I 
 
 i 
 
P O-tu/^xJihj , ^-cJuiSU^J^ 
 
 VJ 
 
 THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL 
 
 OF COTEHELE, 
 J CORNISH ROMANCE, 
 
 IN SIX CANTOS. 
 
 Br THE 4VTH0B OF 
 tOCAL ATTACBMENT, AND TRANSLATOR Of THEOCRITUS* 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 1»RINTED FOR J. CAWTHORN, 24, COCKSPUR-STREET, 
 
 Bif MiCBEiL and Co. Trvro, 
 
 1815. 
 
A-DYtUtlSSUmt, 
 
 Thb Poem is founded on a family-^ 
 tncident in the reign of Queen Mary;--' 
 which the existing contest between Pro^ 
 fes fonts and Papists, must render pecu- 
 liarly interesting at the present day.-^ 
 
 The scene of the Poem is chiefly 
 laid at Cotehele, the ancient residence 
 of the Edgcumhes, on the West bank 
 of the Tamar : In the sixth Canto, it 
 shifts to Mount Edgcumbe. 
 
Digitized,by thejnternet Archive 
 
 in 2007 witii funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/fairisabelofcoteOOpolwrich 
 
^4/ 
 
 THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 ^ CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 INTBODUCTORy ADDKES8. 
 
 ivi687804 
 
TO 
 
 IVALTER SCOTT, Esq. 
 
 Ah, smile not, whilst the feeble fire 
 Mounts from my inharmonious lyre, 
 Whilst every note, from rustic strings, 
 In weak vibration trembling rings ! 
 Yet to thine ear, ingenuous friend I 
 Would every trembling note ascend. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 
 
 From Corn wail's wreck-devoted shores, 
 Her barren hills, and russet moores, 
 Where languid verdure tints the vales ; 
 And sigh thro* chasms the summer-gales ; 
 And the eye wantlers o*er a scene 
 By lawn nor grove nor dingle green, 
 Till in some little meadow-close 
 With vagrance tir'd it seeks repose ; 
 Alas ! amid tills murky gloom 
 Can fancy spread the ethereal plume ? 
 O ! shall her vainly- venturous aim 
 Pursue thy wings of living flame 
 That rise, where vast floods scoop their way, 
 And lakes thro' forests glimmer gray^ 
 And cataracts, by huge oaks o'erbrow'd, 
 Foam to the threatening thunder-cloud, 
 Ere yet its vollied vengeance break 
 On rocky ridge or towering peak, 
 And all appears the poet's dream, 
 '^ Land of the mouptain and the stream ?'* ' 
 
INTRODUCTOkY ADt)RESS. 5 
 
 And lo ! thy glens, thy woods, thy springs* 
 Gleam but to saints and wariiour-kings ! 
 I hear them rustle thro' the shade — 
 Heroes, that people every glade. 
 And brighten thro' the faery haze 
 From Ossian's time to border-days, 
 While ruin'd roofs and castltd dells 
 Still echo back the feast of shells ; 
 And, midst their clanmen rush to figbt 
 Proud spirits who erst, of stal worth might, 
 Ravish'd the moonlight foray meed 
 On Teviot's banks, or Tync or Tweed. 
 
 Her guerdon yet hath Cornwall won 
 In many a bold heroic son ; 
 From those who wore the hoary crown, 
 The Car-borne chiefs of old renown, 
 To these who strew'd with rebel dead 
 The Jblazon'd field where Granville bled. 
 
 B 3 
 
6 INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 
 
 And shall we not retr^ice the line 
 In long long splendouvs from Locrinc, 
 Whilst in Dunstanville blend the fires 
 Transmitted from his baiiner'd sire*, 
 With all that whilom wont to glow 
 In Arundel and Caerminow ; 
 While high Boscawen, more rich and deep 
 Thy greenwoods swell their breezy sweep,. 
 And, fiankt with more than former pride, 
 New turrets shadow Vala's tide ; 
 Kindling, while Valetort reveres 
 The vision of departed years, 
 Still seems to grasp the patriot steel. 
 And worships in his own Cotehele, 
 As o'er the shrine of glory bent, 
 Its patriaichal monument ' 
 
 'Twas at the time when wealth and birth 
 Flung lustre on then* simple worth, 
 
INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 
 
 My sires, allied to Valetort, 
 Would to Cot6here''sl6v'd bowers resort i 
 As all the rites of genial cheer 
 Bless'd, in high glee, the closing year. 
 
 And well, I ween, one festive bard 
 Paid to tliose rites his fond regard ; 
 Still bidding jokes and gibes avail. 
 To season many a Christmas tale ? 
 
 For me, if Valetort but deign 
 To listen to the eventful strain, 
 Perhaps, in no degenerate lays 
 May flow my tale of other days { 
 And with no ineffectual aim, 
 To give to praise an ancient name, - 
 Contrasting honest fair desert 
 With mean malignity and art. 
 My minstrel-muse shall marvels tell, 
 Such as beseem the Christmas well ; 
 
« INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 
 
 Such as may bid the guests draw near 
 With cordial laughter mingling fear, 
 O'er the gay groupe where blazes flash 
 From hissing hoUies, flying ash, 
 And in each countenance pourtray 
 The passions, rapid as they play. 
 To every quick transition true, 
 What never Rembrandt's pencil drew. 
 
TH« 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 IKTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
Cl^e fait gijsabel of €otti^tU. 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 
 I. 
 
 Wh€^e Cornwall's dreary genius cowers o'er 
 rocks [heathj 
 
 Of Druid fame^— o'er barf Qw'd hills of 
 There, where in ancient days umbrageous 
 oaks [neath^ 
 
 Involv'd in wizard gloom the shrines be- 
 And thro' the central darkness murmur'd 
 death ; 
 I feel again, from all her echoing caves 
 
 The consecrated trumpet's thrilliiigbreath! 
 Again 1 hear, as charm'd old Ocean heaves, 
 The harp's symphonious sounds, that hush 
 the weltering waves. 
 
n INTRODUCTION 
 
 n. 
 
 Snatcht from the flaming altars of the East 
 I see the hallow'd fires of Iran rise, 
 
 To mark, unfolding May ! thy floral feast ! 
 Behold they lighten to the starry skies I 
 The circling priests their wands in solemn 
 guise 
 
 Wave to and fro; and all is pale amaze ' 
 From crag to crag the hum of voices dies ; 
 
 And, as assembled clans in silence gaze , 
 
 The distant karnes draw near, and kindle in 
 the blaze. 
 
 III. 
 But, guilt (that cried for vengeance) to atone, 
 
 I saw the shivering sacrifice of blood, 
 What time the moon, her horns replenished, 
 shone 
 Thro* the thick foliage of the lurid wood! 
 Lo, how tliey catch, where hiss'd the vi- 
 pious brood, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 The Milpreu fiung into the fields of air ! 
 
 See -hreak away, by man yet unsubdued, 
 Yon milk-white steeds, along the moorland 
 far [rattling car. 
 
 Tossing their harncss'd heads, and dash the 
 
 IV. 
 
 See, w^iere Karnbre in savage grandeur wild 
 Frow^ns o'er the crowds that scale her crag- 
 gy steep, 
 That ledge immense upon its rockstone pi I'd 
 To its wdiite glimmering draws attention 
 deep ! ' [mystic sweep 
 
 The Archdruid iiings the lymph. With 
 He turns around. He beckons, silent, slow^ 
 To the dark spirit within that scem'd to 
 sleep f [below 
 
 Lo, the rock shakes and trembles ' — All 
 Religious frenzy goads-— all own the inspir- 
 ing glow ! 
 
14 INTRODUCTiax 
 
 V. 
 And now, to drink the crimson flood of life, 
 Where towers the Cromlech on the top- 
 most height, 
 He sternly lifts the sacrificing knife! 
 Around the mountain sides long vest- 
 ments white [light ! 
 Float silvery to the moonbeam's sacred 
 And lo I he waits with deathful pause and 
 pale, 
 The dire portentous moment of midnight \ 
 It comes ! the knife descends ! The piteou« 
 wail [bosoms haij? 
 -And limbs convals'd in blood, can human 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes ! it was thus imposture aim'd to waft 
 Man's prayers to Jove, in error 's dunncst 
 day; 
 While priestly domination, priestly craft - 
 
INTRODUCTION. ^H 
 
 Was no faint semblance of the Almighty 
 
 sway, 
 Or of eternal wisdom seemM a ray ! 
 And leap'd not forth the ethereal flame, to 
 scatfi 
 Presumption's crest amidst the mad essay ? 
 Why paus'd the lightnings in their blazing 
 
 path, [Heaven's wrath ? 
 
 Nor fork'd their keenest fire, to execute 
 
 VIL 
 
 But where beam'd health the everlasting 
 cross 
 Prostrate, how oft hath sacerdotal guile 
 Bid all the unfolding sky the soul engross 
 Where earth and sensual pleasure lurk'd 
 
 the while ? 
 How grand the arches of the gothic pile ! - 
 Its dark illuminations rich, that stain 
 
 The tremulous pavement of the pillar'^ 
 aisle i 
 
16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Nor the sweet virgin's image sheds in vain 
 The ideal glory round,. to gild her holy fane. 
 
 VIIL 
 
 And doth r»ot awe with timid eye pursue 
 Where matin radiance falls, or torches 
 flare [ful hue 
 
 I'he hood, the cowl, the vestment's mourn- 
 Tlie solemn gait, the penitential air, 
 The contrite look, as tho' absorbed in 
 prayer ; [rise 
 
 While, swelling thro the spacious concave 
 Measures, to banish low-born grief and 
 care ! [nies — 
 
 Now deep and full, the entrancing harmo- 
 Now, stealing soft away, the distant mu- 
 sic dies 1 
 
 IX. 
 
 But, muffled up in saintly garment white 
 
INTRODUCTION, 17 
 
 Have we not often seen insidious art, 
 Have we not seen the abstemious hypocrite 
 With meek demeanour hide the ruffian ^s 
 heart ? [part ! 
 
 Nor seldom doth he play the lecher's 
 Lo where he glides, and sudden sinks within 
 Some shadowy nook, from the dim form 
 we start ! 
 The maiden's ear his secret whispers win ! 
 He stores the frail-one's sighs, and riots o'er 
 her sin. 
 
 X. 
 
 And see where recent from the vernal groves 
 On the cold floor those sprinkled blooms 
 expire, 
 Imperious pomp! — the m!tred abbess move?, 
 And her long train of nuns in dark attire, 
 And all black-veird, approach the hal- 
 lowed choir I [ascend ! 
 
 F . . . . " 
 
 ajnt, quivering, slow, the muistrel-notcs 
 
n INTRODUCTION. 
 
