Poems (Holford)/Lady Emmeline

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4576325Poems — Lady EmmelineMargaret Holford (1778-1852)
LADY EMMELINE.




Now howls the dark storm, the torrent falls fast,
And the moon glimmers wat'ry and pale,
And the night-wand'ring traveller shudders aghast,
For the fiend of the tempest bestrides the rough blast,
And shrieks in the eddying gale!

"And who is the damsel all mantled in white?
And why does she wander alone?
And why does she stray mid the horrors of night,
Since her cheek is all wan with despair and affright,
And wherefore that sorrowing groan?"

"Oh stay me not stranger, the merciless sky
On me darts its fury in vain:
'Tis despair's lurid meteor that gleams from my eye,
'Tis the demon of anguish that urges the sigh,
And perplexes my wandering brain!

"Then stay me not stranger! the path I explore
Is dreary, and dark, and unknown!
See the corpse-candles flitting my footsteps before!
Ah! soon shall the toil of my journey be o'er,
But I must pursue it alone."

"Now turn thee rash maiden! now tarry, I pray!
All sternly the stranger exclaimed
Oh where art thou wending thy desolate way?
From thy sire's shelt'ring turrets what tempts thee to stray,
Once for prudence and piety famed?"

"Oh! stay me not stranger," and wild glared her eye,
"Or morning will crimson the east!
The vow of my grief is recorded on high,
And ere night's dusky shadows have quitted the sky,
Must the billow roll over my breast!

"Ye towers of my Father! no more shall the song
Resound thro' yon desolate hall,
Nor beauty nor chivalry lead the gay throng,
But the bell of the castle with deep muffled tongue,
Shall toll Lady Emmeline's fall!

"And where the bright banner once wav'd to the wind
Shall the dark flag of funeral float,
And the scenes, once to mirth's frolic revels resign'd,
Where the soft strains of minstrelsy sooth'd the light mind,
Shall but echo the hoarse raven's note!

"Oh! once not the fluttering zephyr of May
Was lighter than Emmeline's heart,
But sad was the hour, and ill-omen'd the day,
When destiny mark'd me for sorrow a prey,
And levell'd the love-poison'd dart.

"Ye powers of delusion! how oft ye restore
The scenes which forever are fled,
Ere my Edwin the red-cross of chivalry bore,
And wav'd it aloft o'er the blood-crimson'd shore,
Doom'd to pillow his warrior head!

"Sir Edwin I come! and the wavering gleam
Of the corpse-fires my footsteps shall light,
To where the cliff nodding above the dark stream,
I may quench in death's bosom, life's feverous beam;
And repose 'mid the shadows of night!"

Then swift to the cliff's craggy summit she hied,
And gazed on the torrent below,
"Now chide not, Sir Edwin, thy lingering bride,
Soon sinking to slumber beneath the cold-tide,
Shall I cancel despair's sullen vow!"

Now loudly the thunder rolled over her head,
And wild flashed the blue lightning's glare,
The earth all convulsed trembl'd under her tread,
And a deep murmur'd sound, like the voice of the dead,
Echo'd sternly, "Rash maiden beware!"

The heart of the lady beat quick at the tone,
As it solemnly dwelt on her ear,—
She gazed on the pilgrim, no longer unknown,
"Oh God! 'tis my Edwin!" she utter'd a groan—
"'Tis the voice of my Edwin I hear!"

All hollow and motionless glare on her view
Those eyes which once sparkl'd so bright,
On that once-blooming cheek, sits the grave's livid hue,
And the cold reptile crawls in that bosom so true,
Once the mansion of love and delight!

"Far, far from the tomb where his fathers are laid,
Do the bones of Sir Edwin decay!
But the voice of thy murmuring wak'd his wan shade,
And rais'd his dim spectre thy crime to upbraid,
And snatch thee from misery away!

"Oh! think on the doom, which by justice decreed,
The self-franchised spirit awaits;
Not ages of torture shall cancel the deed,
The worm of remorse on thy bosom shall feed,
Whose greediness never abates!

"Now farewel my Emmeline!" sadly he said,
And a sigh heav'd his shadowy breast—
"To the far distant land where my relics are laid,
See the grey morning summons my lingering shade,
But we'll meet in the realms of the blest!"

The form of Sir Edwin now faded in air,
And Emmeline dropt on her knee—
"Forgive me," she murmured, "my guilty despair,
Oh! Heaven! in mercy receive my-sad prayer,
And soon set thy penitent free!"

Now homeward she wander'd, and silent and slow,
Towards the towers of her father she pass'd;
All wan and dejected, she mus'd on her vow,
Unheeded the torrent beat cold on her brow,
And she felt not the pitiless blast!

Hark! the wild raving storm how it rends the dark sky,
And threatens the wanderer's head,
And mark the red bolt, how it darts from on high—
See Death's chilling vapours have quench'd her dim eye,
Lady Emmeline's spirit is fled!

Ev'n yet, when the shadows of twilight prevail,
Will the grey-headed villager tell,
How low-moaning spectres, all ghastly and pale,
On the cold breeze of evening heavily sail
Tow'rds the spot where fair Emmeline fell!