Amelia Opie

(12 November 1769 – 2 December 1853 / Norwich)

Ballad - Poem by Amelia Opie

Round youthful Henry's restless bed
His weeping friends and parents pressed;
But she who raised his languid head
He loved far more than all the rest.

Fond mutual love their bosoms fired;
And nearly dawned their bridal day,
When every hope at once expired,
For Henry on his death-bed lay.

The fatal truth the sufferer read
In weeping Lucy's downcast eye:
"And must I, must I, then," he said,
"Ere thou art mine, my Lucy, die!

"No,...deign to grant my last, last prayer;
'T would soothe thy lover's parting breath,
Wouldst thou with me to church repair,
Ere yet I feel the stroke of death.

"For trust me, love, I shall my life
With something like to joy resign,
If I but once may call thee wife,
And, dying, claim and hail thee mine."

He ceased: and Lucy checked the thought
That he might at the altar die,....
The prayer with such true love was fraught,
How could she such a prayer deny?

They reached the church....her cheek was wan
With chilling fears of coming woe....
But triumph when the rites began
Lent Henry's cheek a flattering glow.

The nuptial knot was scarcely tied,
When Henry's eye strange lustre fired,
"She's mine! she's mine!" he faltering cried,
And in that throb of joy expired.


Comments about Ballad by Amelia Opie

  • Rookie - 37 Points Colleen Courtney (6/5/2014 9:43:00 AM)

    Ha! I also was thinking oh my, such sad and heartbreaking poem! And then that zinger of a last line to throw in a subtle sense of humor! Although I suppose seeing as how he still died it is still fairly sad. I think........... (Report) Reply

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  • Gold Star - 14,297 Points * Sunprincess * (6/4/2014 4:56:00 PM)

    ......oh I truly love this write......I am so pleased she made him a happy man....and yes the last line gave me a laugh......truly a pleasure to read...
    .................................................~~~~~~ love love love ~~~~~~........................................................ (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 23 Points Thomas Vaughan Jones (4/4/2014 10:01:00 AM)

    This is supposed to be a sad poem. To all intents and purposes, the subject couldn't be more dismal. Yet it carries before it a sense of morose humour, very reminiscent of a later poet, Hilaire Belloc. The rhyme scheme tends towards the comic opera, and the final stanza removes Death to a different stratosphere. Either that, or I'm spending too much time reading poetry. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: joy, trust, death, truth, hope, ballad, love, fire, friend, fear



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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