THE
Kentish Tragedy;
OR,
EDWARD AND HANNAH.
AN AFFECTING TALE.
London: Printed and sold by J. and C. EVANS, Long-lane.
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BESIDE a pleasant hill in Kent,
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Hard by a purling stream,
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The sweet and peaceful cottage stood
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Of lovely Hannah Dean.
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A charming prospect open'd here,
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No building inerfer'd,
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Save where the ancient village Church
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With lofty spire appear'd.
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Around the cot on ev'ry side,
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The lowing herd were seen---
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Where oft the little lambs would play,
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That graz'd upon the green.
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On such a residence as this,
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The proud might envious look!
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There Hannah's days pass'd quiet by---
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So glides the gentle brook.
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Unto this Cottage of Content,
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('Twas known as such by name)
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Young Edward Lawson of the vale,
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To visit often came.
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And Hannah, who had found in him
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A friend both kind and true,
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A friend that always stood by her,
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Whatever might ensue---
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With pleasure heard his tale of love,
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Tho' in an artless strain,
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Without mistrust, for she perceiv'd
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His actions spoke the same;
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Her parents' too their sanction gave
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To Edward's visits here;
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And these good people welcom'd him
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Whene'er he did appear.
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When thus some years had roll'd away,
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And prov'd their love sincere,
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Edward obtain'd his friends consent,
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To wed with Hannah dear.
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The day arriv'd --- the knot was ty'd ---
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All things were manag'd well;
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And ev'ry one who near 'em liv'd,
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Their praises oft would tell.
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It was an union rare indeed,
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Such as are seldom found;
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And long they prov'd domestic love
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Was not an empty sound!
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Yet tho' thus early they were blest,
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And had a friend in need,
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They thought upon the source from whence
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Those blessings did proceed.
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Their grateful praises, morn and eve
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T'ward heaven did ascend,
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To that good Being, who requires
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We should in homage bend.
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Thus Edward and his Hannah liv'd,
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As married people ought;
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And thus they saw, the choice they made
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Had not been dearly bought.
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One ev'ning, as the bell toll'd nine,
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(The village noise had ceas'd)
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Hannah, still finding Edward stay'd,
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Her fears were much increas'd;
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For now the hour had long gone by
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When she expected him;
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And while she mus'd upon the same,
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Her eyes with tears did swim.
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It was November's dreary month,
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And cold and dark the night;
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The rain incessantly did fall,
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Which much did her affright.
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Bleak blew the howling tempest too,
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The wind did loudly roar,
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And sleet and snow together mix'd,
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Beat hard against the door.
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Poor Hannah's fears, amidst the storm,
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Alternate then arose;
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And almost frantic with despair,
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To seek her husband goes!
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All things around her gloomy were
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When she unlatch'd the door,
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And now the dreadful hurricane
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Blew louder than before.
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Just as she clos'd the cottage-gate,
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The village clock struck twelve ---
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It broke so sudden on her ears,
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That down with fear she fell.
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When she recover'd from the fright,
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The wind had spent its force;
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Anon she passed thro' the vale,
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And onward bent her course.
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Regardless what might next ensue,
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She too her purpose stood;
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And in the way she took, must pass
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Close by a lonesome wood!
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Her courage then had almost gone,
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For as she pass'd alone,
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A human voice she plainly heard
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Send forth a dismal groan!
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She paus'd, to listen whence it came,
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Convinc'd her cause was good:
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And now, with trembling steps advanc'd
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Much nearer to the wood.
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Ah! hapless woman, soon she finds
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Edward's self that sigh'd;
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She knew his voice ---'twas no mistake ---
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And loud for help he cry'd!
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In this perplexing state of things,
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And fearful of his doom,
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She hasten'd to the dismal spot,
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Thro' the deep midnight gloom!
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She found him in a dreadful state,
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On the damp earth he lay;
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His body cover'd o'er with wounds,
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The cause of his delay.
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Two villains, who had robb'd him there
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On his returning home,
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Had try'd to take away his life,
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Thinking 'twould not be known;
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But he resisted manfully,
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And made the robbers fly,
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Tho' they had wounded him so much,
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He thought he soon should die.
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Poor Hannah's heart was nearly broke
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To hear her Edward moan;
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And now the reason plain appear'd
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That kept him from his home.
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A surgeon quickly she procur'd,
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Fearing the consequence;
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Assistance also was obtain'd,
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And straight they bore him hence.
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Fair Hannah watch'd his dying couch
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With unremitting care,
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And by th' attention which she paid,
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Shew'd an example rare.
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But tho' the greatest pains were took
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His senses to restore,
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Yet shortly after he expir'd,
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Which grieved Hannah sore.
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Her sorrow now no tongue can tell,
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To find the hopes were fled
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That she indulg'd, until her spouse
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Was number'd with the dead.
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She never rais'd her head again
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After her husband's death,
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But pin'd in secret two long years
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And then resign'd her breath! ---
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The moral which this tale supplies,
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May be compris'd in this ---
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Ever to be prepar'd for death,
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And look for greater bliss,
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Than what this changing world affords,
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Where pleasure's mix'd with pain ---
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Where "ev'ry beating pulse we tell,
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Warns us to heed the same.
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