 All. sec (adku to Jiope and young desiTel) 
 llie lovely mourner oVr tte altar bend ! 
 lAme maid 1 adieu to hope ! save Heaven, 
 tkou hast no friends 
 
 XL 
 
 The reverend father opes the book. At once 
 The fuU-voicM aiitheni vaunts sublimcr 
 tays ! 
 In every tone, how plamtive the response 1 
 How witching to the ear llie strain of 
 prai^ 1 [raise — 
 
 Beliold ! her s^cr^y veil €h« attendants 
 Her ha«d m hcAy trance the vestal rears > 
 Ajad where unvalued gems the shrine 
 erribla^e^ 
 Savfeird 38 by tl^ music of the spheres, 
 She VX3WS the eternal vow ; and wondci^ 
 dries her tears 1 
 
I>rrRODUCTION. 19 
 
 XIL 
 
 Yet will they flow afresh. Too early lost 
 To all the gentle bosom karns to prize, 
 Full soon, where nuns angelic sweetness 
 boast, [nant eyes^ 
 
 Will she shrink back from dark malig- 
 And hollow cheeks, of grief the poor dis- 
 guise ; 
 And hear, reechoed from secluded cell. 
 At the pale vigil sad repining sighs ! 
 And see, whilst oft her carnal thoughts re- 
 bel, [swell ! 
 With supercilious airs that mitred abbess 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
Cl^e fair gijsabel of Cotelielc, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 L 
 Arising in the moody blast 
 The sleety stonn had well-nigh pass'd 
 (Ere the struggling day's first gleam) 
 Cotehelc's old towers, and Tamar-stream. 
 And now a few snow-feathers light 
 Twinkled in the rear of night. 
 Still was the sullen hour and dark ; 
 The castle-roof nor eye could mark^ 
 
54 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cant 
 
 Nor window-shaft, nor portal gray, 
 Nor oaken branch, nor ashen spray ; 
 When, suddenly, the bulwark'd wall, 
 Raaipires, portcullis, windows, ^11, 
 And hollows down the steep wood-side, 
 And rocks amidst the foamy tide. 
 The oak's broad crest, and far below^ 
 Its cavern' d trunk that held the snow ; 
 The dusky fir, the berried ash — 
 Discover'd in one azure flash, ^ 
 jSTo sooner shone 
 Than they w^ere gone 
 In the elemental crash ! 
 
 II. 
 
 As in a fearful pause, the air 
 Heavy and faint, was hush'd afar ; 
 Save that, from the chapel-spire. 
 The white owl, scar'd by the levin-fire ; 
 
CANTO I. A CORNISH ROMANCE. «5 
 
 Saird down the wood, and brush'd the 
 
 ice -drops 
 Half-molten, from the tinkling copse, 
 And where the boughs bent low, to close 
 In one deep thicket, sought repose. 
 
 III. 
 
 Penciling the gloom in paly streaks, 
 Athwart Cotchele the twilight breaks, 
 Steals o'er the parapet, imprints 
 On the eastern casements ruddy tints, 
 Anitouches, at " My Lady's-bower," 
 The lattice of the southern tower. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There Isabel in slumber lay ; 
 As now a lone star, the last-left 
 Of all the fainting lights, its ray 
 Sent thro' a western cloud's dun cleft, 
 To mingle with the uncertain day. 
 
 D 
 
26 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto 
 
 V 
 
 Hour after hour, she had not slept, 
 But all night long had watch'd and wept. 
 Chill had the chapel-clock beat one- 
 She had not slept — her rest was gone. 
 As if it could that rest restore, 
 She rose and pac'd her 'chamber-floor ; 
 While oft to eddying gusts the fane 
 Echoed, and rang its whirling vane^ 
 And the gales thro' crannies told decay^ 
 And moan'd along the cloystral way. 
 Then upwards whistling seem'd to scalp 
 The buttress, and the tower assail, 
 And in murmurs 3 wept the arras behind; 
 And the dying embers to the wind 
 Kindled up, a bright blue flame ! 
 And priests and warriours in the gleam 
 Crested or mitred with menacing look 
 
 ^ Shook their crosiers and pikes, as the ta- 
 pestry shook ' 
 
CANTO I. A CORNISH ROJIANCE. 57 
 
 VI. 
 
 But was it the tempestuous air, 
 
 The cold moan, or the ghastly glare 
 
 Bade her like shivering aspen leaf 
 
 Qucikc to the phantom of affright? 
 
 She knew not terror ; it was grief. 
 
 Not the warbler, all thro' night. 
 
 That seems to wooe the moon's clear light 
 
 To its own vernal grove. 
 
 Its silvery foliage whispering love ; 
 
 Not violets stealing from the dew 
 
 A sweeter breath, and brighter hue, 
 
 Its tendrils where the woodbine curls, 
 
 And soft the shaded brooklet purls, 
 
 Could in her eyes have cherish'd sleep — 
 
 Lids that only wak'd to weep. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Her chamber had she pac'd in vain, 
 Then sought her troubled couch again ; 
 
 D 2 
 
j» FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cant© u 
 
 Till, closing, eve the dim sunrise, 
 
 Seal'd were at length her wearied eyes. 
 
 Her right hand, on the pillow laid, 
 
 Seem'd to support a throbbing head. 
 
 Her iiagers, erst of roseate hue, 
 
 The ebbing blood left pale and blue. 
 
 Loosen'd from its silken braid, 
 
 A lock had down her bosom stray'd. 
 
 And on that pure illumin'd breast 
 
 Wav'd light, as if it lov'd to rest ; 
 
 Tho to the bosom-fall or swell 
 
 As sighs were breath' d, it rose or fell ! 
 
 For with k sigh, a shriek, a start, 
 
 Was flush'd her cheek, or tlirobb'd her heart, 
 
 Where care or sorrow quickly pass'd — ^ 
 
 The summer-shadow, fleeting fast, 
 
 So dims the golden air ! 
 
 Till, as her lips with brighter glow 
 
 Half-opening shew'd each pearly row, 
 
 O'er her sweet features stole the while 
 
 Calm and more calm a lively smile, 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 And with no shade from grief or care 
 That smile so lovely triumph'd there. 
 It was a precious dream, I ween, 
 Weaving some tender faery scene — 
 Some form, to scatter every grief, 
 As May's young morn in mild relief — 
 It was a dream which, all the while, 
 Created that transcendant smile ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But hark— the blast of the war-horn— 
 (She wakes to a wild wintry morn !) 
 Grasping at her dream in vain, 
 She wakes to keener pain. 
 The neigh, the prance, and now more near 
 The horse-hoof clatters on her ear. 
 Mingled with other sounds of fear — 
 The Wardour's voice, the pondrous gate, 
 And ringing shields and spears that wait 
 Her valorous sire, the good old knight 
 
 D 3 
 
^ FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, CANrai. 
 
 In mail and high plum'd hehnet dight, 
 And the rush of the troop in war's attire 
 That closjf around her valorous sire. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Scarce had she heard his pawing horse. 
 Ere had commenc'd his rapid course ; 
 Scarce had she caught his helmet-plume 
 Ere he had plung'd tkro' forest-gloom : 
 Tho' long the echoes mark'd his way^ 
 And every echo seem'd to say, 
 Quivering on her startled ear, 
 Dying, yetin accents clear: 
 ^' Gone is thine only earthly stay !*' 
 Then, hastening from her lattice dim, 
 She thought upon her orphan-state; 
 Her only trust (save H«aven) in him ! 
 And her poor heart was desolate.^ 
 
cANTd I. A CORNISH ROMANCE. n 
 
 X. 
 
 In morning vesture strait array'd, 
 Nor from her Jesse asking aid 
 (A gentle tho' a rural maid) 
 Along the dusky corridore 
 With noiseless steps she stole ; 
 To meet (in sympathies of soul 
 Such as her sorrows best might cure) 
 To meet a spirit, belov'd as pure f 
 And pure she dcem'd that spirit must be, 
 From fleshly dross escaped and free ! 
 To meet (if fancy could restore) 
 That form alas I which never more^' 
 She thought, could filial love descry. 
 Or gaze upon with mortal eye. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But when she tremulous survey'd 
 The cedar chamber's sombre shade v 
 
3i FAIR ISAML OF COTEHELE, canto c. 
 
 The lone bed shuddering to behold, 
 The crimson curtains drear and cold. 
 And the pale pillow totter'd near. 
 And to tond love and duty dear, 
 Haird, and kiss'd it o'er and o*er ; 
 Her faint head bending as before 
 When she was anxious to sustain 
 Her parent, and alleviate pain — 
 Ah ! fancy's was a weak essay ; 
 And grief absorb'd its golden ray. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Pressing that lone cold glimmering bed. 
 
 It was too much, where hope was fled, - 
 
 To paint the visionary dead ! 
 
 It was too much, beneath the sky. 
 
 For feeble man — 'twas agony I 
 
 Yet soon came aid, her soul to calm : 
 
 And was it any earthly balm ? 
 
 No ! 'twas tlie sense of sins forgiv'n, 
 
«ANTO I. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 That, as it soothM the conscious heart 
 Conimercing with its kindred Heaven, 
 The breath of Eden could impart ; 
 That bade each Httle tumult cease, 
 Each fear allay'd, and whispered peace. 
 
 XIII. 
 " Adieu (she- cried) dear Saint ! adieu P 
 And to her favourite oriel flew ; 
 Where, open'd from the cedar-room, 
 Her mother, in the matin prayer. 
 The vesper hymn,iost every care : 
 And Isabel, admitted there 
 E'en in her infant bloom, 
 Priz'd more than rubies, duteous girl ! 
 Than all Babsora's rainbow pearl, 
 The sacred hour of orison. 
 When by that mother's side she shone. 
 
34 FAIR ISABEL OP COTEHELE, canto i. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Thro' diamond panes of storied glass 
 Scarce could the light of morning pass. 
 Yet 'twas enough, through each dim pane^ 
 The room with richer tints to stain ; 
 Colouring, upon the shrine below, 
 The crucifix with finer glow, 
 And from its polish'd brilliance raying, 
 And on the Virgin's image playing,^ 
 But, where an amber radiance fell. 
 Illumining fair Isabel ! 
 No muse, in sooth, could paint it true—* 
 So soft it was, and sombrous too ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Kneeling before; the velvet shrine, 
 
 Her vest's light folds, in every line. 
 
 Her limbs, iilie lambent splendours, woo'd-** 
 
 It was a heavenly attitude! 
 
 The bloom that tinctur'd her young cheek 
 
CANTO I. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 5^ 
 
 From sorrow's touch was pale and weak. 
 
 But it was lovelier and more fair 
 
 Than dancing Hebes pictur'd are ; 
 
 Their witching forms tho' fancy flush, 
 
 And pleasure prompt the kindling blush ! 
 
 Lo, as sheclasp'd her haods in prayer, 
 
 Wav'd, on one side, her chesnut hair ! 
 
 Her open brow divinely arch'd 
 
 Stole softness from its shade serene, 
 
 Or, where the purple current march'd. 
 
 Was as the ivory white ; 
 
 And each clear vein 
 
 Was more distinct in light ! 
 
 And, as she rais'd her fine blue eyes, 
 
 Glow'd on her lips the vestal fire ; 
 
 And from her heart breath'd holier sighs 
 
 Than flow from passion or desire ! 
 
 Yet, midst the links of groveling earth, 
 
 Had not one sigh a humbler birth ? 
 
$$ FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto i. 
 
 Long had the beauteous fair-onc pray'd 
 For her dear mother Alice rest : 
 JSut still the cushion, still shepress'd. 
 And, softly from the sky-blue cieling 
 Her pensive eyelashes now stealing, 
 Were downwards cast, as if to shade 
 The languish of a melting maid ! 
 And her thoughts seem'd afar to stray — 
 Yet, where they wander'd, who shall say r 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But, sudden, to that cieling's azure 
 Alarm'd her eyes she flung again : 
 And blushes did her cheek distain, 
 As if some whisper from the roof, 
 Some still small voice had sent reproof. 
 It was her hasty conscience said : 
 " Thou thinkst not of thy parent dead ! 
 ** O, from thy heart, with quick erazure, 
 
oAN^u A CORNISH ROMANCE. 3t 
 
 Each image be eiFac'd that, vain. 
 Would interpose to soften pain, 
 And promise perishable pleasure I 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 '* ll;e dear maternal ties now torn asunder. 
 And all around so plung'd in melancholy ; 
 
 How could I selfish and unfeeling wandex' 
 Amid the wiles of fancy and of foUy ; 
 
 Nor in my thought pursue thy parted spirit 
 
 To realms which worth and holiness inherit? 
 
 2. 
 
