| |
| NO eye beheld when William plunged | |
| Young Edmund in the stream, | |
| No human ear but William’s heard | |
| Young Edmund’s drowning scream. | |
| |
| Submissive, all the vassals own’d | 5 |
| The murderer for their lord, | |
| And he, as rightful heir, possess’d | |
| The house of Erlingford. | |
| |
| The ancient house of Erlingford | |
| Stood in a fair domain, | 10 |
| And Severn’s ample waters near | |
| Roll’d through the fertile plain; | |
| |
| And often the way-faring man | |
| Would love to linger there, | |
| Forgetful of his onward road, | 15 |
| To gaze on scenes so fair. | |
| |
| But never could Lord William dare | |
| To gaze on Severn’s stream; | |
| In every wind that swept its waves | |
| He heard young Edmund scream! | 20 |
| |
| In vain, at midnight’s silent hour | |
| Sleep closed the murderer’s eyes, | |
| In every dream the murderer saw | |
| Young Edmund’s form arise: | |
| |
| In vain by restless conscience driven | 25 |
| Lord William left his home, | |
| Far from the scenes that saw his guilt, | |
| In pilgrimage to roam. | |
| |
| To other climes the pilgrim fled, | |
| But could not fly despair; | 30 |
| He sought his home again, but peace | |
| Was still a stranger there. | |
| |
| Slow were the passing hours, yet swift | |
| The months appeared to roll; | |
| And now the day return’d that shook | 35 |
| With terror William’s soul;— | |
| |
| A day that William never felt | |
| Return without dismay, | |
| For well had conscience calendar’d | |
| Young Edmund’s dying day. | 40 |
| |
| A fearful day was that! the rains | |
| Fell fast with tempest roar, | |
| And the swoln tide of Severn spread | |
| Far on the level shore. | |
| |
| In vain Lord William sought the feast, | 45 |
| In vain he quaff’d the bowl, | |
| And strove with noisy mirth to drown | |
| The anguish of his soul;— | |
| |
| The tempest, as its sudden swell | |
| In gusty howlings came, | 50 |
| With cold and death-like feelings seem’d | |
| To thrill his shuddering frame. | |
| |
| Reluctant now, as night came on, | |
| His lonely couch he prest; | |
| And, wearied out, he sunk to sleep,— | 55 |
| To sleep—but not to rest. | |
| |
| Beside that couch his brother’s form, | |
| Lord Edmund, seem’d to stand, | |
| Such, and so pale, as when in death | |
| He grasp’d his brother’s hand; | 60 |
| |
| Such, and so pale his face, as when | |
| With faint and faltering tongue, | |
| To William’s care, a dying charge, | |
| He left his orphan son. | |
| |
| ‘I bade thee with a father’s love | 65 |
| My orphan Edmund guard;— | |
| Well, William, hast thou kept thy charge! | |
| Now take thy due reward.’ | |
| |
| He started up, each limb convulsed | |
| With agonizing fear; | 70 |
| He only heard the storm of night,— | |
| ’Twas music to his ear! | |
| |
| When, lo! the voice of loud alarm | |
| His inmost soul appals; | |
| ‘What ho! Lord William, rise in haste! | 75 |
| The water saps thy walls!’ | |
| |
| He rose in haste,—beneath the walls | |
| He saw the flood appear; | |
| It hemm’d him round,—’twas midnight now, | |
| No human aid was near. | 80 |
| |
| He heard a shout of joy, for now | |
| A boat approach’d the wall, | |
| And eager to the welcome aid | |
| They crowd for safety all. | |
| |
| ‘My boat is small,’ the boatman cried, | 85 |
| ‘’Twill bear but one away; | |
| Come in, Lord William, and do ye | |
| In God’s protection stay.’ | |
| |
| Strange feeling fill’d them at his voice, | |
| Even in that hour of woe, | 90 |
| That, save their lord, there was not one | |
| Who wished with him to go. | |
| |
| But William leapt into the boat,— | |
| His terror was so sore; | |
| ‘Thou shalt have half my gold,’ he cried, | 95 |
| ‘Haste!—haste to yonder shore!’ | |
| |
| The boatman plied the oar, the boat | |
| Went light along the stream; | |
| Sudden Lord William heard a cry | |
| Like Edmund’s drowning scream! | 100 |
| |
| The boatman paused, ‘Methought I heard | |
| A child’s distressful cry!’ | |
| ‘’Twas but the howling wind of night,’ | |
| Lord William made reply. | |
| |
| ‘Haste!—haste!—ply swift and strong the oar; | 105 |
| Haste!—haste across the stream!’ | |
| Again Lord William heard a cry | |
| Like Edmund’s drowning scream! | |
| |
| ‘I heard a child’s distressful voice,’ | |
| The boatman cried again. | 110 |
| ‘Nay, hasten on!—the night is dark— | |
| And we should search in vain!’ | |
| |
| ‘O God! Lord William, dost thou know | |
| How dreadful ’tis to die? | |
| And canst thou without pity hear | 115 |
| A child’s expiring cry? | |
| |
| ‘How horrible it is to sink | |
| Beneath the closing stream, | |
| To stretch the powerless arms in vain, | |
| In vain for help to scream!’ | 120 |
| |
| The shriek again was heard: it came | |
| More deep, more piercing loud; | |
| That instant o’er the flood the moon | |
| Shone through a broken cloud; | |
| |
| And near them they beheld a child; | 125 |
| Upon a crag he stood, | |
| A little crag, and all around | |
| Was spread the rising flood. | |
| |
| The boatman plied the oar, the boat | |
| Approach’d his resting-place; | 130 |
| The moon-beam shone upon the child, | |
| And show’d how pale his face. | |
| |
| ‘Now reach thine hand!’ the boatman cried, | |
| ‘Lord William, reach and save!’ | |
| The child stretch’d forth his little hands | 135 |
| To grasp the hand he gave! | |
| |
| Then William shriek’d; the hands he felt | |
| Were cold, and damp, and dead! | |
| He held young Edmund in his arms | |
| A heavier weight than lead! | 140 |
| |
| The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk | |
| Beneath the avenging stream; | |
| He rose, he shriek’d, no human ear | |
| Heard William’s drowning scream! | |
| |
