Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882). Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry. 1880.
The Boy of EgremondWilliam Wordsworth (17701850)
“What is good for a bootless bené?”
With these dark words begins my tale;
And their meaning is, “Whence can comfort spring,
When prayer is of no avail?”
The falconer to the lady said;
And she made answer, “Endless sorrow!”
For she knew that her son was dead.
And from the look of the falconer’s eye;
And from the love which was in her soul
For her youthful Romilly.
Is ranging high and low;
And holds a greyhound in a leash,
To let slip up on buck or doe.
How tempting to bestride!
For lordly Wharf is there pent in
With rocks on either side.
A name which it took of yore:
A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall, a thousand more.
And what may now forbid
That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,
Shall bound across “the Strid”?
That the river was strong, and the rocks were steep!
—But the greyhound in the leash hung back,
And checked him in his leap.
And strangled by a merciless force;
For never more was young Romilly seen
Till he rose a lifeless corse.
And long unspeaking sorrow:
Wharf shall be, to pitying hearts,
A name more sad than Yarrow.
A solace she might borrow
From death, and from the passion of death;
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.
Which was to be to-morrow:
Her hope was a farther-looking hope,
And hers is a mother’s sorrow.
And proudly did its branches wave:
And the root of this delightful tree
Was in her husband’s grave!
And her first words were, “Let there be
In Bolton, on the field of Wharf,
A stately Priory!”
And Wharf, as he moved along,
To matins joined a mournful voice,
Nor failed at evensong.
That looked not for relief!
But slowly did her succor come,
And a patience to her grief.
That shall lack a timely end,
If but to God we turn and ask
Of Him to be our friend!