88
WESTERN RESERVE STUDIES
Far the light of life remove,
Night and horror shroud my head.
Can I live to mourn my love?
Can I joy when William's dead?"
Night and horror shroud my head.
Can I live to mourn my love?
Can I joy when William's dead?"
Thus the frenzy of despair
Thro her swelling veins was driven,
Thus her madd'ning accents dare
War against the will of heaven;
Frantic thro' the livelong day
Her breast she beat, her hands she wrung,
Till Sol withdrew his golden ray,
And heaven's high arch with stars was hung.
Thro her swelling veins was driven,
Thus her madd'ning accents dare
War against the will of heaven;
Frantic thro' the livelong day
Her breast she beat, her hands she wrung,
Till Sol withdrew his golden ray,
And heaven's high arch with stars was hung.
Thro' the stillness of the night
Hark!—a horse—he this way bends.—
Now she hears the rider 'light,
Now his foot the step ascends.
Hark!—the tinkling gate bell rung
Now her listening senses hear.—
Accents from a well-known tongue
Thro' the portal reach her ear.
Hark!—a horse—he this way bends.—
Now she hears the rider 'light,
Now his foot the step ascends.
Hark!—the tinkling gate bell rung
Now her listening senses hear.—
Accents from a well-known tongue
Thro' the portal reach her ear.
"Rise my love—the bar remove—
Dost thou wake or dost thou sleep?
Think'st thou of thy absent love?"—
Dost thou laugh or dost thou weep?"—
"William! Thou?—From sorrow's power
I have learn'd to weep, and wake.
Whence in midnight's gloomy hour,
Whence his course does William take?"
Dost thou wake or dost thou sleep?
Think'st thou of thy absent love?"—
Dost thou laugh or dost thou weep?"—
"William! Thou?—From sorrow's power
I have learn'd to weep, and wake.
Whence in midnight's gloomy hour,
Whence his course does William take?"
"We can only ride by night.—
From Bohemia's plains I come,
Late, ah late I come, but dight
To bear thee to my distant home."—
"William! William! hither haste.—
Thro' the hawthorne blows the wind,
In my glowing arms embraced
Rest, and warmth, my love shall find."
From Bohemia's plains I come,
Late, ah late I come, but dight
To bear thee to my distant home."—
"William! William! hither haste.—
Thro' the hawthorne blows the wind,
In my glowing arms embraced
Rest, and warmth, my love shall find."
"Thro' the hawthorne let the winds
Keenly blow with breath severe,
The Courser paws, the spur he finds,
Ah! I must not linger here.
Lightly on the sable steed
Come, my love,—behind me spring.
Many a mile o'erpast with speed,
To our bride-bed shall thee bring."
Keenly blow with breath severe,
The Courser paws, the spur he finds,
Ah! I must not linger here.
Lightly on the sable steed
Come, my love,—behind me spring.
Many a mile o'erpast with speed,
To our bride-bed shall thee bring."
