Yet feels the captive Briton’s woe;
  For his ennobled mind,
Forgets the name of Britain’s foe,
  In love of human kind.

Yet know, my child, a dearer tie
  Has link’d his heart to mine;
He mourns with Friendship’s holy sigh,
  The youth belov’d of thine!

But hark! his welcome feet are near—­
  Thy rising grief suppress—­
By darkness veil’d, he hastens here
  To comfort, and to bless.”—­

“Stranger! for that dear father’s sake
  She cry’d, in accents mild,
Who lives by thy kind pity, take
  The blessings of his child!

Oh, if in heaven, my Edward’s breast
  This deed of mercy knew,
That gives my tortur’d bosom rest,
  He sure would bless thee too!

Oh tell me where my lover fell! 
  The fatal scene recall,
His last, dear accents, stranger, tell,
  Oh haste and tell me all!

Say, if he gave to love the sigh,
 That set his spirit free;
Say, did he raise his closing eye,
  As if it sought for me.”

“Ask not, her father cry’d, to know
  What known were added pain;
Nor think, my child, the tale of woe
  Thy softness can sustain.”

“Tho’ every joy with Edward fled,
  When Edward’s friend is near,
It sooths my breaking heart, she said,
  To tell those joys were dear.

The western ocean roll’d in vain
  Its parting waves between,
My Edward brav’d the dang’rous main,
  And bless’d our native scene.

Soft Isis heard his artless tale,
  Ah, stream for ever dear! 
Whose waters, as they pass’d the vale,
  Receiv’d a lover’s tear.

How could a heart, that virtue lov’d,
  (And sure that heart is mine)
Lamented youth! behold unmov’d,
  The virtues that were thine?

Calm, as the surface of the lake,
  When all the winds are still,
Mild, as the beams of morning break,
  When first they light the hill;

So calm was his unruffled soul,
  Where no rude passion strove;
So mild his soothing accents stole,
  Upon the ear of love.

Where are the dear illusions fled
  Which sooth’d my former hours? 
Where is the path that fancy spread,
  Ah, vainly spread with flowers!

I heard the battle’s fearful sounds,
  They seem’d my lover’s knell—­
I heard, that pierc’d with ghastly wounds,
  My vent’rous lover fell!—­

My sorrows shall with life endure,
  For he I lov’d is gone;
But something tells my heart, that sure
 My life will not be long.”—­

“My panting soul can bear no more,
  The youth, impatient cried,
’Tis Edward bids thy griefs be o’er,
  My love! my destin’d bride!

The life which heav’n preserv’d, how blest,
  How fondly priz’d by me,
Since dear to my Amelia’s breast,
  Since valued still by thee!

My father saw my constant pain,
  When thee I left behind,
Nor longer will his power restrain,
  The ties my soul would bind.