Henry gain'd the castle portal,
A footstep Clara's fears alarm'd;
She stops,—she lists,—they came,—fast panting,
Henry caught her in his arms.
Now no time for fond endearments,
Swift on wings of love they fled;
Till from father's house far distant,
Father's frowns no more they dread.
Then before the sacred altar,
They in wedlock join'd their hands:
Long their souls had been united
In indissoluble bands.
Now with virtuous rapture burning,
Whilst fond hope encreas'd the flame;
Tow'rds their home again returning,
To this lonesome place they came.
Christian, shall I close my story?
Words can never tell the tale;—
To relate a scene so bloody,
All the pow'rs of language fail.
In that glen so dark and dismal,
Five ruffians met this youthful pair;
Long the lover bravely struggled,
Fought to save his bride so fair.
But at last, o'erpowr'd and breathless,
Faint he sinks beneath their pow'r:
Joyful shouts the demon Murder,
In this gloomy midnight hour.
Bids them not to rest with plunder,
But their souls with rage inspires,
All their dark and flinty bosoms,
With infernal malice fires.
High they lift the murd'rous weapon,
Wretches, hear ye not her cries?
High they lift the murd'rous weapon?
Lo! her love, her husband dies!
Rocks, why stood ye so unmoved?
Earth, why op'dst thou not thy womb?
Lightnings, tempests, did ye slumber?
Scap'd these hell-hounds instant doom?