Deep in a vale’s sequester’d shade,
Blossom’d a young and lovely maid,
Enchanting Geraldine! To thee,
Suppliant nobles bent the knee,
For never human eye might trace
A finer form, or fairer face.80
But every ardent suit she flies,
And casts on all averted eyes,
’Till Osmond came!—What female soul
Could e’er withstand his soft control,
Could see him weep, could hear him sigh,
And mark the language of that eye,
And still unthaw’d, unmov’d remain?—
Alas! for her, th’ attempt was vain!
Long time the pair enamour’d, prove
The blissful joys of mutual love,90
’Till Osmond cool’d!—On weak pretence,
He, feigning matter of offence,
Deserted her, whose faithful heart
Could ne’er from Osmond’s image part.
What anguish’d grief, what love by turns,
In Geraldine’s rack’d bosom burns,—
Sighs, tears, and groans, consum’d the day!
Sighs, tears, and groans, wore night away!
At length the fatal news is brought,
“Lord Osmond has in spousals sought100
“The high-born Emma!”—Oh, what pain
Thrill’d then across her madd’ning brain,
’Till fondness fled, and direful rage,
And vengeance stern, her thoughts engage.
But lo! her beldam nurse appears,
Well worn in vice, and bow’d with years,
A potent witch! whose dreadful spell
Had pow’r to bind the fiends of hell.
To her the injur’d beauty flies,
Her soul fierce flashing in her eyes,110
And weeping tells her, how the youth
Had broke his vows of love and truth.
“What though, alas!” the fair one cried,
“I may not, cannot be his bride,
“Revenge is mine! may death and wo—
“Whom would I curse?—my Osmond!—no!
“Him, Dira, him, though faithless, spare,—
“Turn all thy vengeance on the fair,
“Who’s robb’d me of his valued heart,
“Stab, stab her soul with poison’s dart,—120
“Against her, all thy charms employ,
“Her life, her soul, her all destroy!”
She ceas’d; but still her eye-ball’s glare
Shew’d vengeance fierce and fix’d was there,
And still that brow declares too well,
What human tongue can feebly tell.
Her Dira soothes, and hastes t’ unfold
The secrets of a heart grown old
In vice,—whose very name would thrill
And damp the soul with shudd’ring chill,130
And to her awe-struck list’ner tells
Her hellish charms, and demon spells;
Proceeds the dreadful means to shew,
To blight young Emma’s hopes with wo.
One thing alone would still remain,
And Geraldine must that obtain,
To aid their plans,—from Emma fair,
On nuptial day, a lock of hair.
Her well-known features now to hide,
A veil, in thickest sable dy’d,140
Around her lovely face was tied.
And she it was, upon that day,
Who met the lovers in their way,
And gain’d the prize!—for, in her hold
Bright beams the wavy lock of gold.
Mean time to Osmond’s lofty halls,
The God of Love and Pleasure calls.
Hark, hark, loud clamours rend the air,
“Long live our Lord and Emma fair!”
Hark, hark, the minstrels tune their lays,150
In one glad song of joy and praise;
And love and wit combine their pow’r,
To gild with bliss each halcyon hour;
And all around is blithe and gay,—
For this is Osmond’s nuptial day!
GERALDINE;
OR,