NANCY LEWIS,

(A CASTLE BAYNARD LYRIC.)

(For the Mirror.)

My peace is fled—I cannot rest,—

The tale I tell most true is;

My heart's been stolen from my breast,

By lovely Nancy Lewis.

Fair is the blossom of the thorn,

And bright the morning dew is;

But sweeter than the dewy morn

The smiles of Nancy Lewis.

The eye that's sparkling black I love,

Ay, more than that which blue is;

And thine are like two stars above,

And sloe black—Nancy Lewis.

Alas! alas! their power I feel;

My bosom pierced right through is:

In pity, then, my bosom heal,

My charming Nancy Lewis.

Oh! bless me with thy heaven of charms,

And take a heart that true is,

While circling life my bosom warms

In thine dear Nancy Lewis.