Osmond and Matilda, A Tale. WHERE Avon rolls his winding flood, Where Clifton's summits rise, Whose rich expanse of lawn and wood Delights our wondering eyes, Earl Raymond's castle once arose, The glory of the plain — Raymond, the terror of his foes, Of countless conquests vain. There young Matilda's beauty bloom'd Unenvied, unadmir'd, Who ne'er the pride of courts assum'd, Or life of courts desir'd. Her brother in these peaceful bowers Had left the lovely maid, To pass her solitary hours, While he far distant stray'd — Where Superstition's stern command Call'd all her sons to arms, And bore to Judah's distant land Destruction and alarms — Where pure Religion's injur'd name Induc'd each hostile lord, In her defence, to seek for fame, And wield the vengeful sword. While Raymond hop'd, by blood and war, To gain eternal bliss, Matilda, from dissensions far, Made sure of happiness, By gentlest manners, purest truth, By piety refin'd; For priestcraft ne'er misled her youth, Or sway'd her juster mind. She knew a dying Saviour bought Redemption by his blood: The hope which Mercy gave, she sought By mercy to make good. For she could injuries forgive, Could weep for fallen foes: Whate'er his faith, she could receive The stranger to repose. 'Mid Clifton's vales, her spotless life To contemplation given, Secure from public noise and strife, Her thoughts were fix'd on Heaven. Matilda, shall a breast like thine Feel Love's pernicious sway? Canst thou that holy calm resign, Through Passion's wilds to stray? Celestial Powers, unite to save Perfection like your own! O let not Love that heart enslave, Where Reason fix'd her throne! Ah, fruitless prayer! No pitying power Averts Matilda's woes: They rather urge the fateful hour, That robs her of repose! As near an ancient forest's bounds Matilda chanc'd to stray, The sprightly noise of horns and hounds Salutes the rising day. The virgin sees a glittering train With shouts attend the chase: So light their horses scour the plain, She scarce their steps can trace. One she beholds excel the rest In form and manly grace, Whose noble air, not splendid vest, Mark'd his distinguish'd race. While with delight Matilda view'd The stranger as he pass'd, While her pleas'd eyes his form pursu'd, And fear'd each look the last, She sees his horse no longer own Obedience to the rein: She sees the youthful hunter thrown Extended on the plain! Though Prudence with contracted mind Advis'd her to retreat, With Admiration Pity join'd, Urg'd on her rapid feet To where the lately festive crowd In tears surround their lord, And beat their breasts, and cry aloud, While none relief afford. Matilda with compassion view'd The stranger as he lay: Softer sensations soon ensu'd, And made her breast their prey. For Pity's unsuspected charm Has oft seduc'd a heart, Where brightest beauty could not warm, Nor wisdom love impart. "Can Sorrow's ineffectual tear," She cried, "to life restore? " While yet his spirit lingers here, "Celestial aid implore. "Nor yet supinely wait, that Heaven " A miracle may grant; "For seldom aid divine is given " When human effort's faint. "Imbosom'd in yon tow'ring wood " An ancient castle stands: "Earl Raymond there, the brave, the good, " Possess'd these happy lands. "But since from Britain's shore he's gone, " Through Asia's realms to stray, "These smiling lands I rule alone, " And all my power obey. "There men your dying master lead " With care along the plain; "For never did Misfortune plead " At Raymond's gate in vain. " The tear of gratitude sincere From every eye-lid falls: Their lord his sad attendants bear Within the castle's walls. There soon Matilda's tender care His banish'd sense restor'd: But who to thee, incautious fair, Shall now relief afford? For treacherous Passion every day Still deeper sunk the dart; And, while she thought 'twas Pity's sway, Love reign'd o'er all her heart. At length the fatal truth was known; The stranger own'd his flame: How great her joy! How quickly flown, At hearing Osmond's name! From her pale cheeks the roses fled, Tears trembled in her eye; Pensive she hung her beauteous head, While sigh succeeded sigh. "Osmond," she cried, "this love withstand; " To other maids incline: "Nor fondly hope Matilda's hand " Shall e'er be join'd with thine. "Between our race the deadly strife, " O Osmond! need I tell — "How by thy sire, in prime of life, " My hapless father fell? "And can I swear eternal love " Where Raymond vows revenge? "I might — but Raymond ne'er can prove, " In love or hate, a change. "Then cease to feed a fruitless flame " My heart must ne'er return; "Nor of that heart the coldness blame — " For thine 'twill ever mourn. " "O fatal accents," Osmond cries, "That blast my promis'd joys! " Say not, Matilda, that you prize "The heart your