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Ballad Round youthful Henry's restless bed His weeping friends and parents pressed; But she who raised his languid head He loved far more than all the rest. Fond mutual love their bosoms fired; And nearly dawned their bridal day, When every hope at once expired, For Henry on his death-bed lay. The fatal truth the sufferer read In weeping Lucy's downcast eye: "And must I, must I, then," he said, "Ere thou art mine, my Lucy, die! "No,…deign to grant my last, last prayer; 'T would soothe thy lover's parting breath, Wouldst thou with me to church repair, Ere yet I feel the stroke of death. "For trust me, love, I shall my life With something like to joy resign, If I but once may call thee wife, And, dying, claim and hail thee mine." He ceased: and Lucy checked the thought That he might at the altar die,…. The prayer with such true love was fraught, How could she such a prayer deny? They reached the church….her cheek was wan With chilling fears of coming woe…. But triumph when the rites began Lent Henry's cheek a flattering glow. The nuptial knot was scarcely tied, When Henry's eye strange lustre fired, "She's mine! she's mine!" he faltering cried, And in that throb of joy expired. Amelia Opie's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1222 |
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