 If any earthly dream my heart deceiving 
 A moment charm away my bitter anguish— 
 
 If any human sigh my soul relieving 
 
 Bid me o'er visions of the future languish ; 
 
 O ! to a sense of duty strait restore me— 
 
 Thy dying accents brought him all before 
 me !" 
 
 E 
 
53 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto I. 
 
 xviir. 
 
 But lo ! to the door's sudden creak 
 
 The colour deepen'd on her cheek, 
 
 And ** Jesse !" she essay'dto speak. 
 
 '' Jesu Maria ! what ail alone ! ' ' 
 
 *' Like.you, laments not every one! 
 
 " But O ! had I lost such a mother, besurc, 
 
 " For trouble I never shoiild smile any more I 
 
 " And your fatlier is sent to the v^est, they 
 
 all say, 
 '' To fight v^ith a rebel, and die in the fray f 
 " And your sister sneers at your distress — 
 '' I dread her evil eye, no less 
 " Than that old hag, the Prioress I 
 " And that dark Monk^ of shaven crown, 
 •' Who stalks the cloysters up and down 
 '' With giant gait and savage frown — 
 ** From his scowl, as from a ghost, I start— 
 '^ But pray, my lady ! pray, take heart." 
 
«ANTOi. ACORMSn ROMANCE. 59 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Stay (Isabel cyy'd) O jESbE I stay ! 
 
 '' My sire— 'tis tru<e~he is summon'd away— 
 
 *' I heard his steeds at dusk of day : 
 
 " And, as they did the pavement paw, 
 
 ** They struck on my heart ! and'O' I saw 
 
 ** His white crest, Uke the stormy spray, 
 
 *' But, I trust, he will lose not a hair of his 
 
 head! ^ 
 '* AniJ did you see the cavalcade ? 
 '' And did you hear, when yester-night 
 •^« Lady Alice was huried by bloody torch- 
 light, 
 ** The hymn that clos'd the funeral rite ? 
 ^' My poor dear mother ' — on her bier 
 " I she(^ — no — not a single tear ! 
 *' My heart was full — my senses gone — 
 ** In me mid aisle, 1 dropp'd, like clay, 
 ** On a sepulchral stone ! — 
 <But when the fresh night-breeze had brought 
 *' My feelingback, and wandering thought ; 
 
40 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cakto i. 
 
 ** Wh^n 1 behcW you bending iicar ; 
 *' I sigh'd and sigh'd, as from my breast 
 *• A burthen went that sore oppress'd; 
 ** And should have still returned, to hear 
 '^ That requiem to affection dear, 
 ** Had I not met my sister's glance — 
 *' So scornful, as sbe looked askance ! 
 ** It was a glance I could not bear — 
 *' Amidst the dismal glare !'' 
 ^* It gleam'd (said Jesse) to the torch 
 ** Gehenna-like, I swear ! 
 <' As she forc'd me from the chapel-porch, 
 '* And hurried vou off 
 ^' With such a scoff, 
 And dar'd me with threats like the day of 
 doom, 
 ^On my life ap|)roach the arras-room!^' 
 
*CANT0 1. A CORNISH ROMANCE. . 41 
 
 XX. 
 
 "Talk— talk not so— ^tis well— 'tis well !— 
 (Half-chiding, spake fair Isabel) 
 " Oj'adier, Jesse ! call to mind 
 ** Your Lady Alice tkro' life so kind, 
 " And at the last ebb so resign'd ! 
 " Then, could no human pencil paint 
 ** The meekness of that blessed saint i 
 *' When, but some hours before her death 
 " 1 fann'd her,^ft as faiPd her breath, 
 <* She. look' d — :it was an angeFs look — ' 
 ^* And with a tremulous pressure took 
 " My hand, and sigh'd : "' I only grle/e 
 *" My orphan Isabel to leave * 
 
 "' (As my soul quits this nether sphere) 
 "*** A prey to guile and malice here. 
 **' Would that thy heart, which often shews 
 *u What prudence scruples to disclose, 
 *'^ ( Discover'd in ablush, a sigh 
 **' To spleen or vaunted sanctity) 
 
 E 2 
 
Mt tAJR ISABEL OF COtEHELK, ca^oi, 
 
 ^^^ Had kept, tho' I thy vow3 approve, 
 *^' Hcfd kept the secret of thy love."* 
 ^* O Jesse !-^tho' with many a pause — 
 '' Did she repeat his sweet applause ! 
 ** H(Hv I admkM (she said) that soul 
 '*' Which brook'd nor art, nor base controul- 
 *'* Generous in all the warmth of youth 
 '*** Was he, who doth thy heart possess ; 
 "''^ And Heaven (I thought) his manly truth- 
 ''* His virtues rare, must surely bless ! 
 ***• Yet have 'I sufFer'd much distress, 
 ^' Oft in your loves foreboding ruth 1 
 *** For ah (she said and faintly smil'd) 
 ^" He is a heretic, my child '— 
 *" Ee'^n now doth Mary bid thy sire, 
 *" Ere -two short wintery days expire, 
 ^" Hunt over heath, ihro' fen and flood, 
 **' All who may boast Trevanion's blood- 
 ^" And well, alas ! too well we know 
 ^** The queea, an unrelenting foe 1 
 
^KTdi. A CORNISn ROMANCE. 4S 
 
 ••' My Isabel ! beware! 
 *" O there are some, who, not far hence, 
 *" In treachery kagued, but set the snare 
 ^" To trap thine innocence I 
 ^*'That Jacqueline, wliom beneath our roof 
 *" The good Sir Richard yet protects, 
 *'* Did wickedly — (my souJ suspects)-— 
 **' Deceive itsiy an artifice 
 "* I dread to name I — Sir Richard cries, 
 *" The mind's persuasion is not proof. 
 "*" All I would say — the Prioress^ still 
 <" And Mawd I fear, are brooding ill,"^' 
 
 XXL 
 
 -Creak'd the harsh doors. A moment pale 
 Sweet Isabel resumed her tale. 
 << Who, Jesse ' who, I said, could paint 
 *' The last hours ef that blessed saint ? 
 " Much less — that meekness on her face 
 ^ Which, after death, yet left its trace 
 
H FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, camto ^ 
 
 " As in a sleepy lustre weak, 
 
 ^* But fix'd in her undying cheek ? 
 
 *^ Much less— that love whose quenchless fire 
 
 " Yet featui'd in a languid streak 
 
 ** Not death itself could bid expire ? 
 
 " O ! I have seen in autumn-sky-—* 
 
 "*' (The sun's last beams had met my eye) 
 
 " Like that, a tincture have I seen, 
 
 *' So soft, so tender, so serene ! 
 
 " O ' when in stillness husht was all, 
 
 " (A sear leaf did distinctly fall ) 
 
 ** And the twiliglit air was as the dead, 
 
 " Like that I saw the unfleeting red, 
 
 ** A feeble stain the heaven that cross'd-;^ 
 
 '^ The brilUance of the hue was lost ; 
 
 " Lovely, tho' faded was tlie flame — 
 
 *' Tho' faint, it lingered yet the same !" 
 
 Again the hinges jarr'd — near drew 
 
 Some steps ; when off light Jesse flew' 
 
CANTO I. A CORNISH ROjXTANXE. 45 
 
 XXIL 
 Lone were the hours. The dinner-bell 
 To her was like that Curfew-knell 
 Which in eider time to the night-bird toU'd 
 When freedom died away, and linkt 
 With cordial worth was joy extinct ; 
 When home was comfortless and coid.— • 
 Yet the fair maid now meets the blaze 
 That brighten'd up to festive days, 
 And wakening no dishonest mirth 
 Ilium'd the hospitable health! 
 Ah ! cheerless now as shadows fall, 
 It waveis on the wainscot wall. 
 
 XXIIL 
 
 Of good Sir Richard's menial ti^ain, 
 
 All had been suffer' d to sustain 
 
 A part in his too perilous course ; 
 
 Each arniM with spear, and mounting horse ; 
 
 Save the old wardour^ drooping low, 
 
 Who pac'd the gateway, to and fro ; 
 
46 FAiR J SABEL OF COTEHELE, canto i. 
 
 The boteler^ who now serv'd the hall, 
 The armourer and the seneschal^ 
 And he who once, when minstrel France 
 Was one wildregion of roinance, 
 Had harp'd to Richmond's royal train 
 The deeds of heroes battle-siain, 
 And triuinph'd in tlie proud array 
 That blazon'd Bosworth's sanguine day. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The hoteler^ (such we grant to age) 
 Had us'd an old man's privilege. 
 And, acting still a faithful part, 
 Tried to speak comfort to her heart ; 
 But that Jie saw her musing mood, 
 As solitary yet she stood, 
 And less and less (it seem'd) forlorn, 
 A balsam from the portrait drew 
 Refreshing to her spirits, as dew 
 To hyacinth that scents the morn ! 
 
CANTO r. A CORNISH romance;. ' 4T 
 
 Still, as each picture's eyes she caught, 
 
 She found a fiieiid — the old man,thouglit— 
 
 In pity to a starting tear, 
 
 Where'eer she look'^d, each look'd on her ' 
 
 It was a sort of pensive gaze 
 
 From the pale forms of other days, 
 
 That sooth' d the anguish of her soul, 
 
 And from herself her sorrow stole. 
 
 On a gray dame the fire-blaze stream'd : 
 
 And, kindling as her featured beam'd, 
 
 Defiance they appear'd to dart 
 
 On malice and insidious art, 
 
 Then, soften'd to expression mild, 
 
 To bless her unprotected child. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And long did Isabel's fancy rest 
 Complacent on the scarlet vest, 
 And gorgeous buttons wrought in gold, 
 Brilliant from many a fluid fold ; 
 
43 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto i. 
 
 The chain an either side that hung^ 
 And its linkt radiance richly flung ; 
 Full round the neck the plaited rutF> 
 Stiff on the coalblack hair the coit ; 
 GemmM bracelets that adorn'd the wrists^ 
 The fingers, rings of amethysts. 
 But there came up at once a hollow sound. 
 From the stone-stairs winding round and 
 
 round ! 
 And to heavy footsteps as they rang. 
 From her fond trance the mourner sprang. 
 And at the sight of sullen Mawd, 
 Shudder'd as if by guilt o'eraw'd. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Yet, tho' their tempers were at strife, 
 
 She never had, in former life, 
 
 From Mawd recoil'd with fear — 
 
 Tho* now she shook like the hunted deer ! 
 
 Ah loveliness ' thine air serene. 
 
t AN 10 1. A CORN.ISH ROMANCE. 49 
 
 Thy simple blush, thy pensive mien, 
 Do they accord with pride and spleen ? 
 But ill assorted, from the first, 
 Together had they seldom play'd, 
 As frolic led their infant hours 
 Down sunny lane, thro' hedgerow-shade ; 
 Or pluck'd, in green mead, pearled flowers 
 While drops the petals did depress ; 
 Or cuU'd from brook the cooling cress ; 
 Or, pleasant to impatient thirst, 
 • The sorrel sought when all was parcht. 
 Thro' glades by summer-blooms enarcht; 
 Or from their palms the rivule t quafF'd; 
 Or caught," perhaps, a dancing straw 
 ' The stream did to its eddy draw. 
 And carol'd to that straw, and laugh'd ! 
 Yes ! where in childhood deftly meet 
 Health rosy-fresh, and temper sweety 
 Ere yet the world a bud doth blight. 
 Each gambol tells, the heart is light. 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
50 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, ganto i 
 
 E'en in their shouts the Rhodian boys, 
 Meek tho' her unobtrusive mind, 
 Could little Isabel have join'd, 
 And mix'd in all their vernal joys; 
 Hailing, herald of the spring, 
 The first dear swallov^'s airy wing. 
 Far other, Mawd. The cheerful morn 
 To her was clad in murky weeds ! 
 And, if she met a floret gay 
 Snapt from its stem, or rudely torn, 
 Full soon its withering shreds 
 Mark'd out her lonesome way l 
 The beetle did she love to greet, 
 And on her bodkin's point impale, 
 And of its house despoil the snail ; 
 And, as the girl her aves said, 
 Qft did the turf attract her feet, 
 If with the crackling race o'erspread ; 
 -And, with alternate fall and tread, 
 Stamped was the sod, and dropp'd a bead ! 
 
