Daughters of Albion! weep; On this triumphant plain, O! gently close the eye That loved to look on you; O seal the lip whose earliest sigh, With knots of sweetest flowers. Their winding-sheet perfume; And wash their wounds with true-love showers, And dress them for the tomb. For beautiful in death The Warrior's corse appears, Embalm'd by fond Affection's breath, And bathed in Woman's tears. -Give me the death of those Who for their country die; And O be mine like their repose, When cold and low they lie! Their loveliest mother Earth Enshrines the fallen brave, In her sweet lap who gave them birth, THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. RETURNING from their evening walk, On yonder ancient stile, EDMUND, the monarch of the dale, ELLA, the lilly of the vale, The rose of Auburn's bowers! In airy Love's delightful bands "Ah! why," said he, "our bliss delay! "Mine ELLA; why so cold? "Those who but love from day to day, "From day to day grow old. "The bounding arrow cleaves the sky, "Nor leaves a trace behind; "And single lives like arrows fly, "In wedlock's sweet endearing lot "Let us improve the scene, "That some may be when we are not, "To tell-that we have been." "Tis now," replied the village Belle, "How, when the midnight signal tolls, "The ghosts of all whom Death shall doem "Within the coming year, "In pale procession walk the gloom, "Amid the silence drear! "If EDMUND, bold in conscious might, "By love severely tried, "Can brave the terrors of to-night, "ELLA will be his bride." She spake, and like the nimble fawn, He sought, across the rural lawn, That silent, solemn, simple spot, The gliding moon through heaven serene Pursued her tranquil way, And shed o'er all the sleeping scene A soft nocturnal day. With swelling heart and eager feet Young EDMUND gain'd the church, And chose his solitary seat Within the dreadful porch. Thick, threatening clouds assembled soon, Their dragon wings display'd; Eclipsed the slow retiring moon, And quench'd the stars in shade. Amid the deep abyss of gloom Save, glistening o'er some haunted tomb, The village watch-dogs bay'd around, All on a sudden died the blast, Dumb horrour chill'd the air, -Twelve times the midnight herald toll'd, As oft did EDMUND start; For every stroke fell dead and cold Then glaring through the ghastly gloom, The destined victims of the tomb In that strange moment EDMUND stood, While creeping horrour drank his blood, He saw the secrets of the grave! Yet still the scene his soul beguiled, And every spectre cast A look unutterably wild, On EDMUND as they pass'd. |