Earl March

EARL MARCH looked on his dying child, And, smit with grief to view her— The youth, he cried, whom I exiled Shall be restored to woo her.

She’s at the window many an hour His coming to discover: And he looked up to Ellen’s bower And she looked on her lover—

But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwelling! And am I then forgot—forgot? It broke the heart of Ellen.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Her cheek is cold as ashes; Nor love’s own kiss shall wake those eyes To lift their silken lashes.

CHARLES LAMB 1775–1835

HESTER.

WHEN maidens such as Hester die, Their place ye may not well supply, Though ye among a thousand try With vain endeavour. A month or more hath she been dead, Yet cannot I by force be led To think upon the wormy bed And her together.

A springy motion in her gait, A rising step, did indicate Of pride and joy no common rate That flushed her spirit: I know not by what name beside I shall it call: if ’twas not pride, It was a joy to that allied She did inherit.

Her parents held the Quaker rule, Which doth the human feeling cool; But she was trained in Nature’s school, Nature had blest her. A waking eye, a prying mind, A heart that stirs, is hard to bind; A hawk’s keen sight ye cannot blind, Ye could not Hester.

My sprightly neighbour! gone before To that unknown and silent shore, Shall we not meet, as heretofore, Some summer morning— When from thy cheerful eyes a ray Hath struck a bliss upon the day, A bliss that would not go away, A sweet fore-warning?

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM 1784–1842