CAVTO r. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 5i 
 
 Then could she deem the herald dear 
 That sweetly told the spruiging year ? 
 No ! — whilst beside the chapel dim 
 (Casting devotion to the sky, 
 If father Nicholas w^ere nigh) 
 She measur'd out— no seraph strain ; 
 Oft would she aim, enragVl, to arrest. 
 The twitterers that disturbed her hvmn, 
 Brisk as they circled round the fane, 
 Or tear away the.ir cloystral nest. 
 Nor did that viciousness disgrace 
 Her form, or lineaments of face. 
 Eyes, in petrific torpour cold, 
 (Unless a sudden glare 
 Did burst of angry passion speak) 
 Thq mole that etch'd a sallow cheek, 
 And red thin locks of frizzled hair — 
 Say, was one trait to truth incUn'd, 
 One, unrepulsive nor unkind, 
 Nor mark of a distorted mind ? 
 VOL. I. F 2 
 
3'2 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto r. 
 
 Lo, to each dire prediction true, 
 To age mature the damsel grew. 
 
 Still, as of marble or of clay, 
 
 'i 
 Her eyes seeni'd quench'd without a ray. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 i\las ! Lady Alice dead and gone, 
 
 Could no grief melt those orbs of stone ? 
 
 Half-bowing, and Isabel brushing by, 
 
 On her pendent cross she squinted her eye, 
 
 And beckon'd the Prioress up to her seat, 
 
 And father Nicholas, full meet^ 
 
 (His garb of sanctity put on) 
 
 To sympathize with fiend or nun ! 
 
 Tall was his figure, stern his air ; 
 
 His visage furrowed, as if there ran 
 
 Along its deep lines, pale and wan. 
 
 All that malignant is in man, 
 
 Leaving the- dregs to blacken there ; 
 
 While cuoning with ferocity 
 
 Sat brooding in his gloomy eye. 
 
CANTO r. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 63 
 
 And Isabel ! for dames and sires 
 In whom still *' liv'd their wonted fires," 
 Ah I what a dread exchange was thine ! — 
 That Monk, so harbouring dark design, 
 And that hoar Prioress Jacqueline ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 Ah ' Jacqueline ! — not arm'd with switch 
 And mumbling curses, shrivel'd witch 
 Did e'er awaken such dislike, 
 Or as thy frown, with terror strike ! 
 They said indeed, (and all believ'd 
 That death would shroud her up unsbrievM^ 
 Her form was shadowless J 
 Still Lady Alice (ah too good 
 Herself, to fear in others fraud) 
 Was her indulgent patroness 
 Whilst undissolved her nunnery stood ; 
 And midst the nunnery-walls carest, 
 Matilda (sobaptiz'd was Mawd) 
 vol. I. F 3 
 
54 PAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto i, 
 
 A babe, was trusted to the breast 
 Of a creature of the Prioress^ 
 But soon reclaim'd to Tamar-stream. 
 Yet Mawd in temper and in face 
 So like old Jacqueline did seem, 
 And so unlike the Edgcumbe race, 
 Strange things, in malice or in sport, 
 I'he tongue of satire did report. 
 
 XXIX. 
 Thus, mid these spirits by sad constraint 
 As sate dejected Isabel, 
 Xho' in her features all the saint 
 Had resignation pictur'd well { 
 Sudden, he> who whilom Strang 
 To old romance his traveled harp, 
 (A panel sliding back) appear'd 1 
 His placid look, his silver beard, 
 Those tones which so divinely rang— 
 Say, could they soothe reflexion sharp 
 
CANTO I- A CORNISH ROMANCE. 55, 
 
 In minds unconscious of a ray 
 
 Of heavenly, light, as flow'd the lay ? 
 
 XXX. 
 SONG. 
 1. 
 
 *' In camps and castles, now grown gray^ 
 I have pass'd many a minstrel day ; 
 And peasant cots and cabins low 
 Once found me poor, and kept me so ! 
 But, from my prime to wintery age, 
 Pleasant hath beea my pilgrimage — 
 For I have hail'd, where-e'er I went^ 
 My fellow-men, benevolent ! 
 
 2. 
 
 If I approach'd the mansion proud, 
 Whose scutcheon'd front o'eraw'd the crowd 
 And ermin'd pomp drew every gaze, 
 The cloth of gold, the diamond blaze ; 
 
5e FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto i. 
 
 Whether in hall or lady's bower, 
 I harp'd away the blithsome hour ; 
 In smiles, at tilt or tournament, 
 I read each heart — benevolent ! 
 
 3, 
 
 If, as amidst a pause from war 
 Pavilion'd valour beam'd afar, 
 And unicorn or fleur-de-lis 
 Wav'd in armorial blazonry, 
 I swept the strings, in festal state 
 Where canopied the leader sate. 
 Or charm'd the soldier's humbler tent- 
 Still was each voice — benevolent ! 
 
 4. 
 
 Where tabors wak'd the evening dance 
 As rang the vine-clad hills of France,. 
 Oft have I join'd the social cheer 
 That gaily crown'd the purple year ' 
 Oft have I seen the village train 
 The red-rich flask rejoicing drain j 
 
A CORNISHT ROMANCE. 5 8 
 
 Welcom'd in every face content; 
 Haii'd every look — benevolent !" 
 
 The old mm, shuddering on her couch, 
 Betray'd such fears as guilt avouch ; 
 And the dark Confessor iook'd round, 
 Revolting as from every sound ; 
 When thus again the veteran B.trd, 
 Eyeing the groupe vvith arch regard: 
 
 (Song concluded J 
 
 5. 
 
 ** Yet hath the cross with influence kind 
 Man's native charity refin'd ; 
 And Lid it sheathe the warriom-sword, 
 Inform the peasant and his lord ^ 
 Breathe from the heart a purer sigh, 
 And gild the tear in beauty's eye i 
 Then were not priests in mercy sent f 
 And are not nuns — ^benevolent ?" 
 
^7 TAfR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, caih-o i. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The wintery sun had sunk to rest: 
 
 A glow yet linger'd in the west. 
 
 And high amidst that western glow, 
 
 Brighten'd the crescent moon to throw 
 
 Thro' the glimmering of the day, 
 
 A silver, solitary ray. 
 
 The'air in dim transparence cold, 
 
 A pause of stillness seem'd to hold : 
 
 And, as the horizon's frosty blue 
 
 In crimson radiance flush'd anew, 
 
 The ivy, that its meshes flung 
 
 O'er shafts and clustering panes, and clung 
 
 To the chapel's northern wall, 
 
 Fell, deepening like a funeral pall. 
 
 XXXII. 
 It was within this wall was laid 
 Amid the charnel shade, 
 (Tis but a vault can grandeur claim !) 
 
CANTO 1. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 59 
 
 The Lady Alice's mortal frame. 
 Contiguous to the wall, a tomb 
 Fast re-ceding into gloom 
 Scarce could the eye discern. 
 There Isabel, her loss to mourn, 
 Lean'd, for a while in sorrow mute ; 
 And now, preluding to her lute 
 Low tones (as ere the throstle's trill, 
 Faint whisperings breathe from dale or hill) 
 Bade the dulcet measure flow, 
 To lull the throbs of filial woe. 
 
 XXXIIL 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 <* Dear to the soul of her who grieves 
 The lute's lov'd tones melodious part ! 
 
 Each soft and liquid cadence leaves 
 A sweetness lingering o'er the heart. 
 
60 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, ca>to ;. 
 
 2. 
 
 •But wl>en we feel the expression lost 
 In the rude winds, we grieve again; . 
 
 In that cold pause lamenting most 
 That all the muse's aid was vain. 
 
 3. 
 
 In vain, alas ! would every air 
 Responsive to my vocal breath, 
 
 Its sorrows to my parent bear 
 
 Along the dull drear vault of death. 
 
 4. 
 Yet, could I deem, dear parted friend ! 
 
 Could deem thy spirit hovering nigh, 
 That thought to every chord would lend 
 
 Delight — a charm to every sigh. 
 
 5. 
 
 Then should I think my wild notes sweet 
 Tho' to the gale that chills me, giv'n, 
 
ci^TOU A CORNISH ROMANCE. &1 
 
 In trembling symphony would meet 
 
 Wafted by thee, the harps ot Heaven !" 
 
 There was no want of tnikling lute, 
 Whilst, its feebler strings to suit> 
 Her soul was in each touching tone — 
 Her every accent, nature's own. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But, ere the last note died, 
 
 •* Beware that vault ! Begone !'* 
 
 A voice she heard, tho* form was none. 
 
 Again — '' That vault — that vault beware 1*' 
 
 It said : and somewhat seem'd to glide 
 
 Half-visible, into empty air 
 
 Vanishing. Pale fancy's sprite 
 
 So glides, and so eludes the sight. 
 
 ' XXXV. 
 As if to fly impending wrath, 
 She hasten'd, by a shorter patJi, 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
62 FAm ISABEL OF COTEIIELE, canto i; 
 
 ^nd reach'd, where black an ancient yew 
 
 Across the armoury-window threw 
 
 Its ominous boughs. Sullen and sad 
 
 Murmur' d a sound thro' all its shade , 
 
 Now rustling, where she enter'd, crept j 
 
 Now rising, the cold armoury swept. 
 
 Sudden, along the lofty wall, 
 
 On many a warriour-ghost to call, 
 
 The morion clank'd ; and hoarselier sigh'd 
 
 The mail that sabre-stroke defied ; 
 
 And shook the spear, that had made sport 
 
 On the plains ^t Azincourt; 
 
 And sobb*d the corslet to the shield 
 
 That had drunk blood in Cressy's field. 
 
 XXXVL 
 
 Isabel, with hurried gaze. 
 Thro' the wreathed window high. 
 Beheld the thin clouds scattering fly 
 Across the ruffled sky, 
 
•ANTOT. A CORNISH romance: «5 
 
 And, thro their fleecy fragments white, 
 A smokevyfiery hght; 
 When, quick as vision traii'd afar 
 And, shooting to the earth its blaze. 
 Burst into, myriad sparks, a star. 
 
 xxxvir. 
 
 ** Hark to the voices in the blast ! 
 
 *' See — see that spirit — thy sire — it pass'd 
 
 *' On the careering cloud ! 
 
 *' It is his winding sheet ' his shroud !'* 
 
 She thought, she saw a lifted cowl ; 
 
 She thought, she saw a demon-scowl 1 
 
 "What means" — (she cried) "for mercy 
 
 say!" 
 A gleamy figure sank away. 
 
 VOL. I. G 2 
 
^ FAIRISABEtrl^.COTEHELE, cAN'f*'r. 
 
 Conclusion to Canto Jirst. 
 
 1. 
 
 Yes ! whether mossy karne, or grey-stone 
 chque, [round and round> 
 
 Where gleam'd the spectral moon-dance 
 Or the deep wood, where slaughter plied 
 its work, 
 That, in a visionary shade embrown 'd. 
 To destiny and dire Astarte frown'd ; 
 Or, whether (eist instinct with Heaven'* 
 own ray 
 To heal with blessed influence every 
 wound) [may; — 
 
 The cross o'er millions scatter wild dis- 
 Still sacred fraud and power have led man- 
 kind astray. 
 