scorn destroys. "Yet, if nor Pity's voice, nor Love, " Can change my stern decree, "Still Piety, perhaps, may move " That breast to feel for me. "We're taught how much by Power divine " We need to be forgiven; "That, if to pardon we decline, " We lose our promis'd heaven. "Cold lies my father's honour'd clay: " With life resentment's fled: "Shall then Matilda's breast betray " Fix'd hatred for the dead? "His closing eyes wept Seward's fate: " Be then thy pardon won; "Nor in the crime he mourn'd too late " Involve his guiltless son. " When Passion courts the youthful ear, How weak is Reason's voice! Delusion to the heart how dear, When it confirms its choice! Matilda's passion was so strong, She wish'd to be deceiv'd; And every word from Osmond's tongue Was instantly believ'd. But still she hid her fatal flame, Still urg'd a father's death; When the sad news to Osmond came, That Edith's parting breath In dying accents call'd her son Her blessing to receive — And said, his presence could alone Take terror from the grave. His feeling heart in Edith's pain Entirely lost its own; Her sufferings rack each filial vein, And all the lover's flown. He press'd Matilda's trembling hands, And scarcely bid adieu: Speechless and pale Matilda stands, Till he's no more in view. Then wild through Clifton's tufted groves She calls on Osmond's name; Sighs to the gale their hapless loves — Those sighs but fan the flame. "No more," she cries, "shall I behold " His eyes serenely gay! "No more his hand my hand shall hold, " As through these vales I stray! "Osmond, return, my mind from pride " And prejudice is free: "Though by thy father Seward died, " Matilda lives for thee. "In pity come, my peace restore, " For thee alone I prize: "Fruitless entreaties! never more " Shall Osmond bless these eyes! " Twelve times had Cynthia's silver beam Illumin'd Clifton's height; Twelve times had shed on Avon's stream Its inoffensive light: Still victim of a hopeless fire, Matilda pin'd away; The roses from her cheeks retire, Her health, her charms decay. Her heavy eyes, with fruitless care, Still turn'd towards the place, Where, fill'd with anguish and despair, She last saw Osmond's face. At length, upon the opening plain, Advancing from afar, She sees a weary, pallid train, Sad relics of the war. High o'er the rest, his towering form, His firm intrepid air, That seem'd to brave Misfortune's storm, Announc'd her brother near. Through dark affliction's chilling cloud A ray of pleasure warms: "Raymond's return'd!" she cries aloud, And hastes into his arms. "Say, dearest brother, only friend! " Shall Glory's voice no more "Call thee in wars thy youth to spend, " Far from thy native shore? "Ah! trust not Glory's dangerous charms, " Who smiles but to betray; "But, free from tumults and alarms, " Enjoy life's fleeting day. " "Belov'd Matilda, never more " I'll tempt th' inconstant wave; "No longer quit my native shore, " Or dearer sister leave. "For her shall Friendship's milder joys " Exert their winning power, "Whilst Hymen's more endearing ties " Shall gild her latest hour. — " "No, Raymond, never shall my tongue " Pronounce the solemn vow; "Nor e'er, the sacred rites among, " At Hymen's shrine I'll bow. "From worldly joy, from worldly care, " Still may my mind be free! "Still every hour, that Heaven can spare, " May I devote to thee! " "A virtuous passion's spotless flame " Heaven ne'er can disapprove: "Your hand I've promis'd, and I claim " As token of your love. "When near Britannia's rocky shore " Wild rag'd the bursting storm, "Loud o'er the deck the billows roar, " While clouds the skies deform. "In vain the pilot's trembling hand " Attempts the stern to guide, "To turn us from the dangerous land, " And tempt once more the tide. "The winds blew high, the surges swell'd, " Our masts, our cordage lost; "The shatter'd ship's at length impell'd " On Devon's hilly coast. "Scarce twenty of my faithful train " Escape the dangerous wave; "The rest tir'd, struggling on the main, " Find there a watery grave. "With pain we climb the steepy height, " And reach a level mead, "When o'er the earth the dewy night " Had cast her sable shade. "Beneath a lime-tree's sheltering arms " Our weary limbs we lay; "And hop'd secure from all alarms, " To wait the approach of day. "But vain our hopes; for, when calm rest " Had seal'd each heavy eye, "And lull'd to peace each anxious breast, " A cruel band drew nigh. "They seiz'd our arms, they bound our hands, " Whilst fearless all repos'd; "And soon in everlasting bands " Of sleep our eyes had clos'd, "Had not, by Mercy's high decree, " A stranger pass'd that way, "Endu'd with force to set us free, " And all our foes to slay. "My stubborn soul, which ne'er to power " Or sordid riches bow'd, "With humblest gratitude that