EDWIN AND ELTRUDA.

EDWIN AND ELTRUDA . WHERE the clear DERWENT'S waters glide Along their mossy bed , Close by the river's verdant side , A castle rear'd its head . The ancient pile by time eras'd , And level'd with the ground , Once many a sculptur'd trophy grac'd , And banners wav'd around . There liv'd a Chief , to fame well known , A warlike , virtuous knight , Who many a well-fought field had won By valour and by might . What time in martial pomp he led His chosen gallant train , The foe that erst had conquer'd , fled , Indignant fled the plain . Yet milder virtues he possest , More gentle passions felt ; And in his calm and yielding breast Each soft affection dwelt . Not all the rugged toils of war His bosom e'er could steel ; He felt for every child of care , His heart was apt to feel . And much that heart was doom'd to bear , And many a grief to prove ; To feel the fulness of despair , The woes of hopeless love ; To lose the partner of his breast , Who sooth'd each rising care ; And with mild efforts charm'd to rest The griefs she sought to share . He mark'd the chilling damps of death O'erspread her fading charms ; He saw her yield her quiv'ring breath , And sink in death's cold arms . From solitude he hop'd relief , And this lone mansion sought , To cherish there his sacred grief , And nurse the tender thought . Here , object of his fondest cares , An infant daughter smil'd ; And oft the mourner's falling tears Bedew'd his EMMA's child ! These tears , as o'er the babe he hung , Would tremble in his eye ; While blessings fault'ring on his tongue , Were breath'd but in a sigh . For many a sad revolving year His hopeless griefs endure ; For ah ! a sorrow so severe 'Tis death alone can cure . Yet time can soften the deep wound It has not power to heal ; And in his child he thought he found His much-lov'd EMMA still . In his ELTRUDA's gentle breast His griefs he could repose ; With each endearing virtue blest , She soften'd all his woes . Twas easy in her look to trace An emblem of her mind : There dwelt each mild attractive grace , Each gentle charm combin'd . Soft as the dews of morn arise , And on the pale flower gleam , So soft , so sweet her melting eyes With love and pity beam . As far retir'd the lonely flower Smiles in the desart vale , And blooms its balmy sweets to pour Upon the flying gale ; So liv'd in solitude unseen This lovely , peerless maid ; So sweetly grac'd the vernal scene , And blossom'd in the shade . Yet love could pierce the lone recess , For there he loves to dwell ; He scorns the noisy croud to bless , And seeks the lowly cell . There only his resistless dart In all its power is known ; His empire sways each willing heart ; They live to love alone , EDWIN , of every grace possest , First taught her heart to prove That gentlest passion of the breast , To seel the power of love . Tho' few the pastures he possest , Tho' scanty was his store , Tho' wealth ne'er swell'd his hoarded chest , EDWIN could boast of more ! EDWIN could boast the liberal mind , The gen'rous , ample heart ; And every virtue heav'n inclin'd To bounty , can impart . The maxims of this servile age , The mean , the selfish care , The sordid views that now engage The mercenary pair , Whom riches can unite or part , To them were all unknown ; For then the sympathetic heart Was link'd by love alone . They little knew that wealth had power To make the constant rove ; They little knew the splendid dower Could add a bliss to love . They little knew the human breast Could pant for sordid ore ; Or , of a faithful heart possest , Could ever wish for more . And tho' her peerless beauty warms His heart to love inclin'd ; Not less he felt the lasting charms , The beauties of her mind . Not less his gentle soul approv'd The virtues glowing there ; For surely Virtue to be lov'd Needs only to appear . The sweets of dear domestic bliss Each circling hour beguil'd ; And meek-ey'd hope , and inward peace On the lone mansion smil'd . Oft o'er the daisy-sprinkled mead , They wander'd far away , Some lambkin to the fold to lead , That haply chanc'd to stray . Her heart , where pity lov'd to dwell , With sadness oft was wrung ; For the bruis'd insect as it fell , Her soft tear trembling hung . As roving o'er the flow'ry waste , A sigh would heave her breast The while her gentle hand replac'd The linnet's falling nest . Then would she seek the vernal bow'r , And haste with tender care To nurse some pale declining flow'r , Some op'ning blossom rear . And oft with eager steps she flies To chear the lonely cot , Where the poor widow pour her sighs , And wails her hapless lot . Their weeping mother's trembling knees Her lisping infants clasp ; Their meek imploring look she fees , She feels their tender grasp . Wild throbs her aching bosom swell ! They mark the bursting sigh — ( Nature has form'd the soul to feel ) They weep , unknowing