The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 405, December 19, 1829

Now while I wake to weep,
O thou to them hast comfort brought,
Repose and gentle sleep.

Wished too, thou comest to me; now I
Am lonely, and am free,
And with my many sighs profound
May ease my misery.

Alas! what evil have I done
They treat me so severely?
My father always called me his
Good child whom he loved dearly.

My dying mother on my head
Poured her best blessings forth:
It may in heaven be fulfill'd,
But surely not on earth!

Change not this blessing to a curse
For those who me offend.
O God! forgive them what they do,
And cause them to amend.

Ah, I with patience might bear all,
If, Love, thou wouldst not be,
Thou who consumest my troubled heart
With hopeless agony!

If now, while one sweet hope remains,
I cannot this endure;
Thou breakest then, poor heart. So, 'till
Thou breakest, hold it sure."

Meanwhile, sweeps on a knightly man,
Upon his gallant steed,
And reaches, guided by the path,
The castle bridge, with speed.

There deeply sank into his heart,
The plaint of the ladye,
He deems she pleads to him for help,
And will her saviour be.

Full of impatience and desire,
His glowing eyes ranged round,
Till high, within the window, they
The lovely lady found.

"Ah! lady, speak, why mournest thou?
Confide thy grief to me,
And to thy cause this sword, this arm,
This life, devoted be!"

"Ah! noble knight, nor sword, nor arm
I need, right well I wot,
But comfort for my sorrowing heart.
And, ah, that thou hast not!"

"Let me partake thy saddening woe.
That will divide thy grief.
My tear of pity will bestow
Both comfort and relief."

"Thou good kind youth, then hear my tale;
An orphan I, sir knight,
And with my parents did expire
My peace and my delight

An uncle and an aunt are now
To me in parents' stead,
Who wound my heart, (God pardon it!)
As if they wished me dead.

My father was a wealthy Count:
The inheritance now mine—
Would I were poor! this wretched wealth
'Tis makes me to repine.

My uncle thirsteth, day and night,
For my possessions rare,
And therefore shuts me in this tower.
Hard-hearted and severe.

Here shall I bide, he threatens, choose
I not, in three days, whether
I wed his son, or leave the world.
For a cloister, altogether.

How quickly might the choice be made.
And I the veil assume,
Ah, had my youthful heart not loved
A youth in beauty's bloom.

The youngest at the tournament,
I saw him, and I loved,
So free, so noble, and so bold—
No one like him approved!"

"Be, noble lady, of good cheer.