EDWIN AND ELTRADA, A LEGENDARY TALE. Helen Maria Williams Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Williams, Helen Maria, 1759-1827. Poems on various subjects: with introductory remarks on the present state of science and literature in France. London G. and W. B. Whittaker 1823 pp. [117]-139.

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EDWIN AND ELTRADA , A LEGENDARY TALE . WHERE the pure Derwent's waters glide Along their mossy bed , Close by the river's verdant side , A castle rear'd its head . The antient pile by time is raz'd , Where gothic trophies frown'd , Where once the gilded armour blaz'd , And banners wav'd around . There liv'd a chief well known to fame , A bold adven'trous knight , Renown'd for victory , his name In glory's annals bright . Yet milder virtues he possest , And gentler passions felt , For in his calm and yielding breast The soft affections dwelt . No rugged toils the heart could steel , By nature form'd to prove Whate'er the tender mind can feel In friendship or in love . He lost the partner of his breast , Who sooth'd each rising care , And ever charm'd the pains to rest She ever lov'd to share . From solitude he hop'd relief And this lone mansion sought , To cherish there his faithful grief , To nurse the tender thought . There , to his bosom fondly dear , A blooming daughter smil'd , And oft' the mourner's falling tear Bedew'd his EMMA'S child . As drest in charms the lonely flower Smiles in the distant vale , With beauty gilds the morning hour , And scents the evening gale ; So liv'd in solitude , unseen , This lovely , peerless maid ; So grac'd the wild sequester'd scene , And blossom'd in the shade . Yet love could pierce the lone recess , For there he likes to dwell , To leave the noisy crowd , and bless With happiness the cell . To wing his sure resistless dart Where all its power is known , And rule the undivided heart Despotic and alone . Young EDWIN charm'd her gentle breast , Though scanty all his store , No hoarded treasure he possest , Yet he could boast of more : For he could boast the lib'ral heart , And honour , sense , and truth , Unwarp'd by vanity or art , Adorn'd the gen'rous youth . The maxims of a servile age , The mean , the selfish care , The sordid views that now engage The mercenary fair , Whom riches can unite or part , To them were all unknown , For then each sympathetic breast Was join'd by love alone . They little knew that wealth had power To make the constant rove ; They little knew the weighty dower Could add one bliss to love . ELTRADA o'er the distant mead Would haste at closing day , And to the bleating mother lead The lamb that chanc'd to stray . For the bruis'd insect on the waste A sigh would heave her breast ; And oft her careful hand replac'd The linnet's fallen nest . To her sensations calm as these Could sweet delight impart , Those simple pleasures most can please The uncorrupted heart . And oft with eager step she flies To cheer the roofless cot , Where the lone widow breathes her sighs , And wails her desp'rate lot . Their weeping mother's trembling knees Her lisping infants clasp , Their meek imploring look she sees , She feels their tender grasp . On her pale cheek , where hung the tear Of agonizing woe , ELTRADA bids a smile appear , A tear of rapture flow . Thus on soft wing the moments flew , ( Tho' love would court their stay , ) While some new virtue rose to view , And mark'd each fleeting day . The youthful poet's soothing dream Of golden ages past , The muse's fond ideal theme Seem'd realiz'd at last . But here , how weak to hope that bliss Unchanging will endure ; Ah , in a world so vain as this , What heart can rest secure ! For now arose the fatal day For civil discord fam'd , When YORK from LANCASTER'S proud sway The regal sceptre claim'd . Each moment now the horrors brought Of desolating rage , The fam'd achievements now were wrought That swell th' historic page . The good old ALBERT pants again To dare the hostile field , The cause of HENRY to maintain , For him the lance to wield . But O , a thousand gen'rous ties That bind the hero's soul , A thousand sacred claims arise , And EDWIN'S breast controul . Though passion pleads in HENRY'S cause , And EDWIN'S heart would sway , Yet honour's stern , imperious laws , The brave will still obey . Oppress'd with many an anxious care , Full oft ELTRADA sigh'd , Complaining that relentless war Should those she lov'd divide . At length the parting morn arose , For her in sadness drest , While boding thoughts of future woes With terror heav'd her breast . A thousand pangs her father feels , A thousand tender fears , While clinging at his feet she kneels , And bathes them with her tears . One pitying tear bedew'd his cheek — From his lov'd child he flew , O'erwhelmed , the father could not speak , He could not say — " adieu ! " — Arm'd for the field her lover came , He saw her pallid look , And trembling seize her drooping frame , While , falt'ring , thus he spoke : " This cruel tenderness but wounds The heart it means to bless , Those falling tears , those mournful sounds Increase the vain distress ! " — " If fate , " she answer'd , " has decreed That on the hostile plain My EDWIN'S faithful heart must bleed , And swell the heep of slain : " Trust me , I never will complain , I'll shed no fruitless tear , Not one weak drop my cheek shall stain , Or tell what passes here ! " O , let thy fate of others claim A tear , a mournful sigh ; I'll only murmur thy dear name , I'll call on thee — and die ! " — But ah , how vain for words to tell The pang their bosoms prov'd , They only will conceive it well , They only , who have lov'd . The timid muse forbears to say What laurels EDWIN gain'd ; How ALBERT , long renown'd , that day His ancient fame maintain'd . The bard , who feels congenial fire , May sing of martial