The Rhode Island Republican

POETRY.

BEAUTIFUL BALLAD.

Lord William, when William plung'd
Young Edmund in the stream
No eye beheld, when William plung'd
Young Edmund in the stream;
No human ear, but William's heard
Young Edmund's drowning scream.
Submissive at the vassals own'd
The murderer for their Lord,
And he, the rightful heir, possess'd
The house of Erlingford.
The ancient house of Erlingford
Blood met a fair domain:
And better's ample valour rear'd
Roll'd through the fertile plain,
And often the wayfaring man
Would love to linger there,
Forgetful of his onward road,
To taste scenes so fair.
But, never could Lord William dare
To gaze on Severn's stream,
For every wind that swept its waves,
He heard young Edmund scream.
At midnight's silent hour,
Sleep clos'd the murderer's eyes;
In every dream the murderer saw
Young Edmund's form arise.
In vain, by restless conscience driven,
Lord William left his home,
Far from the scenes that saw his guilt
In pilgrimage to roam.
To other climes the pilgrim fled.
But could not fly despair:
He sought his home again, but peace
Was still a stranger there.
Each hour was tedious long, yet swift
The months appear'd to roll:
And now the day return'd that shook
With terror William's soul.
A day that William never felt
Return without dismay,
For well had conscience calendar'd
Young Edmund's dying day.
A fearful day was that! the rains
Fell fast, with tempest roar,
And tho swoln side of Severn spread
Far on the level shore.
In vain Lord William sought the feast,
In vain he quaff'd the bowl,
And strove with noisy mirth to drown
The anguish of his soul.
The tempest as its sudden swell
In gusty howlings came,
With cold and death-like feelings, seem'd
To thrill his shuddering frame.
Reluctant, now, as night came on,
His lonely couch he prest,
And wearied out, he sunk to sleep-
To sleep--but not to rest.
Beside the couch his Brother's form,
Lord Edmund seem'd to stand,
Such and so pale, as when in death
He grasp'd his Brother's hand.
Such and so pale his face, as when
With faint and faltering tongue,
To William's care, a dying charge,
His life his orphan son.
"I bade thee, with a father's love,
My orphan, Edmund, guard;
Well, William! hast thou kept my charge!
Now take thy due reward."
He started up, each limb convuls'd
With agonizing fear
He only heard the storm of night-
'Twas music to his ear.
When lo! the voice of loud alarum
His inmost soul appalls:
What ho! Lord William! rise in haste,
The water saps thy Walls.
He rose in haste: beneath the walls
He saw the flood appear,
It beam'd him round, 'twas midnight now,
No human aid was near.
He heard the shout of joy, for now
A boat approach'd the wall,
And eager to the welcome bid
They crowd for safety all.
"My boat is small," the boatman cried,
"This dangerous haste forbear;
Wait other aid, this little boat,
But one from hence can bear."
Lord William leapt into the boat,
Haste, haste to yonder shore,
And ample wealth shall well reward
Ply swift and strong the oar.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Went light along the stream;
Sudden, Lord William heard a cry,
Like Edmund's drowning scream
The boatman paus'd--methought I heard
A child's distressful cry!
'Twas but the howling wind of night,
Lord William made reply
Haste, haste, ply swift and strong the oar,
Haste, haste across the stream
Again Lord William heard a cry,
Like Edmund's drowning scream.
"I heard a child's distressful scream,"
The boatman cried again;
"Nay, hasten on, the night is dark,
And we should search in vain."
Oh, God! Lord William dost thou know
How dreadful 'tis to die?
And canst thou, without pity, bear
A child's expiring cry!
How horrible it is to sink
Beneath the chilly stream,
To stretch the powerless arms in vain,
In vain for help to scream!
The shriek again was heard, it came
More deep, more piercing loud,
That distant o'er the flood, the moon
Shone through a broken cloud.
And near them they beheld a child.
Upon a crag he stood.
A little crag, and all around
Was spread the rising flood.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Approach'd his resting place,
The moon-beam shone upon the child
And show'd how pale his face.
Now reach thine hand, the boatman cried
Lord William reach and care?
The child stretch'd forth his little hand
To grasp the hand he gave.
Then William shriek'd, the hand he touch'd
Was cold, and damp, and dead;
He felt young Edmund in his grasp
A buried voice he heard
The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk
Beneath the avenging stream;
He rose, he scream'd--no human ear
Heard William's drowning scream!