The wand’ring, dingy, gabbling race,
Crowded in merry mood.
And now she loiter’d near the scene.
Now peep’d the hazle copse between;
Fearful that Lubin might be near
The story of her Fate to hear.—
She saw the feasting circle gay
By the stol’n faggot’s yellow light;
She heard them, as in sportive play,
They chear’d the sullen gloom of night.