Poems (Campbell)/The Maniac
For works with similar titles, see The Maniac.
THE MANIAC.
"Say, pensive fair one, whither bound?Whose jetty locks, with cypress crown'd,Throw round thy face a mournful gloom,That ill-befits thy rosy bloom."
"Dost thou not know," the maid reply'd,"How Lewis bled—how Lewis died—And in the silent grave was laid,And sleeps beneath the cypress shade?
Stretch'd on the green-wood's verdant breastHis gentle form is laid at rest;And far above yon azure skies,On angel-wing his spirit flies.
No smile shall on my cheek appear:—But hark! my lover's voice I hear—'Oh! come Eudora! come away;'Tis Lewis chides thy ling'ring stay:
The silence of the grave is bless'd,Where all our cares and wand'rings rest:Oh! come Eudora—haste away,'—I come, I come—sweet spirit! stay!"
She said; and where yon grey oaks spreadTheir leafy shade she bow'd her head,And, sinking on the green earth, sigh'dHer murder'd lover's name, and died!