The Widow's Tale :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Widow's Tale

and other Poems. By the Author of Ellen Fitzarthur [i.e. by C. A. Bowles]

Southey, Caroline Bowles (1786-1854)

II.

II.

III.

IV.

SCENE V.

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217

SCENE V.

Editha's dressing room.—Evening.
[Editha on the couch.—Edmund laying down a book, from which he had been reading to her.
Edm.
Shall I leave off, my Editha?—You're tired—
The book has wearied your attention, love!

Edi.
No, Edmund! but my mind had wandered from it
To you, and to myself—to many things.—
I heard the words you uttered—not their sense—
Dear Edmund! I'm too happy for attention—
My heart's too full—full of the past and present.

Edm.
And of the future, love! the happier future!
Is there no room for that, my Editha?

218

Edi.
Oh! yes—there has been, and will be again;
But now, I'm almost sick with happiness;
I feel as if I could not bear the weight
Of half another grain.—And you are here!
And have been here since yesterday at noon!
Have slept again under this very roof!
Have sat at meals in your old place again!
Have walked in our own garden—yours and mine—
Have brought me flowers from thence—this very rose!
Your old accustomed tribute.—You are here
And will be here to-morrow, and to-morrow,
And all this happiness is not a dream!

Edm.
A blest reality, beloved creature!
That time will stamp with still increasing bliss
Oh, Editha! how much I have to tell you—
How much to hear, when you are well enough
To stroll once more in our old fav'rite haunts,
Your arm within my arm! till then, dear love,

219

I will not enter them. Is the old tree,
The oak-tree, standing yet, whose hollow trunk
We used to call our house, when we were children?

Edi.
Standing, and well—but the wild honeysuckle
You taught to climb its branches is quite dead;
Yet not for want of care, but we believed
The lightning struck it. Do you remember, Edmund,
That little mountain-ash you planted for me
The day of your departure?

Edm.
Oh, yes! yes!
I set it by the meadow-brook, and bade you,
If the tree grew and prospered, look upon it
As a good omen of the wand'rer's fate.

Edi.
And it has grown and prospered; it is now
A stately tree, casting its chequered shadow
To the opposite margin of the meadow brook;
Hung ev'ry autumn with such beautiful tassels
Of scarlet berries! I grudged them to the birds.

220

Edm.
Not to our robin?—but he must be dead!

Edi.
I found him dead last winter in the greenhouse,
In the hard frost. Look, Edmund! oh, look there!
The moon's at full to-night, and she is rising;
Help me to reach the sofa by the window,
That I may gaze on the full moon once more.

Edm.
“Once more,” my life!—shall we not often thus
Together look upon the lovely moon?

Edi.

I hope so, Edmund. Did I say once more?—
Oh, often! often! I believe—I hope—

I've heard 'tis wrong to be afraid of death.
I know we should not love this world too much;
And yet, I feel that I do love the world—
This beautiful world! with all its fruits and flowers,
Its dews and sunshine. And with those about me,

221

In whom I live—you and my father, Edmund—
Is not this paradise!—I feel, I fear,
I could not bear to die and leave it all!—

Yet surely, surely, in a future state
There may be pleasures perfected from those
That constitute our best enjoyments here—
The innocent affections of the heart—
Edmund!—

Edm.
My dearest! you exhaust yourself—
I must not let you talk so much.—Come, come,
Martha has charged me to take absolute rule,
As in old times, over my little cousin.

Edi.
She makes me keep good hours—I go to bed
At nine o'clock, so if I'm tir'd to-night
I shall but sleep the sounder. What's the hour?

Edm.
The church clock answers you: 'tis striking nine.

222

Edi.
See! the bright moon is just withdrawing there
Behind the steeple. Now—how dark it is!

Edm.
Still light as day, love! tho' the moon is hid.

Edi.
No, very dark—pitch dark. Where are you, Edmund?
Don't let me go—don't leave me—
Edmund!—

[Dies.