« EelmineJätka »
Till all the. Dæmon makes his full descent
Behold Sir Balaam now a man of spirit,
A nymph of Quality admires our Knight,
EDWARD AND EMMA:
FAR in the windings of a valeg.:
Fast by a sheltering wood,
A bumble cottage stood.
There beauteous EMMA flourish'd fair
Beneath a mother's eye,
To see her blest and die..
The softest blush that nature spreads,.
Gave colour to her cheek ;
When May's sweet mornings break,
Nor let the pride of great ones scorn
The charmers of the plain ; That sun which bids their diamond blaze,..
To deck our lily deigns.
Long had she fir'd each youth with Love,
Each maiden with despair;
Yet knew not she was fair ;
Till Edwin came, the pride of gwains,
A soul that knew no art,
Shone forth the feeling heart.
A mutual flame was quickly caught,
His sister, who like envy form'd;
Like her in mischief joy'd To work them harm, with wicked skill
Each darker art employd.
The father too, a sordid man,
Who love nor pity knew, Was all unfeeling as the rock
From whence his riches grew..
Long had he seen their mutual flame,
And seen it long unmoved ; Then with a father's frown at last,
He sternly disapprov'd.
In EDWIN's gentle heart a war
Of different passions strove ;
Yet could not cease to love.
Deny'd her sight, he oft behind
The spreading hawthorn crept, To snatch a glance, to mark the spot
Where EMMA walk'd and wept.
Oft too in Stanemore's wintry waste,
Beneath the moonlight shade, In sighs to pour his soften'd soul,
The midnigbt mourner stray'd,
His cheeks, where love with beauty glow'd,
A deadly pale o'ercast ;
Before the northern blast.
The parents now, with late remorse,
Hung o'er his dying bed, And weary'd Heaven with fruitless pray'rs
And fruitless sorrows shed.
She came, his cold hand softly touch'd,.
And bath'd with many a tear ; First fälling o'er the primrose pale
So morning dews appear.
But oh! his sister's jealous care
(A cruel sister she !)
My EDWIN, live for me.
The church-yard path along,
cold, the dark owl scream'd Her lover's fun'ral song.
Amid the falling gloom of night,
groan in ev'ry sound, Hone appall'd thus had she pass'd
The visionary vale,
When lo! the death-bell smote her ear,
Sad sounding in the gale.
Just then she reach'd with trembling steps;
Her aged mother's door:
That angel face no more!
I feel, I feel this breaking heart
Beat high against my side :
She shiver'd, sigh'd, and died..
CELADON AND AMELIA.
TIS listening fear and dumb amazement all,
Guilt hears appallid, with deeply troubled thought : And yet not always on the guilty head