why . — HER hands the lib'ral boon impart , And much her tear avails To sooth the mourner's bursting heart , Where feeble utterance fails . On the pale cheek where hung the tear Of agonizing woe , She bids the gush of joy rise there , The tear of rapture flow . If greater plenty to impart She e'er would heav'n implore , 'Twas only that her ample heart Still panted to do more . Thus soft the gliding moments flew , ( Tho' love would court their stay ) While some new virtue rose to view , And mark'd each fleeting day . Peace , long condemn'd the world to roam , Like the poor wand'ring dove , Here softly-resting found a home , And wish'd no more to rove . The youthful poet's soothing dream Of golden ages past , The Muses' fond ideal theme Was realiz'd at last . Joy springs amid' encircling cares To breasts where virtue glows ; For Virtue , in this vale of tears , A paradise bestows . But vainly here we hope that bliss Unchanging will endure ; Ah , in a world so vain as this , What heart can rest secure ? For now arose the death-fraught day , For civil discord fam'd , When YORK from LANCASTER's proud sway , The Royal sceptre claim'd . The passing moments now were fraught With desolating rage ; And now the bloody deeds were wrought That swell th' historic page . The good old ALBERT vows again To seek the hostile field ; The cause of HENRY to maintain , The spear for him to wield . But oh , a thousand sacred ties That bind the hero's soul , A thousand tender claims arise , And EDWIN's breast controul , And link the youth to HENRY's foes — But ah , it rends his heart The aged ALBERT to oppose ; To bear an adverse part . Tho' 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 a mingled care , Full oft ELTRUDA sigh'd , And mourn'd the rugged brow of war Should those she lov'd divide . At length the fatal morn arose In gloomy vapours drest ; The pensive maiden's sorrow flows , And pale fear heav'd her breast . A thousand pangs the father feels , A thousand tender fears ; While at his feet she trembling kneels , And bathes them with her tears . A falling drop bedew'd his cheek , From the sad scene he flew ; The tender father could not speak — He could not say — adieu ! Then EDWIN , hapless EDWIN came ; He saw her pallid look , And tremblings seize her tender frame , While thus he fault'ring spoke : " This cruel tenderness but wounds " The heart it means to bless : " Those falling tears , those plaintive sounds , " Increase the soft distress ! " Then be to wretched EDWIN kind , " Nor mourn , dear tender maid " — At length , on EDWIN's breast reclin'd , ELTRUDA faintly said : " If fate relentless has decreed , " On yonder hostile plain , " My EDWIN's destin'd heart to bleed , " And swell the heaps of slain ; " Trust me , my love , I'll not complain , " I'll shed no feeble tear ; " Not one weak drop my cheek shall stain , " Or tell what passes here ! " Ah , let thy fate of others claim " A tear , a tender sigh ; " I'll only murmur thy dear name — " Call on my love — and die . " 'Twere vain for feeble words to tell The pangs their bosoms prov'd ; They only can conceive it well Whose hearts have trembling lov'd . The timid Muse forbears to say What laurels EDWIN won ; Nor paints the gallant deeds that day By aged ALBERT done . On softer themes alone she dwells , As trembling thro' the grove , Of friendship's woes she sad'ning tells , Or sings of hapless love . Tho' long the beaming day was fled , The fight they still maintain ; While night a deeper horror shed O'er the ensanguin'd plain . The martial trump invades the ear , And drowns the orphan's cry : No more the widow's shriek they hear , The love-lorn virgin's sigh ! The pangs those dear-bought laurels yield , Alas , what tongue can speak ? Perchance not one that strews the field But leaves some heart to break . To ALBERT's breast the faulshion flew — He felt a mortal wound ; The drops that warm'd his heart , bedew And stain the flinty ground . The Foe who aim'd the deadly dart , Heard his expiring sighs ; Soft pity touch'd his yielding heart , To ALBERT streight he flies — While round the Chief his arms he cast , While oft his bosom sigh'd , And seem'd as if it mourn'd the past — Old ALBERT faintly cry'd , " Tho' nature heaves these feeble groans , " Without complaint I die . " Yet one dear care my heart still owns , " Still feels one tender tie . " For YORK , a youth well known to fame " Uplifts the hostile spear ; " EDWIN's the blooming heroe's name , " To ALBERT's bosom dear ; " Ah , tell him my expiring sigh , " Say my last words besought " To my despairing child to fly , " 'Ere fame the tidings brought : " He spoke ! — but oh , what mournful strain In sadness apt to melt , What moving numbers can explain The pangs that EDWIN felt ! For EDWIN 'twas himself that held The dying warrior prest , ( Whom the dark shades of night conceal'd ) Close to his