CAMW f. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 65 
 
 2. 
 
 Still flinging tenfold shadows over truth 
 (Whose orb how seldom uneclips'd ap- 
 pears) 
 Hath monkish artifice spread deadly ruth ; 
 And, wakening up our fondest hopes and 
 
 fears, 
 Bid us in terror walk, or droop in tears 1 
 Still masqued in mummery, specious in pre- 
 tence. 
 Hath it embitter'd all that life endears ; 
 And, daring its own sanctions to dispense, 
 In mysteries dark involv'd parental Provi- 
 dence. 
 
 3. 
 
 Ah ! where but erst domestic comfort smiPd^ 
 How oft impending from the pitchy cloud, 
 
 Hath superstition o'er her mourning child. 
 
 Flung, with fell arm, her pale sepulchral 
 
 shroud ! 
 v©L. I G 3 
 
€5 PAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cAvre i 
 
 If, firm of soul where phantoms scare the 
 
 crowd, 
 
 The high possessoi' of yon' castled towers 
 
 To sable cowls hath not obeisant bow'd ; 
 
 1/ the fair maid hatli claim'd her conscious 
 
 hours, [up the bowers. 
 
 Still pleasure shrinks its plume, nor love lights 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 IKTRODUCTIOjr TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 
 I. 
 
 In x\i'thur's age, when, Chivalry ! thy flame 
 
 Impetuous rail from w*imor-breast to breast 
 
 When love, in^puin^^ each adventurous aim, 
 
 Polish 'd the heroic lance, and pium'd the 
 
 crest; [guest 
 
 When high carousals gave the knightly 
 
 To blazon many a d^^Oi to valour dear ; 
 
 'Twas then, on every action was imprest 
 
 Some stamp of more than mortal hope or 
 
 fear; [muttering seer. 
 
 And virild tlie wizard danc'd, or scowl'd the 
 
7# INTRODUCTIOM. 
 
 11. 
 
 If he, whose blade mow'd down the embat- 
 tled Held, ^ [flight;, 
 Thro' heaps of carnage urg'd the foemaii's. 
 Twas magic tempered his effuigeht shield— 
 The enchanter's car hung glorious o'e^ 
 the fight ! [quish'd knight, 
 Weak from his wounds if sank the van* 
 Delicious dews his fiiiming sense restored, 
 ' And airy curtains sai^d his slumbers Hghtj 
 Transfix'd, if he feii breathless, his dread 
 sword [ocean roar'd 1 
 Was caught into mid Heavten, rocks echoed, 
 
 IIL 
 
 If in a waste of sighs the enamour'd chief 
 Told his fond passion to the unpi tying 
 maid ; 
 
 From viewless beings lo ' he sought reliefj 
 Some kind elf whispering thro' the 
 
 i charmed shade ! 
 
INTRODITCTIOIT. ^ *P1 
 
 Whilst for her raven hair a roseate braid 
 Mid the soft gloom aerial fingers wove < 
 
 If beauty's melting blush his vows repaid, 
 
 Ah ! borne away on wings that scorch'd the 
 
 grove, [vish'd love ! 
 
 And clos'd in chamber drear, he rued his ra- 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Twas then its surge the north's dark ocean 
 flung, (scal'd 
 
 O'er rough Hntagel's ramparts, yet un- 
 By any mortal wight, and wildly rung 
 Thro' all its island caverns ; nor avail'd 
 The arrowy flights where Merlin proud- 
 ly sail'd, [mien ! 
 And tower'd along the cliff the unearthly 
 And other Uthers still their Merlin 
 haii'd. 
 To other fair Igernes, all unseen, 
 Gliding in secret guise where smil'd their 
 elfin queen. 
 
13 mTRODlTCTION, 
 
 V. 
 
 'Twas then if ijevel'd earl or Cornish princ* 
 Where Trematoun, deep-moated, rose 
 sublime , [to evince^ 
 
 The enchanter's horn, some fair one's faith 
 Or sudden to detect her covert crime — • 
 That horn went round, the sport of bar- 
 dic rhyme ! [mighty keep, 
 'Twas then where frown'd Dunheved's 
 (Vast massy pile to mock the power of 
 time) 
 Some giant grim lay lock'd in witched sleep. 
 And hissing dragons watch'd the immeasu- 
 rable sweep. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Amid such scenes, that all in hues array*d, 
 By fond credulity delusive glow'd, 
 
 The haunted tower, the faery -featur'd glade; 
 Lo, terror saw the necromancer's rod 
 Smite, sacrilegious smite the shrines of 
 God! 
 
INTRODUCTION. ^3 
 
 And, dipt alas I in azure-tinctur'd flame 
 
 The red-cruss tremble in the saint's abode; 
 And, in thecleansing basin's holy gleam 
 ViewVl with unchristian eyes, "the spirit of 
 the stream 1" 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEIIELE, 
 
 A COENISII ROMs^iNCE, 
 
 • CANTO SECOND. 
 
 VOL. I. H 2 
 
€]^e fait 3!0abel of Cotei^ele, 
 
 J CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO SECOND. 
 I. 
 
 XT was a mild and open day ; 
 And warm was the meridian ray, 
 And rich upon Cotehele's calm tower. — 
 Amidst December-frowns was rare 
 An azure heaven so still and fair : 
 But we distrust the treacherous noon, 
 And feci its smile must vanish soon, 
 
 VOL. J H 3 
 
75 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ji 
 
 Where all in sky and glen and bower 
 Is gentle as the summer-hour. 
 
 II. 
 
 Up to the bulwarks, green 
 
 In softer swell, the park was seen. 
 
 As it sloped round with ample sweep ; 
 
 ^ave, where now in shadow deep, 
 
 Open'd, low-arch'd, a postern-door, 
 
 To a white marble floor 
 
 That autumn's leafy wreck 
 
 Had ting'd with many an oozy streak. 
 
 IIL ' 
 
 Thence, to a path a wicket led 
 Where ancienl laurels, overhead. 
 Flung wide their long-leav'd branches high^ 
 Green in perennial majesty ! 
 Grouped the southern bastion near, 
 Stalk'd an old stag amidst the deeir; 
 
«ANTO lu A CORNISH ROMANCE. 79 
 
 And his beamjr frontlet white 
 
 Shone~ for a nrioment dazzling-bright. 
 
 As aloft his antler-boast 
 
 To the sun he exulting toss'd : 
 
 And the spotted fawns in many a maze 
 
 Frisk' d thro' the noontide blaze. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Circling the castle-walls and park 
 With shades for generations dark, 
 Above, from the hill's rocky brow, 
 And from the shelving grounds below', 
 A march of woodland rang'd afar — 
 Extensive trees of various height! 
 But oaks, to strike the wondering sight. 
 Their extravagant arms outstretched 
 Wildly thro' the waves of air — 
 Oaks — to whose ambitious tops 
 The inferior grove were lowly copsCy 
 As in browa vigour whole, or white 
 
80 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELK, cANr(^ n. 
 
 In sapless age, they reach'd 
 The ethereal canopy ! 
 So that embosomed all in oak, 
 To the distant traveller's eye, 
 The lordly mansion broke. 
 
 V. 
 
 In better days, when nature wore 
 
 To her a universal smile, 
 
 When not the young roe frolick'd more ; 
 
 Isabel, with airy feet 
 
 Skimm'd the conspicuous park, to greet - 
 
 A flower, a plant, a lady-bird — 
 
 No envious demon seen or heard ; 
 
 And vaulted o'er the parkway stile -, 
 
 And, heedless by what eye pursued, 
 
 Danc'd, or saunter'd down the Avopd. 
 
 But now, one little hour to seize, 
 
 Stealing"" amidst the laurel-'trees, . . . . 
 
 She had soon pass'd a sunny glade, 
 
 And strait was veil'd by forest-shade t 
 
CANTO If. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 81 
 
 To visit l;ier neglected cave 
 
 That overbrow^d the Taiiiar-wave. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Rugged with fibrous roots and flint, 
 
 The dimwood footpath downwards hent, 
 
 And wound where baches spirM above, 
 
 Or wander'd thro' an eliliy grove, 
 
 Or darlibn'd t6'4 beechert screen, 
 
 While mountain. ashes peep'd between. 
 
 There were no blooms ; no verdure bright. 
 
 No scions that love vernal light i 
 
 No lithe ash -spray that whispering waves 
 
 The soft green of its feathery leaves. 
 
 Yet polisht stems of silver hue, 
 
 The browner bark^ where ivy threw 
 
 Its tendrils, and its tdpmost rings 
 
 Clasp'd the young shoots with deadly stings . 
 
 The oak-lelaf, tawny in decay ; 
 
 And, weetless of the winter's rage, 
 
82 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cavtg ri. 
 
 Hollies that gave their green to aspire 
 Without a prickle to the sky, - 
 As in negligent attire 
 They grew with growing years more gay 
 And smoothed their wrinkles in old age ; 
 And pale the birch's purplish dye ; 
 And firs that duskier lift their crests 
 Proud as they boast'unfading vests — 
 Bade, round the steep, the pathway flints 
 • Gleam thro' diversity of tints • 
 
 VII. 
 And shone (tho' whilom from below 
 Shut out by the full summer-flow 
 Of lavish leaves) the river's course ; 
 Its gentler tide, its torrent-force ; 
 Here, flashing in a sudden break; 
 There soften'd, a long silver streak ; 
 Here, chequer'd by a gliding sail { 
 There glimmering but in glimpses pale i 
 
<iANTOir. . A C0|INI9«I ROMANCK. 90 
 
 As seen hard by, or view'd afar 
 Mid bosky dingle, lawn or lair. 
 
 viir. 
 
 Turning abrupt, the o'ershadow*<i path 
 Descends, where in a rock beneath 
 A wide-scoop'd cavern yawns. Far down 
 From the cave's entrance, lichens brown 
 Encnist the limerock's chasmed side — 
 Its broad base wash'd by Tamar's tide. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Dear was this cave to Isabel-— 
 Secluded as the nunnery -cell, 
 Or as the silent hermitage^ — 
 Dear was this cave from infant age. 
 Here might, in sooth, the hermit gray 
 His quiet rosary I6ve to say. 
 
S4 FAIR ISABEI. OF COTEHELE, canto ik 
 
 X. 
 
 And more did she the cavern prize ; 
 As (when the red-rose and the white 
 Fiar'd oixiinous to decide in fight 
 Of many a house the destinies) 
 Her great grand$ire had nigh this spot 
 Eluding his pursuers shot, 
 (While the copse deepen'd as to wrap 
 His hody in a denser gloom) 
 Dash'd to their seeming in the wave — 
 They heard the plunge ; and his floating cap 
 Sure signal of immersion gave — 
 1 he inscription on his watery tomh ! 
 Aijd when fierce swords again were sheath'd 
 And with the peaceful olive wreath'd, 
 . He lear'd, at the cavern-rock, 
 A fiibric that his praises spoke. 
 Nor shall to ages speak in vain — 
 He lear'd the raonumentai fane ! 
 
CANTO II. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 8^ 
 
 XL 
 
 From the cavern's roof, a rill 
 
 Did rippling in pure drops distil ; 
 
 Tho' late its trickling paus'd, to emboss . 
 
 In silent ice, the virid iiioss. 
 
