In plaintive accents, Edwin cries,
"And have I murder'd thee?
"To other worlds thy spirit flies,
"And mine this stroke shall free."
His hand the lifted weapon grasp'd,
The steel he firmly prest:
When wildly she arose, and clasp'd
Her lover to her breast.
"Methought, she cried with panting breath,
"My Edwin talk'd of peace;
"I knew 'twas only found in death,
"And fear'd that sad release.
"I clasp him still! 'twas but a dream--
"Help yon wide wound to close,
"From which a father's spirits stream,
"A father's life-blood flows.
"But see, from thee he shrinks, nor would
"Be blasted by thy touch;--
"Ah, tho' my Edwin spilt thy blood,
"Yet once he lov'd thee much.
"My father, yet in pity stay!--
"I see his white beard wave;
"A spirit beckons him away,
"And points to yonder grave.
"Alas, my love, I trembling hear
"A father's last adieu;
"I see, I see, the falling tear
"His wrinkled cheek bedew.
"He's gone, and here his ashes sleep--
"I do not heave a sigh,
"His child a father does not weep--
"For, ah, my brain is dry!
"But come, together let us rove,
"At the pale hour of night;
"When the moon wand'ring thro' the grove,
"Shall pour her faintest light.
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