Round youthful Henry's restless bed <br />His weeping friends and parents pressed; <br />But she who raised his languid head <br />He loved far more than all the rest. <br /> <br />Fond mutual love their bosoms fired; <br />And nearly dawned their bridal day, <br />When every hope at once expired, <br />For Henry on his death-bed lay. <br /> <br />The fatal truth the sufferer read <br />In weeping Lucy's downcast eye: <br />"And must I, must I, then," he said, <br />"Ere thou art mine, my Lucy, die! <br /> <br />"No,...deign to grant my last, last prayer; <br />'T would soothe thy lover's parting breath, <br />Wouldst thou with me to church repair, <br />Ere yet I feel the stroke of death. <br /> <br />"For trust me, love, I shall my life <br />With something like to joy resign, <br />If I but once may call thee wife, <br />And, dying, claim and hail thee mine." <br /> <br />He ceased: and Lucy checked the thought <br />That he might at the altar die,.... <br />The prayer with such true love was fraught, <br />How could she such a prayer deny? <br /> <br />They reached the church....her cheek was wan <br />With chilling fears of coming woe.... <br />But triumph when the rites began <br />Lent Henry's cheek a flattering glow. <br /> <br />The nuptial knot was scarcely tied, <br />When Henry's eye strange lustre fired, <br />"She's mine! she's mine!" he faltering cried, <br />And in that throb of joy expired.<br /><br />Amelia Opie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballad-2/
