Classic Poem

The Browns that lived at Burncoombe Hall
Invited Linda down to spend
An evening with some friends, that all
Met there to see the old year's end;
And for his worthy father's sake, —
For they had known him from his birth, —
They ask'd young Erwin down to take
His share of that gay evening's mirth.
And Erwin, in his shape and height,
Stood up the smartest young man there;
And Linda walk'd in shining white
By far the fairest of the fair.
And when the freaky tune was done,
And breathless dancers, in a ring,
Sat round the room; and ev'ry one
Was called upon in turn to sing;
Then Mr. Wanhope, when it came
To Erwin, cried " You can't decline
To sing — I do not know its name —
That little song of yours and mine."

ERWIN'S SONG

O lonely moon that castest wide
Thy light o'er all the houses side,
And down upon the dewless stones,
The yard-begirting wall inzones,
I would that I could own to-night
A dewy lawn below thy light,
And elms with half-light heads to throw
Their quiv'ring shadows down below,
And poplars, whisp'ring by a sheet
Of sparkling water at my feet.
O lonely moon! I wish that I
Had lands below thy pallid sky.

How great might then have been my bliss
On such a summer night as this,
To lead abroad, with thee above
Her smiling looks, the maid I love;
Below a tree's o'ershading limb,
Beside the sparkling water's brim;
The while her joy-bemoisten'd eyes
Might glisten to thy pallid skies,
And her low words might mingle soft
With rustlings of the boughs aloft.
O lonely moon! I wish that I
Had lands below thy pallid sky.

But this is only idle thought,
Since love's enthralling smiles are bought;
And she I would have won is sold,
All comely as she is, for gold;
Though if I had but fields and streams
Now lying underneath thy beams,
Then, lonely moon, thou mightest show
My eyes the smiles I now forgo,
And lighten up the glossy brow
That's never lifted to me now.
O lonely moon! I would that I
Had lands below thy pallid sky.

But Linda, with a downcast head,
As soon as Erwin's song was o'er,
Rose up with hasty steps, and fled
To weep unseen without the door.
And when their evening's mirth was o'er,
And, in the darksome night-air, rung
Before the rose-bewreathed door,
" Good night," " Good night," from ev'ry tongue,
Then Mr. Wanhope softly smil'd
On Erwin, with a kindly face,
As he was ling'ring, love-beguil'd,
To see fair Linda leave the place:
And whisper'd in his ear " You ought,
You know, on such a night as this,
To see Miss Linda home. Fear nought.
She cannot take the deed amiss."
So timid, but with manly grace,
By warmly-blushing Linda's side,
He took his own too blissful place,
That night first sought and undenied.
And ere they parted, she confess'd,
In words his love could not mistake,
What gave him joy that broke his rest
That happy night of Burncoombe Wake.
But when her hasty father heard
Of what had happen'd, wild with rage,
He shut her up like some poor bird
That pines within a narrow cage,
And from her rosy cheeks he clipp'd
Her locks, and in her wax-white ears
He spoke, with anger, grisly-lipp'd,
Hard words that brought her bitter tears.
But Mr. Wanhope, who could find
The trials of his own true heart
In Erwin's, with a yearning mind
To make him happy, took his part;
And, having none of kin to share
The growing wealth that he had won,
He made him, by his will, his heir,
To take his name as his own son.
So when he died, all these his lands
Fell into Erwin Akley's hands.
And so —

CONCLUSION

— While thus she speaks they hear the sound
Of trampling horses' feet upon the ground,
And crackling carriage wheels, that stop before
The fair-wall'd house, and porch-beshaded door,
That, swinging slowly backward, opens wide
For Erwin, and for Linda made his bride.
For Mr. Farmund now withholds no more
His lovely Linda from her Erwin's door;
And she, brought home this happy night, has show'd
Her wife's first smiles within her new abode:
Where he has gathered round his hall fireside
The few that stood his friends when he was tried.
So joy be with them all, and joy betide
Each faithful husband and true-hearted bride.