MARY OF CAMBRIA.--A SONNET.
(_For the Mirror._)


There was a maiden once would come and sit
Upon our mountain, the long summer day;
And watch'd the sun, till he had beauteous lit
The mist-envelop'd rocks of Mona grey:
Beneath whose base, the timid hinds would say,
Her lover perish'd; and from that dread hour,
Bereft of reason's mind ennobling ray,
Poor Mary droop'd: Llanellian's fairest flower!
Why gazeth she thus lone; can those soft eyes
Interpret aught in each dim cloud above?
Yes, there's more joy in her wild phantasies
Than reasons in its sober power could prove.
List to her wild laugh now; she smiles and cries,
It is my William's form; he beckons from you skies.

_The Author of a Tradesman's Lays_[4]

[4] In our correspondent's notice of Mrs. Hemans in No. 550, for
"Lady then," read "this Lady."

This little metrical record is founded on fact. In the year 1808, a
young female visited the grey, sterile mountain tract of Cefu Ogo, in
Denbighshire, each day successively for two months. Her lover, who was a
seaman on board one of the Welsh traders, had often met her there, and a
tranquil, uninterrupted walk it afforded them, for exchanging the