William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909.
Lord WilliamRobert Southey (1774–1843)
N
Young Edmund in the stream,
No human ear but William’s heard
Young Edmund’s drowning scream.
The murderer for their lord,
And he, as rightful heir, possess’d
The house of Erlingford.
Stood in a fair domain,
And Severn’s ample waters near
Roll’d through the fertile plain;
Would love to linger there,
Forgetful of his onward road,
To gaze on scenes so fair.
To gaze on Severn’s stream;
In every wind that swept its waves
He heard young Edmund scream!
Sleep closed the murderer’s eyes,
In every dream the murderer saw
Young Edmund’s form arise:
Lord William left his home,
Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,
In pilgrimage to roam.
But could not fly despair;
He sought his home again, but peace
Was still a stranger there.
The months appeared to roll;
And now the day return’d that shook
With terror William’s soul;—
Return without dismay,
For well had conscience calendar’d
Young Edmund’s dying day.
Fell fast with tempest roar,
And the swoln tide of Severn spread
Far on the level shore.
In vain he quaff’d the bowl,
And strove with noisy mirth to drown
The anguish of his soul;—
In gusty howlings came,
With cold and death-like feelings seem’d
To thrill his shuddering frame.
His lonely couch he prest;
And, wearied out, he sunk to sleep,—
To sleep—but not to rest.
Lord Edmund, seem’d to stand,
Such, and so pale, as when in death
He grasp’d his brother’s hand;
With faint and faltering tongue,
To William’s care, a dying charge,
He left his orphan son.
My orphan Edmund guard;—
Well, William, hast thou kept thy charge!
Now take thy due reward.’
With agonizing fear;
He only heard the storm of night,—
’Twas music to his ear!
His inmost soul appals;
‘What ho! Lord William, rise in haste!
The water saps thy walls!’
He saw the flood appear;
It hemm’d him round,—’twas midnight now,
No human aid was near.
A boat approach’d the wall,
And eager to the welcome aid
They crowd for safety all.
‘’Twill bear but one away;
Come in, Lord William, and do ye
In God’s protection stay.’
Even in that hour of woe,
That, save their lord, there was not one
Who wished with him to go.
His terror was so sore;
‘Thou shalt have half my gold,’ he cried,
‘Haste!—haste to yonder shore!’
Went light along the stream;
Sudden Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund’s drowning scream!
A child’s distressful cry!’
‘’Twas but the howling wind of night,’
Lord William made reply.
Haste!—haste across the stream!’
Again Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund’s drowning scream!
The boatman cried again.
‘Nay, hasten on!—the night is dark—
And we should search in vain!’
How dreadful ’tis to die?
And canst thou without pity hear
A child’s expiring cry?
Beneath the closing stream,
To stretch the powerless arms in vain,
In vain for help to scream!’
More deep, more piercing loud;
That instant o’er the flood the moon
Shone through a broken cloud;
Upon a crag he stood,
A little crag, and all around
Was spread the rising flood.
Approach’d his resting-place;
The moon-beam shone upon the child,
And show’d how pale his face.
‘Lord William, reach and save!’
The child stretch’d forth his little hands
To grasp the hand he gave!
Were cold, and damp, and dead!
He held young Edmund in his arms
A heavier weight than lead!
Beneath the avenging stream;
He rose, he shriek’d, no human ear
Heard William’s drowning scream!