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Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826/Gertrude

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For other versions of this work, see Gertrude.

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 16, Pages 469-470


RECORDS OF WOMAN.—NO. VII.

Gertrude.*[1]

The Baron Von der Wart, accused, though it is believed unjustly, as an accomplice in the assassination of the Emperor Albert, was bound alive on the wheel, and attended by his wife Gertrude, throughout his last agonizing moments, with the most heroic fidelity. Her own sufferings, and those of her unfortunate husband, are most affectingly described in a letter which she afterwards addressed to a female friend, and which was published some years ago at Haarlem, in a book entitled "Gertrude Von der Wart, or Fidelity unto death."

Her hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes raised,
    The breeze threw back her hair;
Up to the fearful wheel she gazed,
    All that she loved was there.
The night was round her clear and cold,
    The holy heaven above;
Its pale stars watching to behold
    The night of earthly love.

"And bid me not depart," she cried,
    "My Rudolph! say not so!
This is no time to quit thy side,
    Peace, peace! I cannot go.
Hath the world aught for me to fear
    When death is on thy brow?
The world!—what means it?—mine is here
    I will not leave thee now!

"I have been with thee in thine hour
    Of glory and of bliss,
Doubt not its memory's living power
    To strengthen me through this!
And thou, mine honour'd love and true,
    Bear on, bear nobly on!
We have the blessed Heaven in view,
    Whose rest shall soon be won."—

And were not these high words to flow
    From Woman's breaking heart?
—Through all that night of bitterest woe
    She bore her lofty part:
But oh! with such a freezing eye,
    With such a curdling cheek—
—Love, love! of mortal agony,
    Thou, only thou, shouldst speak!

The winds rose high—but with them rose
    Her voice, that he might hear;—
Perchance that dark hour brought repose
    To happy bosoms near:
While she sat striving with despair
    Beside his tortured form,
And pouring her deep soul in prayer
    Forth on the rushing storm.


She wiped the death-damps from his brow,
    With her pale hands and soft,
Whose touch, upon the lute chords low,
    Had still'd his heart so oft.
She spread her mantle o'er his breast,
    She bathed his lips with dew,
And on his cheek such kisses press'd,
    As Joy and Hope ne'er knew.

Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith,
    Enduring to the last!
She had her meed—one smile in Death—
    And his worn spirit pass'd.
While even as o'er a martyr's grave,
    She knelt on that sad spot,
And weeping, bless'd the God who gave
    Strength to forsake it not!F. H.


  1. * The author was not aware, at the time this little poem was written, that the courage and affection of Gertrude Von der Wart had previously been celebrated by another writer in a yet unpublished poem.