Where Dee's soft waters gently glide, thro' myrtles, flow'ry dale, Meek Ellen shone in youthful pride, tee beauty of the vale! Her form was gentle, and her mind from overy fully free; To render pity still inclin'd, sweet Ellen of the Dee.
While blooming Henry mark'd her charm, who long had known her fame, He gaz'd, and lov'd, and in his arms she own'd an equal flame. Tho' he had sprung of noble race, and she of low degree, Yet none to beauty added grace like Ellen of the Dee.
But when the secret of his heart his haughty parents knew, They strove with unremitting art his purpose to undo; Who (joyless in the splendid dome, with dames of high degree,) Found pleasure in his humbler fame, with Ellen of the Dee.
To foreign climes he then was sent, to please parental pride; Reluctantly poor Henry went, left Ellen's charms, and died! They griev'd too late, his fate to hear, and curs'd the stern decree, Which pride inspir'd, his heart to tear from Ellen of the Dee.
Who still, when ev'ning softly flings her shadows o'er the glade, ⟨On⟩ Dee's lone margin strays and sings sweet dirges to his shade. ⟨Tho'⟩ happiness be not her lot, no murmurs utters she; ⟨Meek⟩ resignation shares the cot with Ellen of the Dee.