 Now fluid, half-way-down, it curl'd, 
 
 And-in the fretted rockstone puri'd, 
 
 To bid its restless whirling wear 
 
 An alabaster basin there ; 
 
 Thence briskly bubbled, to overflow 
 
 And tinkle on the floor bciow ; 
 
 And, parted into many a thread, 
 
 Where shaggy tufts the chasm o'erspread, 
 
 Long, ere it reachM the river's course, 
 
 Expended all its pigmy force, 
 
 As in soft dews and milky spray 
 
 It froth'd its little life away. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
86 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto h, 
 
 XIL 
 
 Wild o*er the cave the sweet woodbine 
 Had lov'd in amoious folds to twine : 
 And tho' the jasmine, which its stars 
 Erst twinkled to favonian airs, 
 Weak and leafless, shrank from sight, 
 Tlie myrtle revel'd in the light. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And what at this uncertain hour 
 Was to the pensive Isabel 
 The sweetest pleasure of her bower? 
 The sunbright rill, the jasmine flower, 
 1 he myrtle-bloom she valued well. 
 For not alone, she bade the rill 
 Down the cavern-roof distil ; 
 And not alone, the myrtle blow,. 
 Or jasmine wink its stars below. 
 And she could paint, as memory's spell 
 Did all her soul to love attune, 
 Midst icy rigours, genial June. 
 
CANTO n. A CORNISfl ROMANCE. 87 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But, hovering o'er her woodbines wild, 
 Had fonder dreams her grief beguil'd. 
 The summer-nests that still were seen 
 Tho' arid now, or dusky green,— 
 Ah ! crept not from one summer-nest 
 Something like tremour to her breast ? 
 And lo I that moment flitting by, 
 And (now less diffident and shy) 
 Glancing back his lively eye — 
 Say, was the httle trembling wren 
 That flies so far the haunts of men 
 To huddhng brook and gloomy glen. 
 Yet seem'd to seek her former care™ 
 Say, was he an intruder there ? 
 
 XV. 
 
 There Isabel nor tried to suit 
 
 Her voice to dulcet strings, that mute 
 
 Now slept in her suspended lute ; 
 
 VOL. I. I 2 
 
88 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto u 
 
 Nor utter*d word ; but sigh'd distress, 
 And gazing long, stood motionless ; 
 Nor heeded Jesse's presence nigh ; 
 Nor ask'd for Jesse's sympathy ! 
 Yet both were roving, sooth to say, 
 In fancy the same faery Way, 
 
 XVI. 
 
 * Six moons ago (thought Isabel) 
 
 We fondly hail'd our favourite cell. 
 
 These tendrils were our mutual care ; 
 
 My Edward look'd with pleasure there. 
 
 Ah, perish'd is their purple hue ! 
 
 And shall sweet hope thus perish too ? 
 
 That moss by. parching winter drie(J — - 
 
 Young joy thus withering died "! 
 
 Yet doth it still adorn my bovver, 
 
 Pale relic of a precious hour ! 
 
 It was on that enehanthig eve, 
 
 When village-ghosts their churchyards leave 
 
CANTO li. A CORNISH ROMANCE. «9 
 
 To visit each enamour'd maid, 
 And give to fear the deepening shade, 
 lie bade the adieu to memory dear — 
 His voice still vibrates on my ear !' 
 
 XVIL 
 
 But Jesse's were far softer sigTis ; 
 And sparkled her youn^ hazel eyes ; 
 Tho' seriousness v^oiild intervene. 
 And lightly cloud the smiling scene 1 
 O'er ail that night of pleasing pain 
 She wander'd back, in thoudit arain. 
 When, tranc'd in momentary swoon, 
 ^he rose and shriek'd to the glimpsing moon^ 
 Yet, flio'' she own'd misgiving fear, 
 And her eye was dimm'd with a frequent 
 
 tear ; 
 Yet hope vouchsaf'd a gladd'ning rav, 
 And fancy chas'd each tear :away \ 
 
 Vol. I I 8 
 
90 FAIR ISABEL OF CO TEH ELE, cANto i.i. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Sudden, the stilly trees between, 
 (As first the rolling fog is seen) 
 From the distant woodland broke 
 And strait aSpir'd a cloud of smoke. 
 
 * Whence could the vapoury volume rise ?' 
 I'hought Jesse, kindling with surprize, , 
 And listening with attentive ear — 
 
 * Perhaps, of him I yet may hear.' 
 
 For she had ask'd, with eager eye, s. , 
 Of every stranger passing by. 
 Each <3ay, and almost every hour, 
 
 * l£ any seaman to the howcY 
 
 *,A mile just off, by Tamar's side, 
 « Had shot his shallop o'er the tide ?' 
 
 Again she glanc'd o'er all the scene,. 
 Thro' her dark eyelashes 1 ween, 
 And winc'd and blush'd, and smiling arch 
 Decided on a wildwood march : 
 And nimbly |lid she go, like fa^ery, 
 Her form so slender, small and airy, 
 
CANTO H. A CORNISH ROMANCE. n 
 
 And, ere an eye could note her flight, 
 Like faery, vanish'd from the sight. 
 
 XIX. 
 Soon Jesse deem'd her trip was vain ; 
 For she had ahnost sprung amain 
 Where jabber'd a rude gipsey-train. 
 From out their tent the cranehke neck. 
 The sunburnt brow, the tawny cheek, 
 The sloeblack eye's observance keen. 
 Plump boys, and wrinkled hags were seen. 
 But one, in tattered garments drest 
 Limping, advanced before the rest ; 
 Her broad hat o'er her features flap t--- 
 With a scarf her head profusely wrapt, 
 
 XX. 
 
 •* My pretty nymph — God bless thee well !'* 
 *^ My mistress waits beyond the dell V'^^ 
 
«f FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, tAKTOii, 
 
 ^' Sweet girl ! togetherwill we go !'* 
 The fe;*r-struck Jesse whisper'd — "No !** 
 But, the crone followed, (tho' before 
 Her crutch she appear'd bending o'er) 
 And cross'd, as fleets a shadowy gleam, 
 The old pine-bridge that arch'd the oUeanv; 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Panting and breathless Jesse reach'd 
 
 The cavern, and her arms outstielch'd 
 
 As if imploring aid : 
 
 But Isabel, left all alone, 
 
 Wist not, that Jesse had been gone 
 
 And started fiom her sudden shade* 
 
 XXIT. 
 '^^ Nymph of delight 1 hold out thy palm ! 
 (The gipsey cried) *' I giv^j thee balm 
 "** To quiet -every lovesick quaka i 
 
CANTO II. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 93 
 
 " Come, let me read those mystic lines — 
 " Ah ' thy assenting blush inclines I 
 " For pleasure thou art born, I trow I 
 ^* Then lovely maid ! why tremble so ?** 
 
 XXIII. 
 Stillmore with heightened colour blushing, 
 A deeper dye her bosom flushing. 
 As in the sunblaze yet more bright 
 The rich carnation drinks the ii^ht, 
 She bade her rural muse impart 
 A strain to try tiie gipsey's art. 
 
 XXIV. 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 *< O tell me, why by day, O tell me why by 
 
 night [sight? 
 
 'Tis only one sweet flower is pleasant to mj 
 
§4 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ii. 
 
 Unless 1 see the rose, by day 1 waste and 
 
 weep ; [sleep. 
 
 Unless I see the rose, by night I cannot 
 
 2. 
 
 If down the dale so green, 1 cast my wishful 
 
 eye, 
 'Tis .barren aU and dark, if I no rose espy : 
 If on the shadowy wood the moon so soft re. 
 
 pose, 
 I do not love her light unless I sec tlie rose,. 
 
 3. 
 
 If in my visions wild, I wander o'er the sea^ 
 Tho* curl the tranquil tide, it is not calm to. 
 
 me — [roses strew : 
 
 Till now some faery power the expanse with 
 Then smoothed is every surge o'er oceajx 
 
 heavenly-biuc.. 
 
«*Nto II. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 55 
 
 4. 
 
 Tho' nigh some foundering ship I view the 
 sea-wralth's form, [the storm; 
 
 As to the whids he shrieks, and lashes up 
 All into peace is hush'd ' — for lo, my crim- 
 son leaves [blushing waves. 
 Scatter'd by gentle sprites; glance o'er the 
 
 5. 
 
 "then tell me why by day, O tell me why by 
 night, [iDy sight ? 
 
 'Tis only that sweet flower is pleasant to 
 
 Unless I sec the rose, by day I waste and 
 weep 1 [sleep! ' 
 
 Unless I see the rose, by night I cannot 
 
 XXV. 
 Expiring the last note, at once . 
 The gipsey sang, in sweet response : 
 
96 FAIR ISABEL OF* COTEHELE, canto u, 
 
 SONG. 
 1. 
 
 <* I knew a maiden, a brunette 
 
 The cottag'd Tamar's pride ; 
 Her glossy locks were black as jet ; 
 
 Her eyes with the day-star vied. 
 To her was mid-summer full dear — 
 Its evening how blended with pleasure and 
 fear. 
 
 2. 
 
 It was on that thrice-hallowed eve, 
 When the haunted hour drew nigh, 
 
 Her growing terror to relieve, 
 She did talk to herself and sigh I 
 
 The church-clock was ready to tell thro* 
 tlie gloom, [was come ! 
 
 That the moment of spectres, pale midnight 
 
 3. 
 
 To hasten from beneath the thatch 
 Where twinkled her light of rush. 
 
pA.NTO n. A CORNISH EOI^IANCE. 97 
 
 With a shaking Hand she upUfted the latch. 
 
 Arid, gliding by the hawthorn bush, 
 The church-yard she reached, and she hung 
 on the yew [rous or true. 
 
 What would say, if her sailor were treache- 
 
 4. 
 
 Her orpine on the yew she hung, 
 And look'd with a fearful eye : 
 
 But chain'd in silence was her tongue, 
 And pent in her bosom the sigh : 
 
 And, blancht in the beam of the glittering 
 north -star, 
 
 Her face — it resembled the cheek of despair. 
 
 5. 
 
 The moon now breaking thro' a cloud, 
 She ran to a recent grave : shroud. 
 
 She had heard, ere she saw him in his 
 The lover in madness rave ! 
 
 VOL, I. K 
 
93 FAIR ISABFX OF COTEHELE, canto ir. 
 
 And she kiss'd the grass-turf, and with lilies 
 
 entwin'd, [I find!" 
 
 And whisper'd, '^ So faithful my love may 
 
 6. 
 
 And last did she the charm'd seed sow; 
 
 And her quivering voice died on my ear~ 
 Ah ! scarce could it utter : *' my true love 
 
 shall mow !'* [appear, 
 
 When, shuddering as if she had seen him 
 And starting, as if from the stride of a ghost, 
 She fell on the sward, and her senses were 
 lost. 
 
 7.. 
 But if the girls my skill would try, 
 
 As from a ghost they need not start ! 
 Into their secrets as I pry. 
 
 They will not dtead a gipsey's art. 
 Every doubt it is mine, my sweet maid ^ to 
 
 compose, 
 And e'eu to unravel a dream. of the rose.'* 
 
CAMTO II. A CORNISIi ROMAxMCfc. *i» 
 
 XXYI. 
 
 Archly she cried — " If you mean me !" 
 .And dropp'd a sly half-curtcsy — 
 
 SONG. 
 1. 
 
 *' I was then, in sooth, a cottage maid, 
 Of my own shadow quite afraid^ 
 And, as I thro' ray vagaries ran, 
 I met a fine young gentleman 
 Whom some-one would rejoice to see — 
 If you mean me I 
 
 2. 
 
 But how you could sucli matters know, 
 Would puzzle the de'el to say, I trow I 
 For there was neither carle nor crone 
 Nigh the cot or the church, when the clock 
 
 struck one ! 
 O ! it is all a mystery — 
 If you mean me ! 
 
 VOL. I. K 2 
 
n)X) FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, iianto tf. 
 
