That I was gallant Hubert's peer,

When his were honours, wealth, and gear.

No, stranger, wrong me not in thought,

Nor will old Edwy tell you aught,

That is in tittle less sincere,

Than this is crazy Hubert here.....

But my poor knees are weak and old,

Beneath the neighb'ring elm, 'twere meet,

To seek the cool sequester'd seat,

Where better may the tale be told.....

Hubert was once as dear to me,
As child, upon a father's knee;

For, many a long and tedious year,

Beyond the waters wild,

I serv'd his cruel sire, with fear,

And learn'd to love the child.

And, when to manly years he

came,

My love for Hubert was the same.

And, when, because he long withstood His father's will, nor gave his hand, Against his heart, for lady's land,

His cruel sire, in stubborn mood,

On hapless Hubert clos'd his door, And robb'd of all his hopes; be sure,

Old Edwy's heart could ill endure

Such cruel fate, but lov'd him more.

It was an heavy time indeed,

Such sad mishap to know;

For then his wretched heart did bleed,
For hapless Ellen's wo

And sorrow clouded o'er his brow,
And sad repentant tears did flow.

For, though he was as fair, and free,
And kind, as gallant youth could be,
In all beside, and ne'er delay'd

His hand, when pity claim'd his aid;
Yet, on his soul, a fatal blot

Is deeply dy'd, so dark a stain

Shall long, with Hubert's name, remain,

When wretched Ellen is forgot:

Recorded, in the page of Heaven,

Never, perhaps, to be forgiven.

Ah! wand'rer, it did strangely seem,

That all his senses wildly ran,

When tender maiden was his theme.

Then Hubert seem'd an alter'd man ;

Light was his mood, as morning dream. High his heart could beat, in pleasure, Careless of the tears of morrow;

Lightly could he seize the treasure,

Reckless of a maiden's sorrow.

And oft, upon the modest eye,

Hubert would bend his of blue,

eye

And talk of love, and seem so true,

In ev'ry word, in ev'ry sigh;

That simple maid could never dream,

That Hubert false would prove.

And, if, upon his features fair,

She look'd, for wily falsehood there, Such glance the maiden well might rue, On face, that beam'd so fair and true; Where ev'ry gentle look did seem

To tell, of naught but love.

For, though his bold and piercing eye,
And gallant form, and bearing high,
And haughty look, and dark'ning glance,
That stay'd half way the rude advance,
Made those, who knew him not, conclude,
That love was ne'er for Hubert's mood;
Yet none more suply bow'd the knee,
And none could heave more tender sigh,
And none more kindly glanc'd an eye,

On gentle lady fair, than he.

Then simple maid did sure believe,

That Hubert's smile could ne'er deceive; Till, in some sad and lone retreat,

With tears, and sighs, and wan despair, And all but love and Hubert there,

The wretch would seek sequester'd seat, And mourn, unheard, her sorrows o'er : Till tears, at length, would cease to flow, And sighs would yield to silent wo; And then, with fainting look and wild, Clasp to her breast her naked child, And close her eyes, to weep no more....

Time fast has flown, since Ellen smil❜d,
Where, in a vale, beside the wood,
Old Edgar's lonely cottage stood;

Poor, widow'd Mary's only child.

For Edgar never liv'd to know

Of Ellen's hapless doom

;

And, ere the days of Ellen's wo,