NOW sad and slow with solemn paces,
She wanders thro the castle’s courts;
Sighing as she the scene retraces,
Where silence reigns, instead of sports.
Come mourn with me, my maids so duteous,
Come mourn with me, my knight so bold;
Alas! I fear his face so beauteous,
These eyes again shall ne’er behold.
Sir Stephen on Eliza pond’ring,
Wrapt in love’s chimeras bright;
Heeded not his proud steed’s wand’ring,
Nor the fast approach of night.
Till passing by a forest gloomy,
Silent, dismal, dark and dreary;
Where never zephyr’s breath perfumy,
The weary traveller did cheer.
Amaz’d he finds he’s unattended,
And wonders where his people stay;
Is with their negligence offended,
For letting thus their master stray.
Sudden a scream his ear surprizes,
Of a female shrill and clear;
Which fill his mind with strange surmises,
Tho’ his firm heart admits no fear.
Could a knight so fam’d for glory
Shrink, when danger loudly calls;
Fame must immortalize the story,
When a gallant hero falls.
Forward he springs in the direction,
Whence proceeds the distant groan;
Eager to offer his protection,
Heedless to danger of his own.
And soon did he a sight discover,
Which did move his mind to rage;
For two fierce ruffians strove to smother
The cries, which did his ears engage.
A beauteous female they were tying,
On a steed so proud and bold;
Whilst every effort she was trying,
To escape their grasping hold.
And near beside them one superior
Stood to urge their speedy flight;
That they might reach the wood’s interior,
Where stood his castle, fair and bright.
Oh stop! Sir Stephen cried, descending
From his foaming coarser’s side;
Oh stop! thy own life now defending,
For here thy prowess must be try’d.
Behold a knight, whose arm is stronger,
Who will protect that lady fair;
Do not delay a moment longer,
To yield her to my tender care.
Thus urg’d, the other knight surveying
Sir Stephen with disdainful glance;
Reply’d, you need not fear obeying,
E’en now thy fate doth quick advance.
For know’st thou not the bold Sir Armer,
Thy rival with Eliza fair?
For thee did not that cruel charmer,
With coldness drive me to despair?
Her kindest smiles to you still granting,
Whilst I met nought but cold disdain;
For deep revenge my heart is panting,
Oh! may you never meet again.
Thus saying, on Sir Stephen springing,
With vengeance darting from his eyes;
The hapless lady from him flinging,
Which late he seem’d so much to prize.
Then like two tigers fierce engaging,
With mutual hate, their swords they drew
Fell passion in their heart was raging,
Whilst light’ning from their weapons flew.
Long were these rival knights contending,
For each did play a hero’s game;
With little prospect of its ending,
As each in valour were the same.
‘Till one dire ruffian, stern, approaching,
One fit for an assassin’s part;
On laws of knighthood, bold encroaching,
Stabb’d Sir Stephen to the heart.
Fast his life’s blood was now flowing,
Fast approach’d the shades of death;
Dim his sparkling eyes were growing,
And soon was stopp’d his vital breath.
Eliza, melancholy lying,
Thinking on her absent swain;
Whilst gentle hope in vain was trying,
To banish from her bosom pain.
When, lo! a ray her room’s illuming,
With a glow of radiant light;
A figure then, the form assuming
Of Sir Stephen, met her sight.
Pale and wan was every feature,
Fix’d and haggard was his eye:
Faint was the voice which then did greet her,
And hollow was his heavy sigh.
Prepare a grave, Eliza dearest,
For cold and dead thy lover lies;
And all those horrors which thou fearest,
Are come by treachery and surprise.
Prepare a grave for thy fond lover,
Who now in yonder forest lies;
Without a shroud his corse to cover,
Without a hand to close his eyes.
Frantic with grief, her maids loud calling,
She tells Sir Stephen’s story dire;
Then into strong convulsions falling,
Calling on him, did she expire.
Attendants seek the murder’d Stephen,
In the forest dark and drear;
And found his mangled body, even
As the spectre did declare.
The cold, deep, grave receives the lovers,
The grave instead of bridal bed ;
Green is the sod their bones which covers,
And white the stone where rests each head.
But long shall they survive in story,
Who now rest free from all alarms;
Sir Stephen fam’d for truth and glory;
Eliza, matchless for her charms.
(Caroline Maxwell)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Fairness Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Cry Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Pain Poems, Fear Poems, Success PoemsBased on Keywords: surveying, convulsions, chimeras, coarser, ruffians, encroaching, fearest, duteous, negligence, immortalize, illuming