XVI.

MARGARET'S GHOST.

This ballad, which appeared in some of the public newspapers in or before the year 1724, came from the pen of David Mallet, Esq. who in the edition of his poems, 3 vols. 1759, informs us that the plan was suggested by the four verses quoted above in page 124, which he supposed to be the beginning of some ballad now lost.

"These lines, says he, naked of ornament and simple, as they are, struck my fancy; and bringing fresh into my mind an unhappy adventure much talked of formerly, gave birth to the following poem, which was written many years ago."

The two introductory lines (and one or two others elsewhere) had originally more of the ballad simplicity, viz.

"When all was wrapt in dark midnight, And all were fast asleep," &c.

In a late publication, intitled, _The Friends_, &c. Lond. 1773, 2 vols. 12mo. (in the first volume, p. 71) is inserted a copy of the foregoing ballad, with very great variations, which the editor of that work contends was the original; and that Mallet adopted it for his own and altered it, as here given.--But the superior beauty and simplicity of the present copy, gives it so much more the air of an original, that it will rather be believed that some transcriber altered it from Mallet's, and adapted the lines to his own taste; than which nothing is more common in popular songs and ballads.

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[This ballad, more generally known as _William and Margaret_, is supposed to have been printed for the first time in Aaron Hill's _Plain Dealer_ (No. 36, July 24, 1724), when the author was a very young man. Hill introduced it to the reader as the work of an old poet, and wrote, "I am sorry I am not able to acquaint my readers with his name to whom we owe this melancholy piece of finished poetry under the humble title of a ballad." In the following month the editor announced that "he had discovered the author to be still alive." The verses were probably written in 1723, in the August of which year Mallet left Scotland, for Allan Ramsay, in his _Stanzas to Mr. David Mallock on his departure from Scotland_, alludes to them:--

"But he that could, in tender strains, Raise Margaret's plaining shade, And paints distress that chills the veins, While William's crimes are red."

The ballad at once became popular, and was printed in several collections, undergoing many alterations for the worse by the way. Sundry attempts were made to rob Mallet of the credit of his song. Besides the one mentioned above by Percy, Captain Thompson, the editor of Andrew Marvell's Works, claimed it for Marvell, but this claim was even more ridiculous than those he set up against Addison and Watts. Although Mallet doubtless knew the ballads _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_ (book ii. No. 4) and _Sweet William's Ghost_ (No. 6), he is said to have founded his own upon a true story which came under his observation. A daughter of Professor James Gregory of St. Andrews, and afterwards of Edinburgh, was seduced by a son of Sir William Sharp of Strathyrum, who had promised to marry her, but heartlessly deserted her.

The ballad has been extravagantly praised: Ritson observes, "It may be questioned whether any English writer has produced so fine a ballad as _William and Margaret_." Percy describes it as one of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any other language; and Allan Ramsay writes, "I know not where to seek a finer mixture of pathos and terror in the whole range of Gothic romance." Scott, on the other hand, was of opinion that "The ballad, though the best of Mallet's writing, is certainly inferior to the original, which I presume to be the very fine and terrific old Scottish tale, beginning

'There came a ghost to Margaret's door.'"

The extreme popularity of the poem is seen by the various parodies, one of which, _Watty and Madge_, is printed in Ramsay's _Tea_ _Table Miscellany_ (vol. iii.). It commences--

"'Twas at the shining mid-day hour,"

and each succeeding verse is parodied in the same manner. Vincent Browne imitated the original in Latin verse, and a German version was published as _Wilhelm und Gretchen_.

Mallet was a native of Crieff in Perthshire, and is believed to have been born in the year 1702. He was sometime tutor to the Montrose family, through whose influence he was introduced into public life. He changed his name from Malloch to Mallet when he settled in London, and in 1742 he was appointed Under Secretary to the Prince of Wales. He died on the 21st of April, 1765. Mallet is a writer little cared for now, but he can hardly be said to be neglected, for in 1857 Mr. Frederick Dinsdale published an illustrated edition of his Ballads and Songs, chiefly made up of copious notes on _William and Margaret_ and _Edwin and Emma_.]

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'Twas at the silent solemn hour, When night and morning meet; In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet.

Her face was like an April morn, 5 Clad in a wintry cloud: And clay-cold was her lily hand, That held her sable shrowd.

So shall the fairest face appear, When youth and years are flown: 10 Such is the robe that kings must wear, When death has reft their crown.

Her bloom was like the springing flower, That sips the silver dew; The rose was budded in her cheek, 15 Just opening to the view.

But love had, like the canker worm, Consum'd her early prime: The rose grew pale, and left her cheek; She dy'd before her time. 20

"Awake!" she cry'd, "thy true love calls, Come from her midnight grave; Now let thy pity hear the maid, Thy love refus'd to save.

"This is the dark and dreary hour, 25 When injur'd ghosts complain; Now yawning graves give up their dead, To haunt the faithless swain.

"Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, Thy pledge, and broken oath: 30 And give me back my maiden vow, And give me back my troth.

"Why did you promise love to me, And not that promise keep? Why did you swear mine eyes were bright, 35 Yet leave those eyes to weep?

"How could you say my face was fair, And yet that face forsake? How could you win my virgin heart, Yet leave that heart to break? 40

"Why did you say my lip was sweet, And made the scarlet pale? And why did I, young witless maid, Believe the flattering tale?

"That face, alas! no more is fair; 45 These lips no longer red: Dark are my eyes, now clos'd in death, And every charm is fled.

"The hungry worm my sister is; This winding-sheet I wear: 50 And cold and weary lasts our night, Till that last morn appear.

"But hark! the cock has warn'd me hence! A long and last adieu! Come see, false man, how low she lies, 55 Who dy'd for love of you."

The lark sung loud; the morning smil'd, With beams of rosy red: Pale William shook in ev'ry limb, And raving left his bed. 60

He hyed him to the fatal place, Where Margaret's body lay; And stretch'd him on the grass-green turf, That wrapt her breathless clay:

And thrice he call'd on Margaret's name, 65 And thrice he wept full sore: Then laid his cheek to her cold grave, And word spake never more.