In vain she waits, and looks around, Still vainer are her cries; With shrieks the sacred aisles resound;-- Save echo, naught replies: Fell grief her throbbing heart enthrals,-- Her lips grow ghastly pale; She weeps--she faints--and senseless falls Before the altar-rail! But where is he, by whom the vows Of love were pledg'd so late? Demand of Offa's artful spouse, Whose fiat seal'd his fate? The blush of guilt upon her cheek Spreads forth its purple hues,-- And agitation seems to speak What conscience dares refuse! To Him who gives life's fleeting breath His soul has ta'en its flight!-- He sleeps the last long sleep of death Upon his bridal night. His guards were gone;--no friends were near To bless him ere he died! None, none to dry the falling tear, Or bid his pains subside. Oh! where is she whom fate hath made Dejected and forlorn? She goes to Croyland's hallow'd shade, To live--alas!--to mourn! Weep, Anglia, weep!--thy monarch's dead! To heav'n his spirit's flown; And he whose hands his blood have shed Will mount thy vacant throne. He reigns!--but mark! how self-reproach Pervades his inmost breast;-- And pangs of sad remorse encroach Upon his fever'd rest. He lives--but life has little left, If aught, his love to claim; Of all, save grief, 'tis now bereft; To him 'tis but a name! J.H.I. The event which the foregoing stanzas have attempted to describe laid the foundation of the future importance and prosperity of the Cathedral church of Hereford.