 | The magic fountain |  |
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SIR HENRY.
O sweet are Cheviot's heather-bells
When sunny showers have passed away;
And sweet the blooms in Roddam dells,
When gemmed by dew in morning's ray.
When sunny showers have passed away;
And sweet the blooms in Roddam dells,
When gemmed by dew in morning's ray.
But not a flower that ever sprung
By lonely glen or mountain wild,
Could draw one glance, when, sweet and young,
The loveliest maid of Cheviot smiled!
By lonely glen or mountain wild,
Could draw one glance, when, sweet and young,
The loveliest maid of Cheviot smiled!
Fair Emma dreamed a dreary dream—
From Henry's breast, her own true knight,
She thought she saw the life-blood stream,
While laughed her kindred at the sight!
From Henry's breast, her own true knight,
She thought she saw the life-blood stream,
While laughed her kindred at the sight!
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She screaming woke; and glad was she
To find the dreadful vision gone:
She rose, for pure and bonnilee
The moon-beam through her casement shone.
To find the dreadful vision gone:
She rose, for pure and bonnilee
The moon-beam through her casement shone.
She looked into the night—each star
Was twinkling in its station blue;
And woods at hand and hills afar
Rose dim, or melted from the view.
Was twinkling in its station blue;
And woods at hand and hills afar
Rose dim, or melted from the view.
'Twas silence all, and softly fair;
The moorland breeze did freshly blow;
It gently waved her long dark hair,
It fanned her face and neck of snow.
The moorland breeze did freshly blow;
It gently waved her long dark hair,
It fanned her face and neck of snow.
Why does her dark eye brighter glance?
Why deeper blooms her polished cheek?
She sees her Henry's form advance!
She bends to hear her lover speak!
Why deeper blooms her polished cheek?
She sees her Henry's form advance!
She bends to hear her lover speak!
“If still my Emma keeps her vow,
If still her heart is true to me,
Descend, my loveliest! meet me now!
My grey steed waits to fly with thee.”
If still her heart is true to me,
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My grey steed waits to fly with thee.”
“O fix the ladder here,” she said,
“And hie thee to the trysting tree;
And doubt not that thy faithful maid
Will find her moonlight way to thee.”
“And hie thee to the trysting tree;
And doubt not that thy faithful maid
Will find her moonlight way to thee.”
He fixed the ladder to the wall;
He hied him to the trysting tree;
And there he waits impatient all,
And deems each rustling leaf is she.
He hied him to the trysting tree;
And there he waits impatient all,
And deems each rustling leaf is she.
And, trust me, had you seen him there,
His sword beside him careless hung—
You would have sworn her choice was rare,
For he was comely, tall, and young.
His sword beside him careless hung—
You would have sworn her choice was rare,
For he was comely, tall, and young.
But soft! there is a footstep near—
Already fancy clasps the maid:
Ha! sounds of armour strike his ear,
And warriors hurry through the shade!
Already fancy clasps the maid:
Ha! sounds of armour strike his ear,
And warriors hurry through the shade!
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In haste his trusty blade he drew—
He sternly placed him by the tree;
For well her brothers three he knew,
And knew they wished his blood to see.
He sternly placed him by the tree;
For well her brothers three he knew,
And knew they wished his blood to see.
“Come on!” he cried, “The deadly fire
Which flashes o'er your souls—which sprang
From old disgrace, when feudal ire
Engaged our race in battle-clang—
Which flashes o'er your souls—which sprang
From old disgrace, when feudal ire
Engaged our race in battle-clang—
In Henry's blood ye hope to quench;
Nor lightly shall the game be won!
Come on, and try who first shall blench—
For Emma fights Lord Malcolm's son!”
Nor lightly shall the game be won!
Come on, and try who first shall blench—
For Emma fights Lord Malcolm's son!”
Like lightning flashed from midnight cloud,
Sir Henry waved his weapon bright;
When forward sprung the eldest, proud,
And met the youth in deadly fight.
Sir Henry waved his weapon bright;
When forward sprung the eldest, proud,
And met the youth in deadly fight.
Young William loved his sister well,
Had often sought to calm the feud,
And high was now his bosom's swell
To hear her name from knight so good.
Had often sought to calm the feud,
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To hear her name from knight so good.
Between the struggling foes his way
The noble-hearted stripling pressed;
But Henry's sword, with mighty sway
Descending, pierced his generous breast.
The noble-hearted stripling pressed;
But Henry's sword, with mighty sway
Descending, pierced his generous breast.
Henry! hadst thou the impulse seen
That urged him 'twixt thee and thy foe,
A thousand deaths thy choice had been
Rather than lay that stripling low!
That urged him 'twixt thee and thy foe,
A thousand deaths thy choice had been
Rather than lay that stripling low!
Deep blushes with his blood the heath—
Another thrust, and Henry's blade
Hath found a second bloody sheath;
The eldest in his gore is laid.
Another thrust, and Henry's blade
Hath found a second bloody sheath;
The eldest in his gore is laid.
Again Sir Henry stands prepared
In hope to see the third come on—
Why comes he not? Has fortune spared?
Does sight deceive—or is he gone?
In hope to see the third come on—
Why comes he not? Has fortune spared?
Does sight deceive—or is he gone?
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The dastard wretch, while yet they strove,
Had softly stol'n behind the tree,
From whence his blade he fiercely drove—
And Emma's love bleeds piteously!
Had softly stol'n behind the tree,
From whence his blade he fiercely drove—
And Emma's love bleeds piteously!
Yet dream not unavenged he sank—
One blow the coward's soul did free!
Combat hath ceased upon the bank;
But Emma's love bleeds piteously!
One blow the coward's soul did free!
Combat hath ceased upon the bank;
But Emma's love bleeds piteously!
And thou, for whom the strife was tried,
O lovely Emma, where art thou?
In all her beauty comes the bride,
But ah! the bridegroom heeds not—now!
O lovely Emma, where art thou?
In all her beauty comes the bride,
But ah! the bridegroom heeds not—now!
Pale grew her cheek, and from her eye
There shot a wild and tearless glance;
Then, uttering one long maniac cry,
She sunk to earth in sudden trance.
There shot a wild and tearless glance;
Then, uttering one long maniac cry,
She sunk to earth in sudden trance.
She lived—and long in yonder dell,
Long by this mountain wildly roved;
She died at last where Henry fell,
And now she sleeps by him she loved.
Long by this mountain wildly roved;
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And now she sleeps by him she loved.
So have I seen on Cheviot high
—Pale lingerer of the purple train—
A heath-bell sink at length and die,
Chilled by November's sleety rain!
—Pale lingerer of the purple train—
A heath-bell sink at length and die,
Chilled by November's sleety rain!
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