Born in the western world, his hand
Maintains its hostile cause,
And fierce against Britannia's band
His erring sword he draws;
Yet feels the captive Briton's woe;
For his ennobled mind,
Forgets the name of Britain's foe,
In love of human kind.
Yet know, my child, a dearer tie
Has link'd his heart to mine;
He mourns with Friendship's holy sigh,
The youth belov'd of thine!
But hark! his welcome feet are near—
Thy rising grief suppress—
By darkness veil'd, he hastens here
To comfort, and to bless."—
"Stranger! for that dear father's sake
She cry'd, in accents mild,
Who lives by thy kind pity, take
The blessings of his child!
Oh, if in heaven, my Edward's breast
This deed of mercy knew,
That gives my tortur'd bosom rest,
He sure would bless thee too!
Oh tell me where my lover fell!
The fatal scene recall,
His last, dear accents, stranger, tell,
Oh haste and tell me all!
Say, if he gave to love the sigh,
That set his spirit free;
Say, did he raise his closing eye,
As if it sought for me."
"Ask not, her father cry'd, to know
What known were added pain;
Nor think, my child, the tale of woe
Thy softness can sustain."
"Tho' every joy with Edward fled,
When Edward's friend is near,
It sooths my breaking heart, she said,
To tell those joys were dear.