The Harp of Erin Containing the Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Dermody. In Two Volumes |
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EDMUND AND ELWINA.
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 | The Harp of Erin |  |
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EDMUND AND ELWINA.
A TALE.
INSCRIBED TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE COUNTESS OF MOIRA.
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Fierce war, and faithful love,
And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
Gray's Bard.
And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
Gray's Bard.
“Ah! dry, my love, that tender
tear,
That bursting sigh restrain,
For Edmund loads the sable bier,
And tears and sighs are vain.
That bursting sigh restrain,
For Edmund loads the sable bier,
And tears and sighs are vain.
“In me a kinder heart behold,
In me a purer love;
I strove to gain thy hand of old,
But ah! in vain I strove.
In me a purer love;
I strove to gain thy hand of old,
But ah! in vain I strove.
“So languid grew thy melting eye,
So heav'd thy panting breast,
That I could ne'er approach thee nigh,
But sigh among the rest.
So heav'd thy panting breast,
That I could ne'er approach thee nigh,
But sigh among the rest.
“Then turn again that eye so blue,
Then let thy bosom beat,
For with a heart so pure, so true,
I kneel before thy feet.
Then let thy bosom beat,
For with a heart so pure, so true,
I kneel before thy feet.
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“One glance of genial love impart,
One smile extend to me,
And cure again that aching heart,
That always bled for thee.
One smile extend to me,
And cure again that aching heart,
That always bled for thee.
“Ev'n now I feel thy heav'nly charms,
My heart can feel them now;
And, sunk within thy snowy arms,
I ratify my vow.”
My heart can feel them now;
And, sunk within thy snowy arms,
I ratify my vow.”
“Hold, impious wretch!” a peasant cry'd,
In minstrel's garb array'd,
“Nor taint the poet's loveliest pride,
A bashful, blooming maid!”
In minstrel's garb array'd,
“Nor taint the poet's loveliest pride,
A bashful, blooming maid!”
Struck by the sound, the chieftain turn'd,
And look'd with rage around,
And smote, while all his visage burn'd,
The minstrel to the ground.
And look'd with rage around,
And smote, while all his visage burn'd,
The minstrel to the ground.
“What peasant thus presumes to bar
My prosp'rous way to joy:
What hireling tempts unworthy war,
Or dares my hopes destroy?
My prosp'rous way to joy:
What hireling tempts unworthy war,
Or dares my hopes destroy?
“Rash miscreant, tell thy lineage all,
Nor tell it with a lie.”
Thus answer'd, rising from his fall,
The youth, with modest eye:
Nor tell it with a lie.”
Thus answer'd, rising from his fall,
The youth, with modest eye:
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“By Tweed's fair banks my father liv'd,
Two blooming sons had he,
And yet the hoary man surviv'd
To bless his progeny.
Two blooming sons had he,
And yet the hoary man surviv'd
To bless his progeny.
“But ah! the eldest youth was blind
To every social tie,
And by his deeds of hate unkind,
Caus'd many a bitter sigh.
To every social tie,
And by his deeds of hate unkind,
Caus'd many a bitter sigh.
“I was the youngest hope; alas!
That I have liv'd so long;
To see good Albert's glories pass,
And swell some doleful song.”
That I have liv'd so long;
To see good Albert's glories pass,
And swell some doleful song.”
The chieftain's cheek here chang'd to pale,
And frenzy turn'd his look,
And, starting at the wond'rous tale,
Thus quick the minstrel spoke.
And frenzy turn'd his look,
And, starting at the wond'rous tale,
Thus quick the minstrel spoke.
“A lovely maid possess'd my soul,
Ah! would that soul was gone,
Beneath a brother's stern control
It heav'd full many a groan.
Ah! would that soul was gone,
Beneath a brother's stern control
It heav'd full many a groan.
“He sent me to a foreign land,
He dealt my dole of woe,
He robb'd my true-love's plighted hand,
And still my tears must flow.
He dealt my dole of woe,
He robb'd my true-love's plighted hand,
And still my tears must flow.
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“Yet, yet, though nearest to my blood,
A villain's name I hate,
Still I remember yonder wood,
Where he has fix'd my fate.”
A villain's name I hate,
Still I remember yonder wood,
Where he has fix'd my fate.”
“Enough!” the frighted chief reply'd,
“Thou raven to my doom!
Oh! here's my sword, with slaughter dy'd,
To bid thee welcome home.
“Thou raven to my doom!
Oh! here's my sword, with slaughter dy'd,
To bid thee welcome home.
“Inhuman murd'rer! who am I?”
He cast his garb aside,
And drew from off his martial thigh
The sword with slaughter dy'd.
He cast his garb aside,
And drew from off his martial thigh
The sword with slaughter dy'd.
“Thus take thy due, yet hold my hand,
Nor seek a brother's blood.”
Awoke by Pity's mild command,
The mild'ned minstrel stood.
Nor seek a brother's blood.”
Awoke by Pity's mild command,
The mild'ned minstrel stood.
He clasp'd the fair one's trembling arm,
And show'd her Edmund's face:
“Ah! whence,” cried she, “this mystic charm!
Ah! whence this lov'd embrace!
And show'd her Edmund's face:
“Ah! whence,” cried she, “this mystic charm!
Ah! whence this lov'd embrace!
“Art thou my Edmund? tell me true;
Art thou so kindly giv'n,
To make thy murd'rous rival rue,
To cleanse my soul for Heav'n?”
Art thou so kindly giv'n,
To make thy murd'rous rival rue,
To cleanse my soul for Heav'n?”
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Depress'd, the elder chieftain sigh'd,
And curs'd o'erruling hate,
Then kiss'd with cordial lip the bride,
Then bless'd the turns of fate.
And curs'd o'erruling hate,
Then kiss'd with cordial lip the bride,
Then bless'd the turns of fate.
| The Harp of Erin | |