In early life his wife had died;
A son he ne'er had known;
And Margaret, his age's pride,
Was heir to him alone.
In course of time, Margaret became affianced to a young knight, and their wedding-day was fixed. On the evening preceding it, her father, in accordance with custom, gave a banquet to his friends, in order that they might congratulate him on the approaching happy union. He stood up to thank them for their kind wishes, and in alluding to the young knight—in a few hours time to be his daughter's husband—he jestingly called him his son:—
But while the dear unpractised word
Still lingered on his tongue,
He saw a silvery breasted bird
Fly o'er the festive throng.
Swift as the lightning's flashes fleet,
And lose their brilliant light,
Sir James sank back upon his seat
Pale and entranced with fright.
With some difficulty he managed to conceal the cause of his embarrassment, but on the following day the priest had scarcely begun the marriage service,
When Margaret with terrific screams
Made all with horror start.
Good heavens! her blood in torrents streams,
A dagger in her heart.
The deed had been done by a discarded lover, who, by the aid of a clever disguise, had managed to station himself just behind her:—
"Now marry me, proud maid," he cried,
"Thy blood with mine shall wed";
He dashed the dagger in his side,
And at her feet fell dead.
And this pathetic ballad concludes by telling us how
Poor Margaret, too, grows cold with death,
And round her hovering flies
The phantom bird for her last breath,
To bear it to the skies.