Albert and Cecilia, a Norman Tale. Founded on Fact. A FAIRER form than fiction ever feign'd; A bloom surpassing far the opening rose; Eyes where with softness animation reign'd; A heart that sympathiz'd in others' woes: Such was Cecilia — ere a father's pride Clouded the noon-tide of a morn so bright; Condemn'd each feeling nature sanctified, And clos'd each beauty in eternal night. The haughty Anselm, of his riches vain — Vain of his ancestry and high estate — View'd unassuming merit with disdain, Or thought it only centred in the Great, Each day, to win the young Cecilia's smiles, The neighb'ring barons to his castle throng, And boast their ancient sires, whose warlike toils Still crown the historian's page, and poet's song. But vain the boast of each contending peer — Vainly to win Cecilia's smiles they try; No voice but Albert's gains her pensive ear — No form but Albert's charms her down-cast eye. Oft she forsakes her father's splendid halls, And hastes impatient to the waving shade; Where Albert, while the tear of pity falls, Unfolds his hopeless passion to the maid. No sounding title favour'd Albert's claim; Fortune to him her gifts did ne'er impart: But kinder Nature gave the loveliest frame, And gave (much more) the most unblemish'd heart. What hours of happiness the lovers prov'd While in soft converse pass'd the livelong day; While each confess'd how ardently they lov'd, And vow'd no time their passion should allay! O Sensibility! how truly blest Is the fond mind in thy sensations lost! More dear the pang that rends the feeling breast, Than all that calm, dull apathy can boast. Long did Cecilia nurse the rising flame, And Albert's tender vows in secret hear; Nor yet had envy, or censorious fame, Divulg'd the tale to Anselm's watchful ear. When, as mild Evening o'er the varying sky Dispers'd rich clouds of gold and purple hue; And panting flocks along the meadows lie, Cool'd by the freshness of the falling dew — With cautious steps Cecilia sought the bower, Whose shade encircled all her soul held dear; While anxious Albert counts the tedious hour, Now cheer'd by hope, and now deprest by fear: But, when he saw his lov'd Cecilia nigh, Each gloomy care forsook his boding breast; And gay delight beam'd sparkling from his eye, Blest in her presence, in her kindness blest. The heart's emotions in each face appear; The glow of transport brightens on each cheek — The glance of joy, the sympathetic tear, More than a thousand words, their passion speak. The youth enraptur'd kneeling thank'd the maid; Then both renew'd their vows of endless love: Unhappy pair! your passion is betray'd — Fatal to both those vows must shortly prove: For, as it chanc'd, in that ill-fated hour Near the green arbour Anselm musing pass'd; Heard their discourse, and, entering in the bower, The trembling lovers sunk confus'd, aghast! "Degenerate girl!" the angry father cried, "Who thus canst stoop to this ignoble choice; " And dare to wound a Norman baron's pride, "Unmov'd by Duty's ties, or Honour's voice! "No more I own thee as my fortune's heir; " Thy boasted charms to me no joys impart: "For, shock'd by thy ingratitude, I tear " Parental fondness from this injur'd heart. "And thou, presuming youth! who durst aspire " Proudly to join thy humble name with mine, "Take the detested object you desire — — " Thy lov'd Cecilia shall be ever thine, "If to the summit of yon verdant hill, " Whose lofty brow o'erlooks this ample plain, "You bear the maid; nor rest a moment, till " Ev'n to the top thy venturous steps attain. " What mighty task will daring love refuse, The object of its fond pursuits to gain? Who in delusion's flattering mirror views And grasps at shadows it can ne'er obtain. The youth undaunted clasps the trembling fair, Nor thinks the dangerous trial to decline: "This happy hour," he cries, "ends all my care, " And makes thee, dear Cecilia! ever mine. " With eager haste he pass'd the level green, And rapidly he climbs the steep ascent; While numerous vassals throng'd to view the scene, And prayers to Heaven for their deliverance sent. Sadly prophetic of impending woe, Cecilia's bosom heav'd with many a sigh; And, while