His languid eyes he meekly rais’d,
  Which seem’d for ever clos’d;
On the pale youth with pity gaz’d,
  And then in death repos’d.

“I’ll go, the hapless Edwin said,
  “And breathe a last adieu! 
“And with the drops despair will shed,
  “My mournful love bedew.

“I’ll go to her for ever dear,
  “To catch her melting sigh,
“To wipe from her pale cheek the tear,
  “And at her feet to die.”—­

And as to her for ever dear
  The frantic mourner flew,
To wipe from her pale cheek the tear,
  And breathe a last adieu;

Appall’d his troubled fancy sees
  Eltruda’s anguish flow;
And hears in every passing breeze,
  The plaintive sound of woe.

Meanwhile the anxious maid, whose tears
  In vain would heav’n implore;
Of Albert’s fate despairing hears,
  But yet had heard no more.

She saw her much-lov’d Edwin near,
  She saw, and deeply sigh’d;
Her cheek was bath’d in many a tear;
  At length she faintly cried;

“Unceasing grief this heart must prove,
  “Its dearest ties are broke;—­
“Oh, say, what ruthless arm, my love,
  “Could aim the fatal stroke?

“Could not thy hand, my Edwin, thine,
  “Have warded off the blow? 
“For oh, he was not only mine,
  “He was thy father too!”

No more the youth could pangs endure
  His lips could never tell;
From death he vainly hop’d a cure,
  As cold, on earth he fell.

She flew, she gave her sorrows vent,
  A thousand tears she pour’d;
Her mournful voice, her moving plaint,
  The youth to life restor’d.

“Why does thy bosom throb with pain
  “She cried, my Edwin, speak;
“Or sure, unable to sustain
  “This grief, my heart will break.

“Yes, it will break—­he fault’ring cried,
  “For me will life resign—­
“Then trembling know thy father died—­
  “And know the guilt was mine!”

“It is enough,” with short, quick breath,
  Exclaim’d the fainting maid;
She spoke no more, but seem’d from death
  To look for instant aid.

In plaintive accents, Edwin cries,
  “And have I murder’d thee? 
“To other worlds thy spirit flies,
  “And mine this stroke shall free.”

His hand the lifted weapon grasp’d,
  The steel he firmly prest: 
When wildly she arose, and clasp’d
  Her lover to her breast.

“Methought, she cried with panting breath,
  “My Edwin talk’d of peace;
“I knew ’twas only found in death,
  “And fear’d that sad release.

“I clasp him still! ’twas but a dream—­
  “Help yon wide wound to close,
“From which a father’s spirits stream,
  “A father’s life-blood flows.

“But see, from thee he shrinks, nor would
  “Be blasted by thy touch;—­
“Ah, tho’ my Edwin spilt thy blood,
  “Yet once he lov’d thee much.