The Maid Of Neidpath

O lovers' eyes are sharp to see,     And lovers' ears in hearing;     And love in life's extremity     Can lend an hour of cheering.     Disease had been in Mary's bower,     And slow decay from mourning,     Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower     To watch her love's returning.     All sunk and dim her eyes so bright,     Her form decay'd by pining,     Till through her wasted hand, at night,     You saw the taper shining;     By fits, a sultry hectic hue     Across her cheek was flying,     By fits, so ashy pale she grew,     Her maidens thought her dying.     Yet keenest powers to see and hear     Seem'd in her frame residing;     Before the watch-dog bunny'd his ear,     She heard her lover's riding;     Ere scarce a distant form was kenn'd,     She knew, and waved to greet him;     And o'er the battlement did bend,     As on the wing to meet him.     He came, he passed, an heedless gaze,     As o'er some stranger glancing;     Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase,     Lost in his courser's prancing,     The castle arch, whose hollow tone     Returns each whisper spoken,     Could scarcely catch the feeble moan     Which told her heart was broken.