Classic Poem

The west wind, gusting boldly,
From Cadeby's falls sent far
The roar of Don and Dar,
Flooding with watery howl and groan,
Their wild abyss of riven stone.
After a day of rain,
The setting sun shone coldly,
Like one who smiles in pain,
O'er woods that seem'd to floor the sky
With ocean-like profundity;
And on the lake's dark grey and blue
The oaken towers of Konig threw
A red and shatter'd glare.
'Twas then, that, in despair,
A woman young and fair
Pac'd the black water's eastern shore,
And on her woful bosom bore
Her child, asleep.
She could not weep;
The " countless laughter " of the lake,
Like mockery on her senses brake,
Because her heart was broken.
She would have spoken
Her deathful thought,
But in her throat
The strangled utterance died.
She knew not that she tried in vain,
With trembling lips, to speak her pain;
Nor knew that, screen'd by willows grey,
Beneath her, in its little bay,
Sat giant Adwick in his boat,
With lifted oars — prepar'd to pay
A visit long delay'd.
In silent pray'r, she pray'd;
Then, looking, wildly looking
On Konig's tower — nor longer brooking
His cruelty and pride —
Sprang over boat and willows
Into the billows.
Close to her breast the child was press'd.
And down she went; but rose, at length,
Relenting, and with desperate strength
Cried, " Save lord Konig's child! " then, drank
The wave, and sank.