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Mary Darby Robinson - The Granny Grey, a Love TaleMary Darby Robinson - The Granny Grey, a Love Tale
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DAME DOWSON, was a granny grey,    Who, three score years and ten, Had pass`d her busy hours away,    In talking of the Men ! They were her theme, at home, abroad, At wake, and by the winter fire, Whether it froze, or blew, or thaw`d, In sunshine or in shade, her ire Was never calm`d; for still she made Scandal her pleasure—and her trade! A Grand-daughter DAME DOWSON had—    As fair, as fair could be! Lovely enough to make Men mad; For, on her cheek`s soft downy rose LOVE seem`d in dimples to repose; Her clear blue eyes look`d mildly bright Like ether drops of liquid light, Or sapphire gems,—which VENUS bore, When, for the silver-sanded shore,    She left her native Sea! ANNETTA, was the damsel`s name; A pretty, soft, romantic sound; Such as a lover`s heart may wound;    And set his fancy in a flame: For had the maid been christen`d JOAN,    Or DEBORAH, or HESTER,— The little God had coldly prest her,    Or, let her quite alone! For magic is the silver sound— Which, often, in a NAME is found! ANNETTA was belov`d; and She    To WILLIAM gave her vows; For WILLIAM was as brave a Youth, As ever claim`d the meed of truth,    And, to reward such constancy,        Nature that meed allows. But Old DAME DOWSON could not bear A Youth so brave—a Maid so fair. The GRANNY GREY, with maxims grave Oft to ANNETTA lessons gave: And still the burthen of the Tale Was, "Keep the wicked Men away, "For should their wily arts prevail    "You`ll surely rue the day!" And credit was to GRANNY due, The truth, she, by EXPERIENCE, knew! ANNETTA blush`d, and promis`d She Obedient to her will would be. But Love, with cunning all his own, Would never let the Maid alone: And though she dar`d not see her Lover, Lest GRANNY should the deed discover, She, for a woman`s weapon, still, From CUPID`S pinion pluck`d a quill: And, with it, prov`d that human art Cannot confine the Female Heart. At length, an assignation She    With WILLIAM slily made, It was beneath an old Oak Tree,    Whose widely spreading shade The Moon`s soft beams contriv`d to break For many a Village Lover`s sake. But Envy has a Lynx`s eye And GRANNY DOWSON cautious went Before, to spoil their merriment,    Thinking no creature nigh. Young WILLIAM came; but at the tree The watchful GRANDAM found! Straight to the Village hasten`d he And summoning his neighbours round, The Hedgerow`s tangled boughs among, Conceal`d the list`ning wond`ring throng. He told them that, for many a night, An OLD GREY OWL was heard; A fierce, ill-omen`d, crabbed Bird— Who fill`d the village with affright. He swore this Bird was large and keen, With claws of fire, and eye-balls green; That nothing rested, where she came; That many pranks the monster play`d, And many a timid trembling Maid    She brought to shame For negligence, that was her own; Turning the milk to water, clear, And spilling from the cask, small-beer; Pinching, like fairies, harmless lasses, And shewing Imps, in looking-glasses; Or, with heart-piercing groan, Along the church-yard path, swift gliding, Or, on a broomstick, witchlike, riding. All listen`d trembling;  For the Tale Made cheeks of Oker, chalky pale; The young a valiant doubt pretended; The old believ`d, and all attended. Now to DAME DOWSON he repairs And in his arms, enfolds the Granny: Kneels at her feet, and fondly swears    He will be true as any ! Caresses her with well feign`d bliss And, fearfully , implores a Kiss— On the green turf distracted lying , He wastes his ardent breath, in sighing. The DAME was silent; for the Lover    Would, when she spoke,    She fear`d, discover    Her envious joke: And she was too much charm`d to be In haste,—to end the Comedy! Now WILLIAM, weary of such wooing, Began, with all his might, hollooing:— When suddenly from ev`ry bush The eager throngs impatient rush; With shouting, and with boist`rous glee    DAME DOWSON they pursue, And from the broad Oak`s canopy, O`er moonlight fields of sparkling dew, They bear in triumph the Old DAME, Bawling, with loud Huzza`s, her name; "A witch, a witch !" the people cry, "A witch !" the echoing hills reply: `Till to her home the GRANNY came, Where, to confirm the tale of shame, Each rising day they went, in throngs, With ribbald jests, and sportive songs, `Till GRANNY of her spleen, repented; And to young WILLIAM`S ardent pray`r, To take, for life, ANNETTA fair,—     At last ,—CONSENTED. And should this TALE, fall in the way Of LOVERS CROSS`D, or GRANNIES GREY,— Let them confess, `tis made to prove— The wisest heads ,—TOO WEAK FOR LOVE!
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