hour " Its lavish thanks bestow'd. "Those thanks repeated o'er and o'er, " My lineage I declar'd, "And ask'd if Raymond's boundless store " Such service could reward. "A crimson blush at Raymond's name " The stranger's cheeks o'erspread, "And from his agitated frame " Its wonted vigour fled. "Raymond," he cried, with faltering voice, "Thy riches I resign: " If in vain wealth I could rejoice, "Unnumber'd wealth is mine. "But all the wealth the sordid prize, " Or power the vain desire, "My towering wishes can despise, " And higher far aspire. "If to my pure, unsullied flame " You would Matilda grant, "No other riches shall I claim, " No greater treasure want. " "Pleas'd with the ardent, generous love, " Which, scorning meaner views, "Matilda only could approve, " Matilda only choose — "I promis'd, cre to-morrow's sun " Shall gild the evening tide, "Thou shouldst, by my entreaties won, " Consent to be his bride. "And cold indeed must be thy heart, " And blind must be thine eye, "Whene'er he shall his suit impart, " Couldst thou that suit deny. "Then drive, Matilda, from thy brow " Each vestige of despair; "A brother's wish, a lover's vow, " To crown at once prepare. " To Raymond's harsh commands the maid Nor sigh nor tear return'd; But, sorrowing, low she bow'd her head, And silently she mourn'd. Now Cynthia o'er the azure sky Her starry mantle throws; Around the world light visions fly, To soften human woes. But no delusive, flattering dream, Which grants a short relief, Led by soft slumber, kindly came To sooth Matilda's grief. Supinely on her couch reclin'd, Prest by a weight of care, No more her weak, distemper'd mind Could comfort find in prayer. Affection, Duty, strongly plead Her constant heart to move: Firm in their cause that heart can bleed, But cannot cease to love. Now in the east with blushing pride The purple morning rose, And Health, with Labour by her side, Starts from a light repose. Matilda from her chamber hies, All spiritless and weak; Despair sits lowering in her eyes, And sickens on her cheek. The mead and garden's rich perfume No more her steps delay, But through the forest's awful gloom She bends her devious way. There, as immers'd in grief profound Through pathless wilds she treads, The deadly nightshade all around Its baneful berries spreads. The fatal plant Matilda view'd, Then touch'd with trembling hand; And Faith with Reason now subdued, Left Grief entire command. Now her pale lips the berries stain, Which eagerly she rends; And now through every freezing vein Their poisonous juice descends. Raymond, who long with fruitless haste Sought the devoted fair, Now sees her in the desert waste, Reclin'd with pensive air. "Matilda, why this long delay? " Why these dejected eyes? "Why this disorder'd, loose array? " Thy lover waits, "he cries. "Raymond, I haste," the maid replied, "Thy promise to fulfil, " And follow wheresoe'er you guide, "Obedient to your will." Now from the solitary wood With rapid steps they turn'd, To where an ancient chapel stood, Where Seward lay inurn'd. Before the venerable pile, With reverential fear And beating breasts, they paus'd awhile, And shed a filial tear. Now entering with averted eyes, This hated lord to meet, Matilda sees with wild surprise Her Osmond at her feet. Just then the poison's subtle power Invades its trembling prey; She sinks upon the marble floor, Cold as her kindred clay. Osmond, with anguish and affright, Bends o'er the dying maid, And sees from all mat charm'd his sight The living lustre fade. "Matilda, 'tis thy Osmond calls, " O bless him with a smile; "With one kind look, ere yet he falls, " His misery beguile. " At his lov'd name she op'd her eyes, And rais'd her languid head; "Osmond, dear youth!" she faintly cries, "I hasten to the dead. "A poison on my vitals preys, " And withers all my bloom; "The rapid flood of life delays, " And calls me to the tomb. "Yet, Osmond, though we soon must part — " From other contracts free, "To the last gasp this lingering heart " Shall fondly dwell with thee. " More had she said, but envious Death Assum'd his iron sway: Faint, and more faint, her struggling breath Entirely dies away. Whilst Raymond, fill'd with vain remorse, To view his victim fears, Osmond bedews her senseless corse With unavailing tears. He cries, "Belov'd Matilda, wait, " Nor yet thy Osmond leave — "Who hastens to partake thy fate, " And join thee in the grave. "Now, Edith, to thy hapless son " Those mournful duties give, "You hop'd, when life's sad race was run, " From him you might receive. "May piety thy woes assuage! " Nor let my early doom "Depress thy weak, declining age " Untimely to the tomb! " While duty and afffection warm Thus his last thoughts inspir'd, He press'd Matilda's lifeless form, And, bow'd by grief, expir'd.