 | Poems on several occasions |  |
HENRY AND ROSAMOND.
I sing of the ever-great HenryI sing of the ever-great Henry, and his peerless love Rosamond; the fairest among the children of men.
Richard, the unnatural, disturbed the repose of his father: those infernal furies, Jealousy and Revenge assisted: the clashing of arms breathed slaughter and death.
Brave Henry, untaught to yield, stood like the immoveable mountains.
Richard beheld his god-like firmness: not destitute of his sire's virtues, he desisted.
Not so the implacable Eleanor: deprived of the monarch; she meditates: the unhappy Rosamond she destin'd to destruction.
Henry the hero returned in triumph: he approached the bower, the retreat of his fair, with unspeakable joy!
Rosamond; the delightful Rosamond beheld him: the languishing die of her cheeks (for his absence) added fresh lustre to her charms, while her eyes, more sparkling than the diamond, pronounced the monarch happy.
The winged choristers of the groves, sweetly warbled their loves: the sight-bounding hills reechoed with the sound.
Envy, with Hatred, beheld their bliss; they joined with Jealousy and Revenge: let loose to
Henry, undaunted as the fearless lion, went again to the field of carnage, attended by Desolation: but with grief now left the fated Rosamond; her boding lamentations sat heavy on his soul.
He is gone, and now the furious Eleanor seeks her rival: she seeks, she finds; she is struck with her unparallel'd beauty!
Rosamond, discomposed by her late frightful dreams, trembling beheld the injur'd lady; and, with uplifted hands, call'd on heaven to witness her innocence.
In vain she pleaded how artfully she was deluded: in vain she pleaded her youth: in vain she
Her tongue was lost by the force of her wrath: but her eyes, like the killing basilisk's, portended the unhappy fair one's immediate dissolution!
Expectant of death, yet hoping for life, Rosamond remained in the dreary station of doubtful suspence, till Eleanor's speech returned, laden with keenest reproaches; and, smiling with ruin, she placed the sharp-pointed dagger, and the heart-killing draught, before the distressed fair.
Oh cruel lenity! she gave her her choice.
Rosamond repents, she takes the deadly draught, she dies: then were Jealousy and Revenge triumphant.
The yet victorious Henry returned, wrapt up in delight at the thoughts of meeting his beloved!
On the wings of desire he flew, and counts the tedious minutes as he flies: the dismal hoarse-croaking raven, accompany'd with the hideous shrieks of the night-owl received him.
He came to the bower: Joy and Pleasure were gone; Melancholy and Grief had usurped their stations.
The gloomy aspect around, exhibited fresh proofs of the loss, of his once-charming Rosamond.
How short the joyous moments of the monarch! overwhelmed with grief he calls: grown frantick with sorrow he raves; he useless raves for Rosamond: fair Rosamond is no more.
To the winds he directs his moan: Ye pure refreshing winds, that so oft have reliev'd me with your cooling zephyrs, convey my lamentations to the airy spirit of my departed joy; the lovely, fairest, but most unhappy Rosamond!
Most unhappy Rosamond? No: most unhappy Henry! With her no sorrows can exist; for she was pure, altho' by me betray'd.
Oh Rosamond! when I reflect that thy angelick form is fled; when I behold the now-neglected bower, the seat of my all-flown bliss, and call to mind the happy, happy hours spent therein? But, O ye winds! tell her I am wretched.
And thou, all-swallowing Time! shalt this record in latest annals: though, to her dear remains, no lofty piles I raise; yet, long as thou shalt roll, shall yon clear chrystal spring, from this sad day, be call'd by that dear name, Fair Rosamond.
| Poems on several occasions | |