the tears of bitter anguish flow, She fix'd on Albert an attentive eye. "Alas!" she cried, and half suppress'd a tear, "Yon fatal summit distant still I view." "Chase, my Cecilia!" he replied, "each fear; " Love shall his votary with new strength endue. " But Albert now no longer can conceal His vigour lost: he climbs the hill with pain; His fainting limbs a death-like languor feel, And scarce his arms their lovely load sustain. "Speak, my Cecilia! tell me that you love; " Your voice can energetic force impart: "Smile, and your lover shall triumphant prove." She forc'd a smile, and press'd him to her heart. Mute the spectators stand with anxious fear: When Albert falters every cheek turns pale; And smiles of gladness on each face appear When love still strives where human efforts fail. At length their hearts with generous transports thrill, Shouts of applause from every side arise: Albert has gain'd the summit of the hill, And breathless falls beneath his lovely prize. Cecilia's circling arms around him thrown, Her eyes behold him with exulting pride: She cries, "My Albert, I am thine alone; " No human force can now our fates divide. " His clay-cold hand with fervency she press'd, She gaz'd enamour'd on his faded cheek; "Say, dost thou love like me, like me art blest? " Confirm my happiness — O Albert, speak! " At length, essay'd in vain each tender care Her lover's slumbering senses to restore, By disappointment pierc'd and chill despair, She sunk, and cried — "My Albert is no more!" The fatal accents reach'd the listening crowd, Sorrowing the mournful tidings they relate; "Albert is dead!" they weeping cry aloud — "Albert, whose worth deserv'd a better fate. "May curses light on that unfeeling heart " Which could the blossom of thy youth destroy! "No comfort may his boasted wealth impart, " But keen repentance blast each rising joy! " Such were the words that with discordant sound Whisper'd remorse to Anselm's wounded ear: He felt their force; he heav'd a sigh profound, And pitying dropp'd too late a fruitless tear. With hasty steps he seeks the fatal height, Anxious his yet-lov'd daughter's life to save; That injur'd daughter, once his sole delight, Now by himself devoted to the grave. Mean time, awaken'd by Cecilia's tears, And the sad accent of her piercing cries, His languid head the fainting Albert rears, While Death's dim shadows darken o'er his eyes. "'Tis past, Cecilia! soon approaching Death " Shall steal thy form for ever from my view: "Soon, soon shall I resign this mortal breath, " And, dearer far than life, bid thee adieu. "O grant thy dying Albert's last request: " Be our sad fate engrav'd upon my stone; "That, when the grave at length shall yield me rest, " Our love may be to future ages known! "And thou, dear source of all my grief and joy! " Ne'er let my image from thy thought depart: "When mouldering time shall this weak frame destroy, " Still let me live in my Cecilia's heart! " Faint the last accents falter'd on his tongue; Heavy and dim his closing eyeballs roll; Angels of death around his spirit hung, And opening heaven receiv'd his parting soul. Anselm just then, with pausing steps and slow, Had climb'd the hill, and reach'd its airy brow; Cold round his breast the rustling breezes blow, While birds of night sing plaintive from each bough. Imprest with secret horror, low he bends O'er the sad spot where poor Cecilia lay; Around her form his trembling arms extends, With unknown pity fill'd and deep dismay. He feels her hand has lost its vital heat; He sees her balmy lips no more are red; He finds her icy breast no longer beat; His only child, his dear Cecilia's dead. The wretched father rais'd his eyes to Heaven, In which alone repenting sin can trust; Bewail'd his error, pray'd to be forgiven, And own'd in all his ways the Almighty just. Like lilies cropt by an untimely storm, Fair even in death the hapless lovers lay; Love still appear'd to animate each form, And o'er each visage shed a brightening ray. To both one common tomb the father gave; And, to preserve them in immortal fame, He rais'd a chapel o'er the sacred grave, Which still of the Two Lovers bears the name.