Linda
A BALLAD .
A LONG the moorland, bleak and bare,
The blast of winter blew;
O'er midnight's dark and dreary face
The snow tempestuous flew;
When Linda, poor forsaken maid,
With none her griefs to share,
Kept on her rude and lonely path,
In silent, sad despair.
A baby clung to her aching breast,
Whose wild and feeble wail
Filled up the pauses of the storm,
And rose upon the gale;
And, ah! that helpless infant's cry
Smote heavy on her heart,
While visions pressed upon her brain —
Too dreadful to depart.
She kissed its cheek adoringly —
At length it sweetly slept;
She raised to Heaven her streaming eyes,
And thus she prayed and wept: —
" Oh! Thou who see'st my contrite tears,
Assist me in this hour,
And show the spoiler of my peace
Thy mercy and thy power!
" He found me in my quiet home,
While yet my cares were light, —
Ere sin had tinged my inmost thoughts,
Or sorrow breathed its blight;
His sighs of passion fanned my cheek,
But withered all its bloom;
He drew me down from innocence,
And left me to my doom.
" My father drove me from his door,
With curses stern and deep;
My mother watched me as I went,
But only dared to weep;
My comrades in that pleasant vale
Where I was reared and born, —
They strove to shun me as I passed,
Or followed me with scorn.
" And thou, my last, sole solace now,
Reposing calmly still,
Sweet fruit of all my guilty joys,
Whose lips are blanched and chill;
Thy sire's away from thee and me,
Where all are fair and kind,
Regardless of the ruined hopes
That he hath left behind.
" But ah! what fearful sign is this!
I feel no more thy breath!
Thy lips are cold — thy pulse is still!
Thy slumber, then, is death!
O God! let not thy wakened wrath
My shrinking soul pursue,
But since my child is gone to thee,
Oh! take his mother too! "
With shattered frame and mind subdued,
Expiring Linda fell;
But let us hope that heaven forgave,
And mercy whispered, " Well! "
Nor love's, nor friendship's voice was there,
To breathe a soothing tone: —
She died upon that desert heath,
Heart-broken and alone!
Roused early to his daily toil,
A peasant bent his way
Where, stretched in lifeless loveliness,
Seduction's victim lay;
Her bones lie mouldering where she died,
Beneath the barren sod,
Crown'd with a record of her fate,
Appealing unto God!
Young hearts grow sad, and youthful eyes
Grow tearful at her name,
And trembling lips repeat her tale
Of misery and shame;
And gentle hands bring early flowers
To strew above her breast;
And kindred knees imprint the turf
Around her place of rest.
But where is HE — the cause of all, —
Lost Linda's only foe;
Who triumphed in that selfish joy
Which made another's woe?
Thou of the false and cruel heart,
Repent thee of the past!
This deed may stand in dark array,
To startle thee at last!
A LONG the moorland, bleak and bare,
The blast of winter blew;
O'er midnight's dark and dreary face
The snow tempestuous flew;
When Linda, poor forsaken maid,
With none her griefs to share,
Kept on her rude and lonely path,
In silent, sad despair.
A baby clung to her aching breast,
Whose wild and feeble wail
Filled up the pauses of the storm,
And rose upon the gale;
And, ah! that helpless infant's cry
Smote heavy on her heart,
While visions pressed upon her brain —
Too dreadful to depart.
She kissed its cheek adoringly —
At length it sweetly slept;
She raised to Heaven her streaming eyes,
And thus she prayed and wept: —
" Oh! Thou who see'st my contrite tears,
Assist me in this hour,
And show the spoiler of my peace
Thy mercy and thy power!
" He found me in my quiet home,
While yet my cares were light, —
Ere sin had tinged my inmost thoughts,
Or sorrow breathed its blight;
His sighs of passion fanned my cheek,
But withered all its bloom;
He drew me down from innocence,
And left me to my doom.
" My father drove me from his door,
With curses stern and deep;
My mother watched me as I went,
But only dared to weep;
My comrades in that pleasant vale
Where I was reared and born, —
They strove to shun me as I passed,
Or followed me with scorn.
" And thou, my last, sole solace now,
Reposing calmly still,
Sweet fruit of all my guilty joys,
Whose lips are blanched and chill;
Thy sire's away from thee and me,
Where all are fair and kind,
Regardless of the ruined hopes
That he hath left behind.
" But ah! what fearful sign is this!
I feel no more thy breath!
Thy lips are cold — thy pulse is still!
Thy slumber, then, is death!
O God! let not thy wakened wrath
My shrinking soul pursue,
But since my child is gone to thee,
Oh! take his mother too! "
With shattered frame and mind subdued,
Expiring Linda fell;
But let us hope that heaven forgave,
And mercy whispered, " Well! "
Nor love's, nor friendship's voice was there,
To breathe a soothing tone: —
She died upon that desert heath,
Heart-broken and alone!
Roused early to his daily toil,
A peasant bent his way
Where, stretched in lifeless loveliness,
Seduction's victim lay;
Her bones lie mouldering where she died,
Beneath the barren sod,
Crown'd with a record of her fate,
Appealing unto God!
Young hearts grow sad, and youthful eyes
Grow tearful at her name,
And trembling lips repeat her tale
Of misery and shame;
And gentle hands bring early flowers
To strew above her breast;
And kindred knees imprint the turf
Around her place of rest.
But where is HE — the cause of all, —
Lost Linda's only foe;
Who triumphed in that selfish joy
Which made another's woe?
Thou of the false and cruel heart,
Repent thee of the past!
This deed may stand in dark array,
To startle thee at last!
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