Als 
. Shall no gay honors ¢tream ? 
No golden cloud of praisé 
O’erwave his way ? 
No hand of beauty bring 
The fruit of love ? 
Yes! the bard with daring arm 
‘or him shall hurl on high 
The glittering shaft of praise ; 
And, in the circling dance of May, 
The hand of beauty shall bestow 
The hawthorn- wreath she cull’d, 
And for the evening bower 
A sweeter wreath reserve. 
No primrose strown upon the grave, 
Wo hearse-song from the wailing friend, 
Nor e’en the lover’s tear, 
@an bribe Siguna toresign , 
‘The virginy who unwedded dies. 
Through sullen fog, and dreary wilds, 
Through cold, and ghastly air, 
She roves the live-long day 5 
Or onthe elder’s bough 
A lonely pillow finds, 
Mer brows enwrapt with rue, 
Hier food the scaly worm, 
But she whom warriors choose, 
Shall view Valhalla’s bowers. | 
Then learn the lore of love 
Ere youth and beauty fade, 
Lest May, with fowers so sweet, 
Return no more. 
Edw. Ochear, Editha, and allow thy bo- 
s0m 
To vibrate sympathy. Yes, let us crop 
The flowers of life, while with the morning 
dew 
Qf sparkling youth their fragrant buds are 
laden. 
(Tosrr returns, grasps the band of Epirua; 
ond leads her with studied calmness from the 
table into the vestibule.) 
Z. Thy uncle is the deep dissembling 
villain, 
Yor which I took him. One of those I sta- 
tion’d 
Within yon forest, comes to bring me word 
@hat in the self-samg spot, by Harold’s 
order, 
Some vassals of the king’s had sought an 
ambush 
To seize thee for his evil purposes, 
When thou should’st quit the table. 
£di. Omy father! 
J. Editha, art thou honest? Dost thou 
fear, ; 
Mire than the shaft of death, the loss of 
b virtue ? 
Edi. I hope so, father. 
T. (Gives a dagger.) Here then———Thou 
att safe, 
Child, we are overmatch’d: my vassals yon- 
~ der i 
Are much too few to force us safely hence. 
- Bdig What must] do? 
Harold and Tosti, a Tragedy. 
ce 
Maid, do not rack my soul. 
fathers 
Thy father's 
Have hitherto been stainless-eliv’d with ho- — 
nor— 
And, when the choice was infamy or death, 
Krew which to beckon with unfaltering 
hand. 
Think—Ill be with theesoon. .... Yes, 
yes, I have it.— 
Lok, from thy black abyss, on heaving storms 
Ascend, and curtain with thy raven-pinions 
My darken’d soul. With thy own hell pos- 
sess me. 
. Breathe flaming venom through my swelling 
velns, 
That I may hateh within this brooding 
breast 
Some great revenge to match my injuries. 
(Yost: goes. Epwarp and Harorp > 
remainat table; Epi¥rHa in the fore-ground. 
Edw. Where is thy brother, Harold? Ina 
/ thy silence 
He surely did not read some lurking plot. 
H, The wolf is in our toilsewhe canmpr 
quit us, : 
But will returnere lonz. Another bowl——= 
Editha still remains : all else imports not. 
Edi. My father wishes me to take th 
life 5 
For ever to the aspect of the sun, 
That I should seal these eyes—behold mp 
more 
E’en the pale stars, or melancholy moon, 
Whose soothing gleam has often calm’d my 
_ breast, . 
When terrible forebodings rase within me. 
And shallI tread no more the flowery earth, 
Leaning on friendship’s arm ?—May I ne 
more 
Behold the face of kindred or of parents, 
Or clasp, yet once, those whom my sout 
f holds dear? 
Could I, my mother, breathe my l@st fare 
well 
Within thy arms, *twould be some comfort 
to me; i 
Some comfort, that thy hand should close 
my eyes, 
And to the grave consign thy daughter's 
corse. 
"Tis sweet to’ view the daylight, sweet te 
hear 
The voice of men. Silence and gloom appal 
us ‘ 
Eternal stillness, and eternal night, _ 
Dwell in the narrow grave: and I must meet 
them, 
©! this untimely death is bitter to me. 
How often, when the little Siegwin lay 
Upon my bosom, bath’d in peaceful slumber, 
My swelling heart would heave a tender 
sigh, 
And a tear trickle down upon his hand, 
Anticipating the delightful feelings 
Of a fond mother—They shall ne’er be mine. 
© Edward, whereforg does my inmost a? x 
Sti 
[June t,. 
Dowe——Have I liv’d to this ? -¥ 
x 
’ 
