Classic Poem

BY THE SAME

O' ER evening skies the queen of night
Had spread her silver beam,
That ting'd the neighb'ring hills with light,
Or sported in the stream.

No peasants, wand'ring through the plains,
On sounds melodious hung;
All still, but where her love-lorn strains
Sweet Philomela sung.

To hear thy tender woes display'd,
Sweet songstress of the grove,
The melancholy Albert stray'd,
A prey to hopeless love.

Fast o'er his health's declining bloom
A wasting languor flew;
So noon-tide suns, with fervid beam,
Exhale the morning dew.

'Twas bright Elweena, matchless maid,
Whose beauties fann'd the flame;
And taught him 'neath the lonely shape,
In sighs, to breathe her name.

In absence oft he sought relief,
And vow'd to love no more;
But absence sharpen'd ev'ry grief,
That pierc'd his soul before.

In equal pain Elweena sigh'd,
And mutual love express'd;
But, ah! her father's cruel pride
Forbade them to be bless'd.

Young Albert's innocence and truth
He could not disapprove;
But fortune plac'd the luckless youth
Beneath his daughter's love.

Such worth might well esteem inspire,
It almost won his praise;
But av'rice quell'd the kindling fire,
Compassion strove to raise.

Soft o'er the morn of Albert's life
Had fortune smil'd serene;
How bless'd the youth, till bitter strife
Revers'd the happy scene!

He, with his widow'd mother dwelt,
In solitude obscure;
And every shock of fate she felt
He help'd her to endure.

Long since the fatal news had pass'd
The mourning village o'er;
That her brave husband breath'd his last
On India's distant shore.

But added to her hapless doom
Was now her Albert's grief;
She saw him wither in his bloom,
Nor could she yield relief:

For, with a heart devoid of blame,
He liv'd to joy no more;
And now resolv'd, for wealth and fame,
To search some foreign shore.

The night was come, the fatal night,
Replete with tender pain;
Doom'd, in his native land, the light
Ne'er to behold again.

And now the pensive mourner stray'd,
No gleam of hope he knew;
He went to bid his charming maid.
A long, a last, adieu!

As o'er her form soft sorrow stole,
Her thoughts you might descry;
It seem'd, as if her spotless soul
Beam'd from her azure eye.

No more her cheek that glow express'd
Which health had once display'd,
While, careless o'er her lily breast,
Her auburn tresses play'd.

Alas! she cry'd, and clasp'd his hand,
And press'd it to her heart;
And do the cruel fates command!
And must we, Albert, part?

We must, o'erwhelm'd in grief, he said,
We must, Elweena dear!
But, e'er I go, afflicted maid,
Accept my vow sincere.

Whene'er through foreign lands I roam,
Whatever change I see;
Still, turning to my native home,
My heart shall dwell with thee.

He said, and o'er Elweena's breast
The briny torrent fell;
A thousand times her hand he press'd,
And bade as oft farewel.

They part, and through the mournful grove
Her maids Elweena bore;
Each cast a ling'ring look of love,
Till they could view no more.

Now, softly o'er the dewy plain,
Night's dusky shadows stole;
While anguish, love, and cruel pain,
Oppress'd young Albert's soul.

His mother gently on his breast
Reclin'd her drooping head;
The weeping youth she sondly press'd,
And mutual sorrows shed.

While, strangers to each peaceful smile,
They mourn'd their luckless fate,
An aged pilgrim, spent with toil,
Approach'd the cottage-gate.

The mournful youth, in humble plight,
Address'd the rev'rend sage;
Who ask'd a shelter for the night,
To rest his drooping age.

Full welcome to their humble shed,
The hospitable pair
With lib'ral hand the viands spread,
And bade the stranger share.

With pain he mark'd the cruel grief,
That prey'd on either heart;
Which (anxious to extend relief)
He begg'd them to impart.

With livid cheek, and tearful eye,
The pensive Albert rose;
And told, but, oh! with many a sigh,
The story of his woes!

His life, his birth, his father's name,
His mother's tender care;
But, still more sad, the fatal flame
He bore Elweena fair.

The good old man with transport flew,
And press'd the youth, and smil'd;
He cry'd, support me, heavens, I view
My long-lost wife and child!

'Twas on no distant Indian shore
Thy father sunk to rest;
But now returns, with ample store,
To make his Albert bless'd.

And thou, dear partner of my soul,
Whom oft my fancy drew;
Nor time, nor absence, could controul
The pangs I felt for you!

Then chase all sorrow from your breast,
Secure from bitter strife;
Myself will soothe to balmy rest
The evening of your life.

He ceas'd; and to his constant fair
Enraptur'd Albert flew;
And left the long-divided pair
To tell their joys anew.

The blissful news Elweena told,
And made her sire relent;
Nor more to Albert's passion cold,
Nor more deny'd consent.

And, when the azure-vested day
Dawn'd o'er the smiling land,
In mutual bliss, serenely gay,
They join'd the nuptial band.