Near the lone pile with ivy overspread, Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound, Where 'sleeps the moonlight' on yon verdant bed -- O humbly press that consecrated ground! For there does Edmund rest, the learned swain! And there his spirit most delights to rove: Young Edmund! fam'd for each harmonious strain, And the sore wounds of ill-requited Love. Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide, And loads the West-wind with its soft perfume, His manhood blossom'd; till the faithless pride Of fair Matilda sank him to the tomb. But soon did righteous Heaven her Guilt pursue! Where'er with wilder'd step she wander'd pale, Still Edmund's image rose to blast her view, Still Edmund's voice accus'd her in each gale. With keen regret, and conscious Guilt's alarms, Amid the pomp of Affluence she pined; Nor all that lur'd her faith from Edmund's arms Could lull the wakeful horror of her mind. Go, Traveller! tell the tale with sorrow fraught: Some tearful Maid perchance, or blooming Youth, May hold it in remembrance; and be taught That Riches cannot pay for Love or Truth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DREAM SONG: 2 by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SEVEN TIMES SIX [ - GIVING IN MARRIAGE] by JEAN INGELOW LAY OF THE TRILOBITE by MAY EMMA GOLDWORTH KENDALL MY LOST YOUTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SAILOR'S WIFE by JEAN ADAMS |