Poems by Matilda Betham Part 9

Why must thy proud, suspicious air, Give every heart a pain?

Why must my son, my Edgar bear Unmerited disdain?"

I hung my bead, my fault'ring tongue In feeble murmurs spoke, His specious art my bosom wrung, I shudder'd at his look.

And thus, bewildered with my woes, I faint and careless rove; For oh! I cannot dwell with those I must no longer love."

"Fair lady, calm that anxious heart, And to my voice attend!

Thy father died by Hubert's dart, And yet he was his friend.

For Lancaster Sir Philip rose, And many a Yorkist slew; Till, singling him amidst his foes, Lord Hubert's arrow flew.

But soon we saw the victor stand Beside, in sorrow drown'd; And soon Sir Philip took the hand, Which gave the deadly wound.

"My friend, unweeting was thy aim, And is by me forgiv'n, But oh! one sacred oath I claim, In sight of men, and heav'n!

Oh! promise with a father's zeal, My Ellen to protect!

Nor let her like an orphan feel Dependence, and neglect!

And then, almost without regret, I can my charge resign; For, during life, I never met So true a heart as thine."

Lord Hubert pledg'd his sacred word, He wept, and, kneeling, swore, In England ne'er to wield a sword, Or shoot an arrow more.

From civil war, whose daily crimes This island long shall rue, From all the evil of the times, In anguish he withdrew.

I wonder that, by nature bold, He stoop'd to wear disguise, Or leave the hapless tale untold, Which wakens thy surprise!

Yet the sad shame that fill'd his breast, May well thy pity crave, A turtle dove may build her nest Upon thy father's grave--"

"Stranger, that warrior from the east, Who comes with headlong speed, Is Edgar, Hubert's son, at least, He rides on Edgar's steed!"

"Be calm, fair maid! Thou gallant knight, Who speedest o'er the plain, Give us some tidings of the fight, The victor and the slain!

One moment stay! for many a care Now fills us with alarm!

Is Edward King? Is Hubert's heir, Escap'd from death and harm?"

"The sun of Lancaster is set, And never more to rise;"

Return'd the knight, "I know not yet If Edgar lives or dies!"

And scarce he check'd the flowing rein, In hurried accents spoke, And, dull and hollow was the strain That through the helmet broke.

"Where is he?" shriek'd fair Ellen forth, He started at the sound, And, leaping sudden on the earth, His armour rang around.

"Queen of my destiny!" he cried, "Thy faithful Edgar see!

Whose welfare thou canst best decide, For it depends on thee!

I sav'd our youthful Monarch's life, Whose bounteous hand accords, A dower to grace the n.o.blest wife That England's realm affords.

With thee his splendid gifts I share, Or soon this youthful head A solemn monk's dark cowl shall wear, To love and glory dead.

Perhaps that tear upon thy cheek Foretels a milder doom!

Thou wilt again our mansion seek, Oh! let me lead thee home!"

_FINIS._