University of Virginia Library

But Linda, with a downcast head,
As soon as Erwin's song was o'er,
Rose up with hasty steps, and fled
To weep unseen without the door.
And when their evening's mirth was o'er,
And, in the darksome night-air, rung
Before the rose-bewreathèd door,
“Good night,” “Good night,” from ev'ry tongue,
Then Mr. Wanhope softly smil'd
On Erwin, with a kindly face,
As he was ling'ring, love-beguil'd,
To see fair Linda leave the place:
And whisper'd in his ear “You ought,
You know, on such a night as this,
To see Miss Linda home. Fear nought.
She cannot take the deed amiss.”
So timid, but with manly grace,
By warmly-blushing Linda's side;
He took his own too blissful place,
That night first sought and undenied.
And e'er they parted, she confess'd,
In words his love could not mistake,
What gave him joy that broke his rest
That happy night of Burncoombe Wake.
But when her hasty father heard
Of what had happen'd, wild with rage,
He shut her up like some poor bird
That pines within a narrow cage,
And from her rosy cheeks he clipp'd
Her locks, and in her wax-white ears
He spoke, with anger, grisly-lipp'd,
Hard words that brought her bitter tears.
But Mr. Wanhope, who could find
The trials of his own true heart,
In Erwin's, with a yearning mind
To make him happy, took his part;
And, having none of kin to share
The growing wealth that he had won,
He made him, by his will, his heir,
To take his name as his own son.
So when he died, all these his lands
Fell into Erwin Akley's hands.