Ellinor's Lament. Poem by Fidelia S T Hill

In other days a tower 'tis said
Far hence upreared its stately head:
And proud Saint Oswald ruined now
Peer'd o'er yon lofty mountain's brow.
Ah! welladay.
And oh! what revels there were seen
'Mid courtly knights, and ladies sheen,
All these alack have passed away
But I have woes that never may.
Ah! welladay.
Oswald was deemed of youths most fair
He won the heart — he well might share,
But mine own brother, young Oswald proved
Ah! would that I had never loved!
Ah! welladay.
On his brent brow the ringlets shone
Like sunbeams o'er some marble stone,
His laughing eye of violet's hue,
Beamed as the sky above so blue. —
Ah! welladay.
And peerless was the lordly grace,
And mein that marked his lofty race,
To see him oft it needed not,
Once seen, he ne'er could be forgot! —
Ah! welladay.
* * * * *
In this a parent's trespass speaks,
And O! it wrings my heart, and breaks
To think a noble father's name
Should strangely thus belinked with shame.
Ah! welladay.
And now this is a weary world
To one, who from joy's summit hurled —
Hath neither home, nor hope, nor friend;
Ah me! ah whither shall I wend?
Ah! welladay.
Deep in some sad and dreary shade,
More lonesome by his absence made,
I'll shroud me in a cloister's cell,
From him I only love — too well.
Ah! welladay.
This pilgrim's garb befits me best:
This cloak must hide my beating breast:
This staff support my sinking weight —
Methinks I'm passing weak of late! —
Ah! welladay.
These sandals cased upon my feet,
Shall aid my speed, and make me fleet
What tho' in sooth I swifter go,
'Tis from thee Oswald, — not from woe!
Ah! welladay.
The raven locks he used to praise,
And love before the sun's bright rays,
'Neath cockle hat, ill grace my brow
O! would that he could see me now,
Ah! welladay.
Wherefore that wish? — 'tis sinful, I
Must Oswald — must my Brother fly,
Fly from him to some far off shore —
And never, never see him more,
Ah! welladay.
The rose must fade from rosier torn,
The broken heart soon cease to mourn,
The dove will not her mate survive,
Nor parted, Oswald can we live.
Ah! welladay.
Full soon for us the passing bell
Shall haply toll its parting knell,
Soon shall the sward above us close
And dark oblivion hide our woes,
Ah! welladay.