Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

Whene'er to the wake or the chase she would go,
The young Theodore loiter'd that way;
Did the sun-beams of summer invitingly glow,
Or across the bleak common the winter winds blow,
Still he watch'd till the closing of day.

Her parents so wealthy, her kindred so proud,
Heard the story of love with dismay;

They rav'd, and they storm'd, by the Virgin they vow'd,

That, before they would see her so wedded, a shroud Should be Madeline's bridal array.

One night, it was winter, all dreary and cold, And the moon-beams shone paly and clear, When she open'd her lattice, in hopes to behold Her Theodore's form, when the turret-bell toll'd, And the blood in her heart froze for fear;

Near the green-mantled moat her stern father she spied,

And a grave he was making with speed; The light, which all silver'd the castle's strong side, Display'd his wild gestures, while madly he cried"Curs'd caitiff! thy bosom shall bleed!"

Distracted, forlorn, from the castle of pride
She escap'd at the next close of day;

Her soft blushing cheek, with dark berries all dy'd,
With a spear on her shoulder, a sword by her side,
And her form in a doublet of grey.

She travers'd the court,-not a vassal was seen;
Through the gate hung with ivy she flew ;
The sky was unclouded, the air was serene,
The moon shot its rays the long vistas between,
And her doublet was spangled with dew.

[ocr errors]

O'er the cold breezy downs to the hamlet she hied Where the cottage of Theodore stood;

For its low roof of rushes she oft had descried, When she drank of the brook that foam'd wild by its side,

While the keen hunters travers'd the wood.

The sky on a sudden grew dark, and the wind,
With a deep sullen murmur rush'd by;
She wander'd about, but no path could she find,
While horrors on horrors encompass'd her mind,
When she found that no shelter was nigh.

And now, on the dry-wither'd fern, she could hear
The hoofs of swift horses rebound;

She stopp'd, and she listen'd, she trembled with fear, When a voice most prophetic and sad met her ear, And she shudder'd and shrunk at the sound.

"'Tis here we will wait," cried the horsemen ; "for see

How the moon with black clouds is o'erspread; No hut yields a shelter, no forest a treeThis heath shall young Theodore's bridal-couch be, And the cold earth shall pillow his head.

Hark! some one approaches-now stand we aside, We shall know him-for see the moon's clear; In a doublet of grey he now waits for his bride, But, ere dawn-light, the carle shall repent of his pride,

And his pale mangled body rest here."

Again, the moon shrouded in clouds, o'er the plain The horsemen were scatter'd far wide;

The night became stormy, the fast-falling rain Beat hard on her bosom, which dar'd not complain, And the torrent roll'd swift by her side.

Now clashing of swords overwhelm'd her with dread, While her ear met the deep groan of death; "Yield, yield thee, bold peasant," the murderer

said,

"This turf with thy heart's dearest blood shall be red, And thy bones whiten over the heath."

Now shrieking, despairing, she starts from the ground,

And her spear, with new strength she let go : She aim'd it at random, she felt it rebound From the sure hand of fate which inflicted the wound,

As it drank the life-blood of her foe.

The morning advanc'd; o'er the pale chilling skies Soon the warm rosy tints circled wide;

But, oh God! with what anguish, what terror she flies,

When her father, all cover'd with wounds she descries,

With her lover's pale corpse by his side!

Half frantic she fell on her parent's cold breast,
And she bath'd her white bosom with gore;
Then, in anguish, the form of her Theodore prest
"I will yet be thy bride, in the grave we will rest,"
She exclaim'd; and she suffer'd no more.

Now o'er the wild heath, when the winter winds blow,

And the moon-silver'd fern branches wave, Pale Theodore's spectre is seen gliding slow, As he calls on the damsel in accents of woe, Till the bell warns him back to his grave.

And while the deep sound echoes over the wood, Now the villagers shrink with dismay;

For, as legends declare, where the castle once stood, 'Mid the ruins, by moon-light, all cover'd with blood, Shrieks the maid-in her doublet of grey.

TO A TUFT OF EARLY VIOLETS.

WILLIAM GIFFORD, ESQ.

SWEET flow'rs! that from your humble beds
Thus prematurely dare to rise,
And trust your unprotected heads
To cold Aquarius' wat’ry skies;

Retire, retire! these tepid airs

Are not the genial brood of May; That Sun with light malignant glares, And flatters only to betray.

Stern Winter's reign is not yet past-
Lo! while your buds prepare to blow,
On icy pinions comes the blast,

And nips your root, and lays you low.

Alas, for such ungentle doom!
But I will shield you, and supply
A kindlier soil on which to bloom,
A nobler bed on which to die.

Come then, ere yet the morning ray
Has drunk the dew that gems your crest,
And drawn your balmiest sweets away;
O come, and grace my Anna's breast.

Ye droop, fond flowers! but, did ye know
What worth, what goodness there reside,

Your cups with liveliest tints would glow,
And spread their leaves with conscious pride;

For there has lib'ral Nature join'd
Her riches to the stores of art,
And added to the vig'rous mind,
The soft, the sympathizing heart.

Come then, ere yet the morning ray
Has drunk the dew that gems your crest,
And drawn your balmiest sweets away;
O come, and grace my Anna's breast.

O! I should think-that fragrant bed
Might I but hope with you to share-
Years of anxiety repaid

By one short hour of transport there.

More blest your lot, ye there shall live
Your little day; and when ye die,
Sweet flowers! the grateful Muse shall give
A verse the sorrowing maid, a sigh.

While I, alas! no distant date,

Mix with the dust from whence I came, Without a friend to weep my fate, Without a stone to tell my name.

THE TEAR.

LORD BYRON.

WHEN Friendship or Love

Our sympathies move;

When truth in a glance should appear,

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »