Earl March look'd on his dying child,
And smit with grief to view her--
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled
Shall be restored to woo her.
She's at the window many an hour
His coming to discover:
And he look'd up to Ellen's bower
And she look'd on her lover--
But ah! so pale, he knew her not,
Though her smile on him was dwelling--
And am I then forgot--forgot?
It broke the heart of Ellen.
In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;
Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.