Alisia. a Ballad

To yon dark grove Alisia flew, Just at th' appointed hour; To meet the youth whose bosom true, Confess'd her beauty's pow'r.

All that fair beauty cou'd bestow, Or fairer virtue give, Did on his face unrival'd glow, And in his bosom live.

But not the charm of beauty's flow'r, Or virtue's fairer charm; Cou'd in her father's soul the pow'r Of Avarice disarm.

He bad the youth his mansion fly, And scorn'd his ardent vow: And when the tears flow'd from his eye, He bad them faster flow.

Alisia with a bleeding mind, Beheld the injur'd youth: And vow'd, in holy wedlock join'd, To crown at length his truth.

As she forsook her native seat, 'Farewell ye fields so fair; 'May blessings still my Father meet! 'She said—and dropt a tear.

Th' oppression of a parent's hand, A parent dead to shame: In her meek breast by virtue fan'd, Ne'er quench'd the filial flame.

Now safe she reach'd th' appointed ground, Tho' love was all her guide; But absent when the youth she found, She look'd around and sigh'd.

Each breeze that rustled o'er the tree, Sooth'd for a space her smart; She fondly cried—Oh that is he! While patted fast her heart.

The pleasing images of hope, Night's terrors now deform: While on her mind drear sceneries ope, And raise the mental storm.

On some rude stone she bow'd her head, All helpless and forlorn; Now starting from her rugged bed, She wish'd the ling'ring morn.

With heavy heart I now unfold, What th' absent youth befell; Who fierce beset by ruffians bold, Oppress'd with numbers fell:

At length the morn disclos'd its ray, And calm'd Alisia's fear; She restless took her various way, (Distracted) here and there.

Thus as she wander'd, wretched maid, To mis'ry doom'd! she found A naked corse along the shade, And gash'd with many a wound.

Struck to the soul at this dread scene, All motionless she stood! To view the raven bird obscene, Drink up the clotting blood.

What horrors did her breast invade, When as she nearer drew? The features that the raven fed, Her lover gave to view.

With shrieks she rent th' affrighted air! To tears had fond recourse; With frantic hand now tore her hair, Now sunk upon the corse.

Then throwing round a troubled glance, With madness' ray inflam'd: Beheld some travellers advance, To whom she thus exclaim'd.

'Ye base inhuman train, away! 'What urg'd yon to this deed? 'You've turn'd my gentle love to clay, 'And bad me sorrow wed.

'Hark, hark! the raven flaps her wings— 'She drinks his blood again— 'Ah I now she feeds on my heart-strings— 'Oh Jesu! soothe my pain.

This scene of woe what cou'd create, The travellers admir'd; While shrinking at the blow of fate, She with a groan expir'd.