throbbing breast . " Ah , fly ( he cry'd ) my touch profane ! " Oh how the rest impart ? " 'Twas EDWIN plung'd — rever'd old man — " The dagger in thy heart . " His dying eyes he feebly rais'd , Which seem'd for ever clos'd ; On the pale youth they piteous 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 mourning love bedew . " I'll go the tender maid to seek , " To catch her bursting sigh , " To wipe the tear from her pale cheek , " And at her feet to die . " And as the tender maid to seek The frantic mourner flew , To wipe the tear from her pale cheek , And breathe a last adieu , Appall'd his startling fancy sees His true love's sorrows flow ; And hears in every passing breeze The plaintive sounds of woe . Mean while the weeping maid , whose prayers In vain would heav'n implore , Of ALBERT's fate despairing hears , But yet had heard no more . She saw her much-lov'd EDWIN near — She saw , and piteous sigh'd ; The sight chill'd every falling tear — At length she faintly cry'd , " Eternal woes this heart must prove ; " Its tenderest ties are broke : " Ah say , what ruthless arm , my love , " Could aim the deadly stroke ! " Could not thy hand , my EDWIN , thine , " Have warded off the blow ? " For , ah , he was not only mine , " He was thy father too ! No longer EDWIN could endure The pangs no strains can tell ; From death he fondly hop'd a cure , As senseless , cold , he fell . She flew — she gave her sorrows vent — A thousand tears she pour'd ; Her mournful voice , her moving plaint , The youth to life restor'd . " Why wildly throbs each shiv'ring vein ? " ( She cry'd ) my EDWIN speak — " Or all unable to sustain " These pangs , my heart will break . " " Yes — it will break , ( he frantic cry'd ) " For me 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 mournful maid : She spoke no more , but seem'd from death To hope for instant aid . But lo ! a pensive , silent train With downcast looks appear ; Who ALBERT'S pallid corse sustain , Plac'd on a sable bier . For hapless EDWIN fondly thought It might some comfort yield , If good old ALBERT'S corse were brought From off the blood-stain'd field . He thought 'twould sooth ELTRUDA'S pains , O'er the dear hallow'd urn Which ALBERT'S sacred dust contains , A while her griefs to mourn . But ah , all frantic at the sight , A hurried glance she threw ; Then starting wild with pale affright , That hurried glance withdrew . Trembling she rush'd , and in her arms The dear remains she prest ; But sudden , paleness veil'd her charms So late in beauty drest . 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 death-fraught weapon grasp'd , The steel he firmly prest , When sudden she arose , and clasp'd Him wildly to her breast . " Methought ( she cry'd 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 , tho' 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 yon cold grave . " E'en now , my love , I trembling hear " Him breath a last adieu ! " I see , my love , the falling tear " His furrow'd cheek bedew ! " I feel within his aged arms " His poor ELTRUDA prest : " I hear him speak the fond alarms " That wring a parent's breast . " 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 glimm'ring thro' the grov " Shall shed her faintest light : " We'll gather from the rosy bow'r " The fairest wreaths that bloom ; " We'll cull , my love , each op'ning flow ' " 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 glaring face of day , " Eternal silence keep ; " Thro' the dark wood we'll chearless 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 . " My father's spirit hovers near : " Alas , he comes to chide — " Is there no means , my EDWIN dear , " The fatal deed to hide ? " None , none — for wheresoe'er we go " Lo , streams of blood proceed ! " And should the torrent cease to flow , " Yet still our hearts would bleed . " Our hearts the secret would betray , " The tale of death reveal ; " Angels would come in dread array , " The bloody deed to tell . " Yet , EDWIN , if th' offence be thine " Too soon I can forgive ; " But , oh , the guilt would all be mine , " Could I endure to live . " Farewell , my love ! — for , ah , 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 heaven will joyless prove , " While EDWIN is away . " " It is too much ! " ( he frantic cry'd ) Then to his bosom prest The dying maid , who piteous sigh'd — And sunk to endless rest . He saw her dying eye-lids close , He heard her latest sigh , And yet no tear of anguish flows Fast streaming from his eye . For , ah , the fulness of despair , The pang of high-wrought woe , Admits no silent trembling tear , No lenient drop to flow . He feels within his shivering 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 far for ever flies The blessing held most dear ; To bid the suff'rer's soul aspire A higher bliss to prove , To wake the pure , refin'd desire , The hope that rests above !