London 27th Decr. 1829
My Dear Horatia
I send you a tale in the form of a ballad – Tell me how you like it – I will send the conclusion of it in a letter to Caroline.<1> My direction is at Brighton P.O.
Your affte. Brother
H.T.
[WHFT wrote the above in a more careful, formal fashion than usual on the outside sheet. The ballad was carefully written in two columns on the inside, ready for performance.]
Sir Edwin
a true story
====================
O go not, go not, valiant knight
Thro’ the dreary Zauberthal!
See – the light of day
Fast wanes away
And the shadows darker fall!
O stay, O stay for the blessed Sun
Then may’st thou safely go,
But not in the hour
When fiends have pow’r
To work thee harm & woe!
I may not wait, thou holy Friar,
I may not wait for the sun,
for I must be
By the distant Sea
Ere next his course is run.
What seek’st thou by the restless sea,
Thou youthful warrior say!
O I must roam
O’er the billow’s foam
To the Holy Land far away.
And tomorrow eve with the setting sun
The gallant ship will sail:
Then hence away –
For, betide what may,
I will go thro’ the Haunted Vale!
Ah pity ’tis that one so young
O gentle knight as thou,
Should thy home forsake
And rashly take
The stern Crusader’s vow!
O friar, it is a mournful tale –
I lov’d Lenora fair,
She loved again,
But my hopes were vain,
Her father scorn’d my pray’r.
Tis not for such as thee, he said,
Who hast nor Tow’r nor land
Nor secret hoard
Of Treasure stor’d
To ask my daughter’s hand!
I grant, thy name & warlike deeds
Are not to fame unknown,
Thou hast knightly worth
And a noble birth –
But I value wealth alone –
Yet – thou art valiant – Costly spoil
In the Holy Wars is won!
And treasures grow
In the sulty glow
Of Judah’s burning sun!
Oh vain delusion! cried the friar,
Forbear sweet youth & brave!
No wealth is found
On that Sainted ground....
But many a warrior’s grave!
And so, thou holy man, I deem –
He answer’d with a sigh:
But there I'll fight
For the Red Cross bright,
Yes – bravely fight & die!
Those scorching sands – those desert plains,
Henceforth shall be my home:
In that holy strife
Who falls, hath Life
In a better world to come!
The tale is sad, the friar replied,
That love like thine was cross’d;
But devoutly live,
And Heaven will give
the joys that Earth hath lost.
And take my blessing ere we part:
Thy sins – may they be forgiven!
Thro’ the pathway drear
Of the Vale of Fear
Go – and protect thee Heaven!
Part the Second.
Twas Midnight shade – the tangled path
Was dimly seen – was lost –
In the solitude
Of a forest rude
Where tracks perplexing cross’d.
He look’d around him – all was gloom –
Yet thought that he discern’d
Tho’ distant far
Like a twinkling star
A light that faintly burn’d.
His soul rejoic’d, and vigour fresh
Inspir’d him at the view
And to that ray
He bent his way
With hope & ardour new.
O’er bush and stone, he clamber’d on
A weary hour and slow –
The friendly light
Across the night
Now shed a livelier glow!
And still more bright, more bright it grew
As he nigher came and nigher –
What afar did seem
But a glimm’ring beam
Was a fiercely raging Fire!
Amaz’d and aw’d the knight drew near
And a moment paus’d to gaze –
For round it stood
Wild Forms and rude
And pil’d the roaring blaze.
And One of them their Chief did seem
His looks were proud & high
He wav’d his hand
To the dusky band,
And he fix’d on the youth his Eye.
[Address panel:]
Miss Horatia Feilding
Lacock Abbey
Chippenham
Notes:
1. Caroline Augusta Edgcumbe, née Feilding, Lady Mt Edgcumbe (1808–1881); WHFT’s half-sister. The concluding stanzas sent to Caroline have not been located, but clearly she received them. See Doc. No: 01921 and Doc. No: 01947.