The western ocean roll'd in vain
Its parting waves between,
My Edward brav'd the dang'rous main,
And bless'd our native scene.
Soft Isis heard his artless tale,
Ah, stream for ever dear!
Whose waters, as they pass'd the vale,
Receiv'd a lover's tear.
How could a heart, that virtue lov'd,
(And sure that heart is mine)
Lamented youth! behold unmov'd,
The virtues that were thine?
Calm, as the surface of the lake,
When all the winds are still,
Mild, as the beams of morning break,
When first they light the hill;
So calm was his unruffled soul,
Where no rude passion strove;
So mild his soothing accents stole,
Upon the ear of love.
Where are the dear illusions fled
Which sooth'd my former hours?
Where is the path that fancy spread,
Ah, vainly spread with flowers!
I heard the battle's fearful sounds,
They seem'd my lover's knell—
I heard, that pierc'd with ghastly wounds,
My vent'rous lover fell!—
My sorrows shall with life endure,
For he I lov'd is gone;
But something tells my heart, that sure
My life will not be long."—
"My panting soul can bear no more,
The youth, impatient cried,
'Tis Edward bids thy griefs be o'er,
My love! my destin'd bride!
The life which heav'n preserv'd, how blest,
How fondly priz'd by me,
Since dear to my Amelia's breast,
Since valued still by thee!