Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.
Thomas Campbell CXCVII. The Maid of NeidpathE
And, smit with grief to view her—
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled
Shall be restored to woo her.
His coming to discover;
And he look’d up to Ellen’s bower,
And she look’d on her lover.
Though her smile on him was dwelling.
“And am I then forgot—forgot?”
It broke the heart of Ellen.
Her cheek is cold as ashes;
Nor love’s own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.