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Soft blushes mantled on her cheek, And beam'd like heav'n her eyes of blue.
And in her mild and gentle heart Each softer virtue lov'd to dwellI've mark'd, when want or woe came by, That angel-breast with pity swell.
Nor e'er at fair Elfrida's door, The trembling beggar sued in vain;For still that gen'rous hand was prompt To soothe the wand'ring wretch's pain.
But now a cold and breathless corse In yonder grave Elfrida lies."———"Good Heav'n!" the starting stranger cried, With madness flashing from his eyes.
In vain the stranger strove to hide The pangs that in his bosom bleed;But soon he check'd the rising groan, And bade the wond'ring swain proceed.
"And didst thou know the hapless fair That sleeps in yonder lowly bed?Oh! then for her, the child of grief! Do thou the tear of pity shed.
Five years their annual course have run, Since first Rinaldo, noble youth,(Sir Edgar's brother), woo'd the maid, And vow'd eternal love and truth.
