O lovers- eyes are sharp to see,
And lovers- ears in hearing;
And love, in life-s extremity,
Can lend an hour of cheering.
Disease had been in Mary-s bower
And slow decay from mourning,
Though now she sits on Neidpath-s tower
To watch her Love-s returning.

All sunk and dim her eyes so bright,
Her form decay-d by pining,
Till through her wasted hand, at night,
You saw the taper shining.
By fits a sultry hectic hue
Across her cheek was flying;
By fits so ashy pale she grew
Her maidens thought her dying.

Yet keenest powers to see and hear
Seem-d in her frame residing;
Before the watch-dog prick-d his ear
She heard her lover-s riding;
Ere scarce a distant form was kenn-d
She knew and waved to greet him,
And o-er the battlement did bend
As on the wing to meet him.

He came-he pass-d-an heedless gaze
As o-er some stranger glancing:
Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase,
Lost in his courser-s prancing-
The castle-arch, whose hollow tone
Returns each whisper spoken,
Could scarcely catch the feeble moan
Which told her heart was broken.