Ada’s Lament. By the Lady Charlotte St. Maur . The moon shines clear o’er land and sea, The winds are hush’d, the wave is still; But thou art parted far from me, I share not now thy good or ill. Yon pallid moon, this silent hour, May yet assert their gentle sway— Recall thy Ada’s lonely bow’r, Where oft she chides thy long delay; And mem’ry now may claim a tear, For her to whom thou still art dear, Tho’ far away ! When o’er the pathless waters borne, Far from thy lowd, thy native shore, When foams the sea by tempests torn, And loud the angry breakers roar ; And gazing on the darken’d sky, And billows wreath’d in sparkling foam, The seaman droops his dauntless eye, And breathes a fond farewell to home,— Oh ! mid these scenes so dark and drear, Say, wilt thou give a sigh, a tear, To her away ? When landed on a foreign strand, Where pleasure wings the rosy hours, And bids her light and sportive band Invite thee to her blooming bow’rs ;— Where all is mirth and all is joy, And mazy dance, or festal song, And fairest forms their wiles employ, To lure thy captive heart along,— Ah ! mid these scenes so new and gay, Still wilt thou give to her away A sigh, a tear ? When loud the pealing clarion rings, To bid the work of death prepare, And to his steed each warrior springs, And gleams each glitt’ring falchion bare ; And ranks on ranks are hotly press’d, And carnage strews the crimson ground, And many a true and valiant breast Is gor’d with deep and ghastly wound— Oh ! mid these scenes with horror fraught, Say, wilt thou give a passing thought To her away ? When stretch’d upon the tented field, All worn and weary with the fight, And pillow’d on a broken shield, By the red watch-fire’s glowing light ; While on thy brow the damp, chill, dew All coldly falls, and on thine ear, Some feeble moan, or faint adieu, Murmur’d by one that’s dying near— Oh ! mid these scenes of woe and pain, Say, wilt thou still a thought retain For her away ? And oh ! should angry Heav’n decree That I shall never meet thee more,— That thou should’st sink ’neath stormy sea, Or perish on a hostile shore !— Of hope bereft, forlorn, deprest, And doom’d to endless grief a prey, To soothe my lone and aching breast, In fancy’s ear a voice will say— Thy last adieu, and parting sigh, And fondest pray’r were breath’d on high, For her away ! And there, within those cloister’d walls, Where ev’ry earthly hope is dead, Where nought to joy or life recalls, Shall Ada hide her drooping head ; At matin’s call, or vesper bell, Bidding each care and grief remove, Awhile she leaves her lonely cell, To meet thee in the realms above ! The solemn chant, the murmur’d pray’r, Shall turn the darkness of despair To light and love !