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The Lord of Burleigh.
In her ear he whispers gaily,
If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watched thee daily, And I think thou lovest me well." She replies, in accents fainter,
"There is none I love like thee." He is but a landscape-painter,
And a village maiden she. He to lips, that fondly falter,
Presses his without reproof; Leads her to the village altar,
And they leave her father's roof "I can make no marriage present; Little can I give my wife,
Love will make our cottage pleasant, And I love thee more than life." They by parks and lodges going
See the lordly castles stand : Summer woods, about them blowing, Made a murmur in the land. From deep thought himself he rouses, Says to her that loves him well, "Let us see these handsome houses Where the wealthy nobles dwell."
So she goes by him attended,
Lay betwixt his home and her's;
Parks and ordered gardens great, Ancient homes of lord and lady,
Built for pleasure and for state. All he shows her makes him dearer:
Evermore she seems to gaze
On that cottage growing nearer,
Where they twain will spend their days.
O but she will love him truly!
He shall have a cheerful home; She will order all things duly,
When beneath his roof they come. Thus her heart rejoices greatly,
Till a gateway she discerns With armorial bearings stately,
And beneath the gate she turns; Sees a mansion more majestic
Than all those she saw before:
Bows before him at the door.
Here he lives in state and bounty,
Is so great a lord as he.
Her sweet face from brow to chin: As it were with shame she blushes, And her spirit changed within Then her countenance all over
Pale again as death did prove;
And he cheered her soul with love.
And her gentle mind was such
And the people loved her much. But a trouble weighed upon her,
And perplexed her, night and morn, With the burthen of an honour
Unto which she was not born.
As she murmured, "Oh, that he