A fearful day was that; the rains

Fell fast with tempest roar,

And the swoln tide of Severn spread
Far on the level shore.

In vain Lord William sought the feast, In vain he quaff'd the bowl,

And strove with noisy mirth to drown The anguish of his soul.

The tempest, as its sudden swell
In gusty howlings came,

With cold and death-like feeling seem'd
To thrill his shuddering frame.

Reluctant now, as night came on,
His lonely couch he prest;
And, wearied out, he sunk to sleep, . .
To sleep.. but not to rest.

Beside that couch his brother's form,
Lord Edmund seem'd to stand,
Such and so pale as when in death
He grasp'd his brother's hand;

Such and so pale his face as when
With faint and faltering tongue,
To William's care, a dying charge,
He left his orphan son.

"I bade thee with a father's love

My orphan Edmund guard; ..

Well, William, hast thou kept thy charge! Take now thy due reward."

He started up, each limb convulsed

With agonizing fear;

He only heard the storm of night,

'T was music to his ear.

When lo! the voice of loud alarm
His inmost soul appals;

"What ho! Lord William, rise in haste! The water saps thy walls!"

He rose in haste, beneath the walls
He saw the flood appear;

It hemm'd him round, 't was midnight now,
No human aid was near.

He heard a shout of joy, for now

A boat approach'd the wall, And eager to the welcome aid They crowd for safety all.

"My boat is small," the boatman cried, "'T will bear but one away;

Come in, Lord William, and do ye

In God's protection stay."

Strange feeling fill'd them at his voice,
Even in that hour of woe,

That, save their Lord, there was not one
Who wish'd with him to go.

But William leapt into the boat,

His terror was so sore;

"Thou shalt have half my gold," he cried, "Haste.. haste to yonder shore."

The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Went light along the stream;
Sudden Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.

The boatman paused, "Methought I heard
A child's distressful cry!"

""T was but the howling wind of night,"
Lord William made reply.

"Haste.. haste.. ply swift and strong the oar; "Haste.. haste across the stream!"

Again Lord William heard a cry

Like Edmund's drowning scream.

"I heard a child's distressful voice," The boatman cried again.

66

Nay, hasten on . . the night is dark . .
And we should search in vain."

“O God! Lord William, dost thou know

How dreadful 't is to die?

And canst thou without pity hear
A child's expiring cry?

"How horrible it is to sink

Beneath the closing stream,
To stretch the powerless arms in vain,
In vain for help to scream!"

The shriek again was heard: it came
More deep, more piercing loud;
That instant o'er the flood the moon
Shone through a broken cloud;

And near them they beheld a child;
Upon a crag he stood,

A little crag, and all around

Was spread the rising flood.

The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Approach'd his resting-place;
The moon-beam shone upon the child,

And show'd how pale his face.

"Now reach thine hand!" the boatman cried, "Lord William, reach and save!"

The child stretch'd forth his little hands

To grasp the hand he gave.

Then William shriek'd; the hands he felt
Were cold and damp and dead!
He held young Edmund in his arms
A heavier weight than lead.

The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk
Beneath the avenging stream;
He rose, he shriek'd, no human ear
Heard William's drowning scream.

Westbury, 1798.