strife , And with heroic sounds inspire The gen'rous scorn of life . But ill the theme would suit her reed , Who , wand'ring through the grove , Forgets the conqu'ring hero's meed , And gives a tear to love ! Though long the closing day was fled , The fight they still maintain , While night a deeper horror shed Along the darken'd plain . To ALBERT'S breast an arrow flew , He felt a mortal wound — The drops that warm'd his heart bedew The cold and flinty ground . The foe who aim'd the fatal dart Now heard his dying sighs ; Compassion touch'd his yielding heart , To ALBERT'S aid he flies . While round the chief his arms he cast , While oft he deeply sigh'd , And seem'd as if he mourn'd the past , Old ALBERT faintly cried : " Though nature heaves these parting groans , Without complaint I die ; Yet one dear care my heart still owns , Still feels one tender tie . " For YORK , a warrior known to fame , Uplifts the hostile spear , EDWIN the blooming hero's name , To ALBERT'S bosom dear . " O tell him my expiring sigh , Say my last words implor'd To my despairing child to fly , To her he once ador'd ! " He spoke ! but O , what mournful strain , Whose force the soul can melt , What moving numbers shall explain The pang that EDWIN felt ? The pang that EDWIN now reveal'd — For he the warrior prest ( Whom the dark shades of night conceal'd ) Close to his throbbing breast . " Fly , fly , " he cried , " my touch profane — O , how the rest impart ! Rever'd old man ! could EDWIN stain With ALBERT'S blood the dart ? " His languid eyes lie weakly rais'd , Which seem'd for ever clos'd , On the pale youth with pity gaz'd , And then in death repos'd . " I'll go , " the hapless EDWIN said , " And breathe a last adieu ! And with the drops despair will shed , My mournful love bedew . " I'll go to her for ever dear , To catch her trembling sigh , To wipe from her pale cheek the tear , And at her feet to die ! " And as to her for ever dear The frantic mourner flew , To wipe from her pale cheek the tear , And breathe a last adieu ; Appall'd his troubled fancy sees That tear of anguish flow , And hears in every passing breeze The plaintive sound of woe . Meanwhile the anxious maid , whose tears In vain would heav'n implore , Of ALBERT'S fate despairing hears , But yet had heard no more . " What woes , " she cried , " this breast must prove , Its dearest ties are broke ; — O , say what ruthless arm , my love , Could aim the fatal stroke ? " Could not thy hand , my EDWIN , thine Have warded off the blow ? For O , he was not only mine , He was thy father too ! — " Why does thy bosom throb with pain ? — O speak , my EDWIN , speak ! Or sure , unable to sustain This grief , my heart will break . " " Yes , it will break , " — he falt'ring cried , " For we will life resign — Then trembling know , thy father died — And know , the guilt was mine ! " It is enough ! " with short quick breath , Exclaim'd the fainting maid ; She spoke no more , but seem'd from death To look for instant aid . In plaintive accents EDWIN cries , " And have I murder'd thee ? To other worlds thy spirit flies , And mine this stroke shall free ! " — His hand the lifted weapon grasp'd , The steel he firmly prest , When wildly she arose , and clasp'd Her lover to her breast . " Methought , " she cried , with panting breath , " My EDWIN talk'd of peace ; I knew 'twas only found in death , And fear'd that sad release . " I clasp him still ! 'twas but a dream — Help yon wide wound to close , From which a father's spirits stream , A father's life-blood flows . " But see ! — from thee he shrinks , nor would Be blasted by thy touch ! — Ah , though my EDWIN spilt thy blood , Yet once he lov'd thee much . " My father , yet in pity stay ! — I see his white beard wave — A spirit beckons him away , And points to yonder grave . " Alas , my love , I trembling hear A father's last adieu ; I see , I see the falling tear His wrinkled cheek bedew . " He's gone , and here his ashes sleep — I do not heave a sigh , His child a father does not weep — For ah , my brain is dry ! " But come , together let us rove , At the pale hour of night , When the moon wand'ring through the grove , Shall pour her faintest light . " We'll gather from the rosy bower The fairest wreaths that bloom , We'll cull , my love , each op'ning flower To deck his hallow'd tomb ; " We'll thither from the distant dale A weeping willow bear ; And plant a lily of the vale , A drooping lily , there . " We'll shun the face of glaring day , Eternal silence keep ; Through the dark wood together stray , And only live to weep . " But hark , 'tis come — the fatal time , When , EDWIN , we must part : Some angel tells me 'tis a crime To hold thee to my heart . " Yet , EDWIN , if th' offence be thine , Too soon I can forgive ; But O , the guilt would all be mine , Could I endure to live . " Farewell , my love , for O , I faint , Of pale despair I die ; And see ! that hoary , murder'd saint Descends from yon blue sky . " Poor weak old man ! he comes , my love , To lead to heav'n the way ; He knows not heav'n will joyless prove , If EDWIN here must stay ! " " O , who can bear this pang ? " he cried , Then to his bosom prest The dying maid , who piteous sigh'd , And sunk to endless rest . He saw her eyes for ever close , He heard her latest sigh , And yet no tear of anguish flows From his distracted eye . He feels within his shiv'ring veins A mortal chillness rise ! Her pallid corse he feebly strains , And on her bosom dies . No longer may their hapless lot The mournful muse engage , She wipes away the tears that blot The melancholy page . For heav'n in love dissolves the ties That chain the spirit here , And distant , and for ever flies The blessing held most dear ; To bid the suff'ring soul aspire A higher bliss to prove , To wake the pure , refin'd desire , The hope that rests above !