 Yet, good my dame, since you can tell 
 Wliat is past and gone so well, 
 Youj sure, have power to bid me look 
 A little into fortune's book ; 
 Whatever my poor hap may be-»^ 
 If you mean me !" 
 
 XXVII. 
 1. 
 
 ^* Then let me see your pretty palm — 
 Cease, cease your fluttering fears ! — be 
 
 calm 1 
 In every line, distinct and clear, 
 I read your wishes answer'd are : 
 No curves perpiext or crost I trace — 
 TJiey are as lovely as your face. 
 
CANTO II. A COKNISH ROMANCE. lOl 
 
 2. 
 
 Last mid-summer at fall of dew, 
 Ere eVe its duskier curtain drew, 
 The rose you severed from its stem, 
 So sweet in vision and in dream ; 
 And, w th a constant maiden's care. 
 You guard it from the piercing air. 
 
 Ere morrow's dawn the shadows flee 
 Your moss-rose shall you dance to see — 
 Fragrant to meet the new-year's morn 
 To-morrow, on your bosom worn ! 
 And lo ! your lips witli kisses pi'est, 
 He plucks it from your pining breast." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Scarce paus'd the song ; when Isabel flew 
 (And wonder'd at the stupid trance 
 That had with-held her instant glance) 
 Into the gipsey's arms ! 
 
 VOL. I K 3 
 
J 02 FAJR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ix' 
 
 A lover's eye can mi'iiic geer, 
 
 Can sound deceive a lover's ear ? 
 
 No ' tho' the gipsey-strain was new, 
 
 And the crone character'd so well. 
 
 How often trembled Isabel ! 
 
 O ' it was Edward's self so true ! 
 
 He had, long gazing on her charms, 
 
 And panthig to throw off disguise, 
 
 Now bid a cadence, now a tone 
 
 Awake in her a wild surprize — 
 
 Till one sigh stamping him her own — 
 
 l^ush'd back npon her heart whole years — 
 
 His words, bis actions, wishes, tears ! 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ^' My Edward !"— *' O my life (he cried) 
 << Could I but say, my heaven-linkt bride! 
 ** By stealth I came these woods to explore, 
 " Scarce picturing such an hour ! 
 *' Tho' in my hopes I met you here, 
 
CANTO ir. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 103 
 
 " (What hope will not a lover bless !) 
 
 '' Where all to childish pastimes dear, 
 
 " And to our fond vows dearer still, 
 
 *^ Summons back bliss, and shuts out ill, 
 
 *' Eiysian happiness ! 
 
 " Yes ! tho' amid the inclement waste, 
 
 "*' Or black from rains, or hoar from rime, 
 
 " Be all the woodland ; yet we taste 
 
 " The flavour of the vernal prime. 
 
 " Our little bower of bloom still glows 
 
 " Midst naked trunks and shivering snows/* 
 
 XXX. 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 ** Ah ! . tell me why, and tell me true. 
 Why dearer is this spot to me, 
 
 Than first where balmy breath I drew 
 Far west, beside the surging sea ? 
 
104 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEIIELE^ ' canto ii. 
 
 2. 
 
 Hove my home. 'Tvvas there I playM — • 
 There gather'd, yet an infant child> 
 
 Along the be^ch, amidst the glade, 
 My glittering shells, my florets wild. 
 
 3. 
 
 1 love my home. Maternal care 
 
 Guided my little steps along : 
 I caught the last fond accent there 
 
 That quiver'd on a parent's tongue. 
 
 4. 
 
 Then tell me why, and tell me true, 
 Why dearer is this spot to me, 
 
 Ttian first where balmy breath 1 drew, 
 Far west, beside the surging sea ?'* 
 
 'Twas the first carol chunii'd tlie grove, 
 Redolent of earliest love. 
 
<A^-Te II. A CORNISH KOMANCE. lOi? 
 
 XXXL 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 *^And why to my too feeling mind 
 Is this my native place so dear, 
 
 As if it had some cliain to bind 
 In lasting links my being here ? 
 
 2. 
 
 I need not ask, 'Twas this calm scen^ 
 Witnessed ere, yet a stranger, I 
 
 Had mark'd the mazy ways of men, 
 My purest grief, my purest joy. 
 
 3. 
 
 For 'tw^as this spot on my young cheek 
 Saw the first flush of pleasure rise. 
 
 And saw, its little woe to speak. 
 The first tear dim my infant eyes." 
 
106 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto m. 
 
 XXXQ. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 ** Is there no sweeter reason, why 
 We love this chamiing sp^At So sly 
 1 read the reason ill your e J e, 
 
 My Isabel ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Fair was young life, alas ' how fair, 
 When I could greet, without a care, 
 Your budding bloom, your j jyous air, 
 M) Isabel ! 
 
 3. 
 
 When first we frisk'd in thoughtless gle^t 
 Brushing the dew-drops merrily , 
 You were a babe almost to me ; 
 
 My Isabel f 
 
 4. 
 
 But happy both in frolic play, 
 
 We laugli*d the moments wild away i 
 
•ANTo IT. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 107 
 
 And dearer still was each new day ; 
 My Isabel ' 
 
 5. 
 
 Then the coy violet did I seek, 
 Hastening your crisped hair to deck, 
 Or Strang the haws to grace your neck^ 
 My Isabel I 
 
 6, 
 
 Then would I run with nimble feet, 
 To bid the ripest strawberry meet 
 Yoiir brighter lips, yotir breath more sweet. 
 My Isabel ! 
 
 - 7. 
 
 But most — they were iirsttrain'd by you. — 
 We reared these woodbines — as they grew 
 Clasp'd in soft union, all so true. 
 
 Mv Isabel 1 
 
108 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto iv. 
 
 8. 
 
 Tho' now so shriverd, scarce we trace 
 Their pale stems at the cavern-base, 
 'Twas then we haii'd their sweet embrace. 
 My Isabel ! 
 
 9. 
 
 'Twas then, as twin'd in silky rings 
 They seem'd to whisper secret things, 
 Their honey 'd treasures left no stings. 
 My Jsabei 1 
 
 10. 
 
 ** How should we joy in such a link''! 
 You once did. say, but oft did think 
 With melting glance and artless wmk, 
 My Isabel ! 
 
 11. 
 
 And sighing all so innocent — 
 
 You sdid, you knew not what it meant \ 
 
CANT* «. A CORNISH ROMANCE, 105 
 
 But to my heart your sighing went, 
 My Isabel I 
 
 12. 
 
 *Twas, ere we parted^ sighing so. 
 We mark'd a wren flit to and frod) ki^w)^ 
 'A lid thrid our woodbines full in blow, 
 My Isabel I 
 
 13. 
 
 Lojburnisht by a sunbeam bright, 
 Her cradling moss allur'd our sight ' ■ 
 How mellow that last evening-light, 
 My Isabel ! 
 
 14. 
 Soft wai the summer-air ; the flowers 
 Breath'd incense ; and the golden hours / 
 Danc'd to delight ! What bliss was ours, 
 My Isabel ! 
 
 15. 
 Your gentle hands — their ti^embling touch — 
 
 VOL. !• L 
 
110 FAIR 1 SABEL OF COTEHELE, canto it. 
 
 The tincture of your lips — and such 
 Your witching smile — it was too much, 
 My Isabel J 
 
 16. 
 
 'Twas then from those dear lips I stoic 
 Life, more than life ! Soul mix'd witli soul' 
 Then clasping I possess'd you whole, 
 My Isabel ! 
 
 17. 
 
 'Twas in that moment, nothing loath, 
 You swore, 'twas in one breath we both 
 Swore to be true ! — a thrilling oath ! 
 My Isabell 
 
 18. 
 Ah I woven as in faery braid, 
 Yrom faithful memory ne'er shall fade, 
 The kiss, the oath, the woodbine-shade. 
 My Isabel ! 
 
CANTO II. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 1 1 1 
 
 19. 
 
 Then can't you guess the reason, why 
 We love this charming spot ? So sly 
 I read the reason in your eye, 
 
 My Isabel !" 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 ** Trifle not so — but tell me all — 
 •* What incidents Heaven bade befal, 
 '* As now six lingering moons are pass'd, 
 ** Since here we held sweet converse, last. 
 *' Already hath my fate, I guess, 
 ' My terrors and distress, 
 " Left as I am an orphan here, 
 " Already hath they met thine ear. 
 " Alas ! our bigot queen's command 
 " Bade my poor sire with armed band 
 " Speed westward as to seize his prey ! — 
 *' Hah \ — some dire ill thy looks betray !- 
 — " He linger'd, day succeeding day, 
 
 VOL. I. L 2 
 
11« FAm ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cant»h 
 
 " Dispatching heralds to excuse 
 
 " By fair pretences such delay ; 
 
 " When lo, a second niandate came, 
 
 *' That menac'd fortune, life and fame ; 
 
 " And, sudden tho' our brightest views 
 
 " My mother'^ death nov; plung'd in gloonv 
 
 ** To daily, were to court the doom 
 
 ^' Of those who disobey P' — 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 She stopp'd, and trembled. And he eriedv-- 
 * Thy sire' is safe ! I joy to say — 
 " Tho' yester was a bloody day i" — 
 When his gipsey-dress flung half aside, 
 High youth appeared in manly pride. 
 And a radiance h*om the sun, aslant, 
 Thro* sprays that veil'dthe sylvan haunt, 
 Was, on his brow, a lustrous streak, 
 A blush, on his brown glpwing cheek. 
 And (gradual beauty to unfold) 
 
cA-tTOii. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 113 
 
 On his dark eyelash, a shadowy ray 
 That languish'd as in amorous play, 
 And on his bright hair, fluid gold\ 
 But, as the breeze, his locks between, 
 Fann'd the left temple's azure vein, 
 The sunbeam toach'd a recent scar 
 Disclosed amidst the parted hair ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 •* My love !" — in pale alarm she cries — 
 And tearful met their glistening eyes. 
 O, in a stream, so soft, so bright. 
 Were mix'd the mutual rays ; 
 (Thus had they look'd in earlier days) 
 That, chain'd as by a wizard charm. 
 They shook with tremulous delight ! 
 And she forgot her ** pale alarm,'* 
 Delirious in the sweet suspense ! 
 It was a rapture too intense I 
 They totter'd both from dizziness j 
 
 VOL. I. L 3 
 
1 U FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto it. 
 
 Till, as he mark'd the faintino-'maid. 
 
 He clasp'd her waist, and sighing said : 
 
 '^ O I to relieve my love's distress, 
 
 *' And give to her fast-beating heart 
 
 '^ All that I suffer'd, all I did, 
 
 •'' Since we were doomed to part — , 
 
 ^* Ere ceas'd my story, could I bid 
 
 ^* In morrow's dawn the stars grow pale^ 
 
 ** And still protract the various tale ! 
 
 ** Long, long could I unwearied tell, 
 
 ** How Cornwall's youth, ere Calais fell, 
 
 " Still foremost where high honour calls, 
 
 *' Drove back the assailants from the wallSy 
 
 *' Nor sheathing the terrific blade 
 
 <* Still hail'd their Edward's sable shade 1 
 
 ^* But 1 must hasten to portray 
 
 ** The heroic deeds of yesterday. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Scarce wafted from a foreign strand 
 " Had I regain'd my native land, 
 
«ANToii. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 115 
 
 ** Ere on the white cliffs o'er Caerhaye^', 
 
 " I Saw the hostile beacon blaze, 
 
 " And flickering in the ghastly glare, 
 
 " The banner'd scallops wave in air, 
 
 ^* Over woodland beach and lawn^ 
 
 *' Its dusky shadows eve had drawn. 
 
