University of Virginia Library

When Romili fell, and in thy current slept,
His mother mute with woe, all Craven wept;
Tears from the willows dropt into the flood,
And weeping nymphs near thy dark palace stood.
'Twas thus when lov'd, when fair Eliza fell,
The valley echoed with the alarming bell,
The vale of Bolton all suffus'd with tears,
In sable robe and mourning weeds appears;
In solemn strains each feather'd warbler sings,

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The soaring skylark pensive drops his wings;
The varied trees, the shrubs of Wharfdale weep;
The high cascades with sorrow murmur deep,
Each pensive muse mourns o'er Eliza's tomb,
And Strid's dark shades are wrapt in deeper gloom:
The ravens croak, and on the guilty stream
Each shadowing light now sheds a lurid gleam.
The trembling peasant thinks he sees her shade,
Expecting every step to meet the maid;
But, vain his fears; her soul is far away,
And her fair form now rests in kindred clay.
 

The boy of Egremont, son of Cecelia de Romille, sole heir and last of the family.