Strew flowers and drop the tender tear,
Nor then regret those scenes so gay,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?”
When the ballad was first published it is said to have been exceedingly popular, and greatly enhanced the reputation of its author. The Gentleman’s Magazine for 1780 speaks of it as being “not undeservedly” regarded as “the most beautiful song in the English language.”
Mrs. Percy was a native of Northamptonshire, and the daughter of Barton Gutteridge, Esq., of Desborough. Her union with Dr. Percy proved to be a very happy one, though clouded over on several occasions with grief and sorrow at the loss of some of their children, particularly at the death of their only son Henry, a promising young man of twenty years of age. The greatest affection existed between husband and wife, and continued to the end of their days. A very pleasing illustration of this fact is given in Pickford’s Life of Percy. The incident occurred in Ireland when Percy held the see of Dromore. On one occasion, when the bishop was from home, a violent storm came on in the evening, and was of such a character that the friends with whom he was staying earnestly entreated him to remain for the night, but the companionship of the “Nanny of his Muse” was a more powerful magnet than the pleading of kind friends or shelter from the tempest, so he ventured forth heedless of the howling winds and drenching rain. Subsequently he commemorated the event by writing the following lines, which were first published in 1867:—
“Deep howls the storm with chilling blast,
Fast falls the snow and rain,
Down rush the floods with headlong haste,
And deluge all the plain.
“Yet all in vain the tempests roar,