A Death-Scene

"O day! he cannot dieWhen thou so fair art shining!O Sun, in such a glorious sky,So tranquilly declining;

He cannot leave thee now,While fresh west winds are blowing,And all around his youthful browThy cheerful light is glowing!

Edward, awake, awake--The golden evening gleamsWarm and bright on Arden's lake--Arouse thee from thy dreams!

Beside thee, on my knee,My dearest friend, I prayThat thou, to cross the eternal sea,Wouldst yet one hour delay:

I hear its billows roar--I see them foaming high;But no glimpse of a further shoreHas blest my straining eye.

Believe not what they urgeOf Eden isles beyond;Turn back, from that tempestuous surge,To thy own native land.

It is not death, but painThat struggles in thy breast--Nay, rally, Edward, rouse again;I cannot let thee rest!"

One long look, that sore reproved meFor the woe I could not bear--One mute look of suffering moved meTo repent my useless prayer:

And, with sudden check, the heavingOf distraction passed away;Not a sign of further grievingStirred my soul that awful day.

Paled, at length, the sweet sun setting;Sunk to peace the twilight breeze:Summer dews fell softly, wettingGlen, and glade, and silent trees.

Then his eyes began to weary,Weighed beneath a mortal sleep;And their orbs grew strangely dreary,Clouded, even as they would weep.

But they wept not, but they changed not,Never moved, and never closed;Troubled still, and still they ranged not--Wandered not, nor yet reposed!

So I knew that he was dying--Stooped, and raised his languid head;Felt no breath, and heard no sighing,So I knew that he was dead.