My love is all for Mary Ann,
And Mary's all for me.
THE POET'S ,TALE.
PAULINE.
In a humble cemetery, on one of the hills overlooking Rouen, there
was to be seen, in the year 1867, an unpretending stone slab bearing an
inscription, of which the following is a literal translation :
" To her affianced Henry, separated from her by the Conscription, and
verses :
believed to have fallen in Wagram, his first battle-field.
"Eternal Regrets!
" Pauline, deceased 1832."
Out of the history briefly told in that inscription arose the following
HAVE climbed to woo the Muses
High o'er the Norman plain,
On my right a Norman city.
At my feet the wmding Seine ;