The Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1809-1841, 1837-11-08
POETRY.
From the Philadelphia Saturday Chronicle,
EDGAR AND MARY.

BY MRS. LYDIA JANE PERSON
Her heart was withering as she sat
Beside the dying Aowrs
And heard the farewell of the birds
Amongst the faded bow'rs
Her heart was wiihering, and the bloom
Was stealing from hei cheek;
Her form wac bending 10 the tomb,
Her eye was wet and meek
Twas sad TO see her droop, and fade
80 silently away;
She who had been the blithest maid,
Amongst the fair and gay.
Her foot was lightest IN the throng,
That trac'd the graceful dance
Her voice was sweetest in the song
That held the soul in trance.
Yet there had come wintry blight,
Upon this lovely how'r
The cold and solemn gloom of night
Had wrapped the morning hour.
Twas sad to hear the bitter sighs
Swell from breast so fair
Twas sad to see those brilliant eyes
Drop Misery's wasting tear.
A viper in he. bosom lay,
That fed upon her bloom:
And slowly gnaw'd the cords away,
That held her from the tomb.
Young Edgar was the noblest youth
Amongst the village throng;
His eye was bright, his heart was truth,
Fills hand was free and strong,
And lille Mary way his Joy,
His idol, his delight,
While yet the happy wayward boy
Thought life one tissue bright
Twas bliss 10 wreath springs first pale howr
Amongst her sunny hair;
To rifle summers brightest bow'r,
And place IFS beauties there.
He watch d the red, and golden hues.
Steal DER the fruits rich side;
Then brought 1t with its nectar'd juice,
Ia all victor's pride.
lie tanned the bird of sweetest lay,
And gave it 10 her care;
Tie wiled the squirrel from the tree,
To ac, its gambelS there.
But il was early manhoods part
A richer gift to bring -
The love that IN whole warm heart,
Twines every sentienl string.
10 calm and sweet meanderings,
Flowd there united love;
As one bright ril from two pure springs
Glide through blossomd grove.
To'bow at Mary's shrine;
And she dsgrac'd Affections name,
And friendships power divine.
Poor Edgar felt her smile ofpride,
Wound like a venomd lance
As at his rivals wealthy side,
She meet his anguish'd glance.
A few short days, and Edgar's name
Was written with the band
Ofthose who madly toll where Fame
And Death 60 hand in hand,
And Mary's 1atiering suitor proy'd
A rowing bntteIny,
BY whom each beauteous low'I was lov'd
And kiss'd and left 10 die.
Yet not for him did Mary weep
The life corroding tear,
Twas not his name that hlnishd sleep,
And made the day so drear
That led her 10 the blighted bowers.
In autumn's gloomy day;
To st amongst the dying flowers,
And pine with them away.
Twas her own folly that she wept
Beneath the days bright Deems;
Twas Edgar's image while she slept
That darken'd all her dreams.
And now when autumn's frost and storms
Where scattering natures bloom,
her fadeC lace and feeble form,
Seemd ready for the tomb.
She sits beneath the chcquer'd shade,
Otthat same vine-clad tree;
Where she and Edgar often play'd,
And pass'd their last glad day.
Who stands before the mourner now
And calls her from her trance
'Tis Edgar love is in his eye
And rapture in his glance.
Mary can you forgive he cried,
As her pale hand he prest;
Nine be the pardon she replied,
And sunk upon his breast.
When Spring returned in sunny pride,
With wreaths Of fragrant flowers,
She met brave Edgar and his bride,
Amongst their favorte bow'rs.