 '* flut, where with light the crags were flusht, 
 
 " Up the rude beacon-rock I rush'd : 
 
 " And to my ear the torchmen told, 
 
 " How thence had sped Trev anion bold.; 
 
 *' And how the kindled beacon bade 
 
 ^' His tenant-train from hill or glade 
 
 " Pursue his steps where sylvan Glen 
 
 '* Would aid their cause with gallant men ; 
 
 " And how Sir Richard, from Cotehele, 
 
 •* Smit by queen. Mary's merciless zeal, 
 
 ** And girt with formidable force, 
 
 " To meet Trevanion bent his cours*. 
 
1 1 6 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, casto'ii 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 «' Sudden I felt a fearful chill, 
 
 *' From some presentiment of ill. 
 
 ** Sudden, I felt the coward's pang., 
 
 " As, far below me, lances rang, 
 
 '^ And bowmen their full quivers slang 
 
 « And on the cliffstone where I stood 
 
 «' Some fell magician seem'd to brood, 
 
 *' Whilst the balefire broad and red 
 
 ** Bade darkness deepen overhead, 
 
 *' Like the vast copeing of a cave, 
 
 •* And edg'd with flame the distant wave. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 *' Yet I dismiss'd my boding fear : 
 *^ And, a« a hope obscurely rose, 
 " That I might haply interpose 
 ** Between old friends and seeming foes, 
 " I headed now in martial geer 
 " Soldiers' who rival'd Scottish clan — 
 
tAjm)ii. A CORNISH ROMANCE. UT 
 
 " To whom might Scot the bonnet vail 
 ** From Yarrow-cleugh to Nithisdale ; 
 *' Whose valorous fathers claim'd the van t 
 " Then eastward strait our route began. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 ** Scowl'd the spirit of the night j 
 
 *' And it seemM to gather tenfold shade 
 
 ** And fierce amidst the flambeau light 
 
 " Swept on our cavalcade. 
 
 *' Saird tremulous on the eye St. Ewe ; 
 
 *^ And the pinnacles of old Polmear 
 
 " Shook their blasted ivy drear, 
 
 *^ And vanished from the view. 
 
 " And full displayed St. Austel-towejf 
 
 ** Fleeted away as it toll'd out one-^ 
 
 ** And St. Blazey's rock to the spectred hour 
 
 *• A moment glimpsed and the next was gone. 
 
 ** And we clatter'd nigh Tregrean, the ground 
 
 * * Where oft with hawk and horn and hound, 
 
118 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, ciiKTO it. 
 
 ** My father twanging his cross-bow, 
 
 ^' I leap'd to see the quarry laid low. 
 
 " Onward we sped ; 
 
 " And still as the dead, 
 
 " Where slept Lestwithiel's steepled towt?? 
 
 *' Impetuous down 
 
 " Thro' its hollow street 
 
 '* We descended hke the torrent sheet 1 
 
 " Breaking from the vale hard by, 
 
 " A ruin'd fortress caught the flame. 
 
 ** But again in gloom, thro' the yawning wall 
 
 " A sparkle 1 met from a fiery eye ; 
 
 ** The sparkle was lost ; and without aim 
 
 " I bade my random arrow fly ; 
 
 " Nor whistled it in vain — • 
 
 " The prowling felon fox was slain i 
 
 c' Brave omen ! cried our archers alL 
 
 *' And now, ere yet Lanhydroc's moat 
 
 ** Swam on our sight, the hills betweeii> 
 
 ** A whirlwind arose ^ 
 
QA^io n. A CORNISH ROMANCE. t f^ 
 
 And, sharp and big, its hail-bolts smote 
 •^ Our ringing armour — (dire the din — ) 
 And dash'd along the drifted snows. 
 And lo, as frightened from his lair, 
 A red stag in the flambeau glare : 
 1 saw his shadowy antler'd form 
 
 * Majestic amidst the storm ! 
 
 * It was a troublous night! 
 
 * Still we pressM on with an eagle's flight j 
 When suddenly with dread astound, 
 
 •' Our cavalry all wheeling round, 
 
 * Stood as if fasten'd to the ground. 
 
 ' In truth, it was a blaze [rays f 
 
 « That extinguish'd at once the flambeau 
 ' I heard a hissing in the blast I 
 
 O'er dreary Roche the fireball pass'd : 
 ' And its hermit-rock, with wild approach, 
 ' Seem'd as if whirl'd away from Roche ! 
 
 * Brownwilley too, primeval niass ! 
 
 * And Rowtor, as rent from its base, * 
 
i to J'AIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cahto n. 
 
 " Rush'd in an instant forth — 
 
 " Mighty crags that blend witli heaven, 
 
 " By lightnings molten oft and riven ! — » 
 
 '* Again one undistinguisht waste 
 
 '« Were the low-brow'd sky and the glim-r 
 
 mering earth — 
 *' One blackness, that did blacker grow 
 ** From the cold gleam of moorland snow. 
 
 XL. 
 
 ^' Long with sleety influence frore 
 
 ** Did the grim morn salute the moor ; 
 
 ** Tinting, on hillock, pool, or swamp, 
 
 ** The paly reeds aud rushes green, 
 
 ** As with a dubious moonlight sheen ; 
 
 " Ere our steeds with a rapid tramp 
 
 ♦« Smok'd down Glynn-dale. With shrill 
 
 war-hoop 
 *^ There had I join'd my uncle's troop, 
 '' When "yonder comes high Valetort!'* 
 " Ran thro' our ranks the pale report ; 
 
txHo 1 1. A CORNISH HOMANCE. Ul 
 
 " And, sounding its wild note, 
 
 ^* BrayM the clarion's brazen throat. 
 
 XLI. 
 ^* Full on his foe Sir Richard rode ; 
 ** And fierce the impatient charger glow'd, 
 " And neigh*d and beat each fiery hoot, 
 " As he beckon'd his lancemen to hang 
 
 back aloof! — 
 " You would have thought, in tourney-fight, 
 . " They were met rival knight mih knight. 
 ** 'Twas in a dell they seemM clos'd in 
 " Below the mansion-dome of Glynn, 
 ^* A brook, here cross'd by wooden bridgCf 
 ** To howling winter swellM its roar 
 " As it dash'd its cavern'd floor ; 
 ** And there, high-pinnacled, a ridge 
 ** Of granite all retreat denied — 
 " Deep forests darkening either side/ 
 
 vot. I. M 
 
122 FAIR 1 SABEL OF COTEHELE, canto h. 
 
 ^< There Valetort had from Glynn-dome, 
 
 " Spurr'd down the hill his steed in foam, 
 
 *' Ere yet Trevanion could emerge 
 
 " To meet him on the upland verge, 
 
 " Plung'd in the flood the war-horse white ; 
 
 *' And, dreadful as the water-sprite, 
 
 ** From out the torrent leaped, andchamp'd 
 
 ^' The burnisht bit, and pawing tramp'd 
 
 ** All of his purple housings vain ; 
 
 " And, like the meteor, stream'd his manCf 
 
 " Whilst for the battle he neigh'd again I 
 
 ** Aloft by ermin'd herald rais'd 
 
 *' The bristling boar in argent blaz'd 1 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " Scarlet and black was Trev anion's 
 
 plume, 
 " That waving wildly seem'd to spread 
 ** O'er his red-roan horse a baleful shade, 
 f* Like the faery skirts of the thunder-gloom I 
 
tANT© iL A CORNISH ROMANCE. V23 
 
 XLIIL 
 
 ** Hemm'd in between the flood and rock, 
 
 ** The chieftains, each with v^rary eye, 
 
 ** Bending poisM their spears on high, 
 
 ** And aim'd the deadly stroke ! 
 
 •* Mutual was the mighty shock. 
 
 " Rattled Trevanion's ribs of steel 
 
 •* To the stoutest weapon of old Cotehele 1 
 
 " And, tall in stature and large in limb, 
 
 *' As giant Corineus grim, 
 
 " Yet back he began to reel ! 
 
 '* When, snatching his battle-axe, the 
 
 fierce knight 
 *' From his saddle arose in all his might, 
 " And struck on the crest of Sir Richard 
 
 amain ! 
 " The casque was cleft almost in twain ; 
 *^Anddanc'd, I trow, Sir Richard's brain — 
 " We for a moment thought him slain. 
 
 VOL. I. M 2 
 
1 U FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ik 
 
 XLIV. 
 ** In vain did I a parley call — 
 " AH had rush'd in — aye, one and all ! 
 ** My voice was scorn'd, and vengeance 
 
 flashed; 
 " On either side as bi^oadswords clash'd ! 
 " And deafening were the dissonant jars 
 " Of hawbecks and of visor-bars ; 
 " And like hoar-frost, was scatter'd round 
 *' The plumage that had helmets crown'd i 
 " And flew from the troop of the westera 
 
 chief 
 '^ Of cross-bow arrows oft a sheaf; 
 '* And splinterM were spears of long tough 
 
 yew, 
 <' And iron corslets were pierc'd thro' ; 
 " And lances were shiver'd, and daggex^^ 
 
 embru'd 
 '^ In fountains of fraternal blooi! 
 
- CANTO II. A CORNISH ROjMANCE. 125 
 
 " And the brook that brawl'd thro' Glynn 
 
 was red ; [bled, 
 
 ^' And rough knarled trunks and branches 
 "As if its vital fluid broke 
 " From the heart of the forest-oak ! 
 ^' And the old wreathed roots were clotted 
 
 with gore ; 
 ^' When I heard—** Trevanion's bow- 
 men are fled ! 
 ** And many lie low to rise no more I'* 
 "And lo ! some struggled the crag to scale ', 
 " Some buffeted, from terror pale, 
 *' The stream, and struck into the glen, 
 " Or flounder 'd in the sedgy fen. 
 " His rider gone, from his nostrils a horse 
 *• Here snorted forth lightnings or trampled 
 a corse ! • 
 
 VOL. !• M 5 
 
He FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cAWfexT 
 
 XLV. 
 
 ** His teeth Trevanion gnash'd in ragCy 
 
 " As he saw Sir Richard, to engage 
 
 ** His matchless strength, again advance^ 
 
 " And couch'd his menacing lance. 
 
 " The threaten'd stroke was lost in air— 
 
 *' When Caerhayes's charger high 
 
 " Rear'd up his glittering panoply, 
 
 " Then, downwards dash'd the furious hoof. 
 
 " That moment did the knight assail 
 
 " Right-manfully Trevanion's mail, 
 
 " Where o'er the breast it clos'd : 
 
 " For lo, no longer interpos'd, 
 
 *' The guardian shield was gone, 
 
 " The mail-plates were not weapon-proofs 
 
 *' And the long lance quivering there^ 
 
 " The fierce red-roan 
 
 " O'er full two roods impetuous sprang, 
 
 ** And tumbling (as the echoes rang 
 
 ^* From within their rocky bed) 
 
CANTO ir. A CORNISH ROMANCE, i^ 
 
 ** Of limbs and armour a huge lieap, 
 
 *' Man and horse j^oll'd among tlie dea(l» 
 
 ** So tumble* and so rolls the deep ! 
 
 ** Trevanion, midst his overthrow^ 
 
 ** For an instant darted on the foe 
 
 " A look as if madness hadseiz'd his mind,. 
 
 '' Then sternly calm bis sword resiga'i 
 
 XLVL 
 
 ** 'Twas then, where I observed a priest 
 
 '' A dying man in act to shrieve^. 
 
 *^ I hasten'd, willing to assist 
 
 " (If any effort could relieve) 
 
 " A fairn antagonist. 
 
 " For I had slain that man, I fcar'4r 
 
 " Alas ! his merited reward. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " Trickt in oriental garb, 
 ^* All on a fine Arabian barb. 
 
125 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ly. 
 
 <* He had singled me out in the dire affray, 
 
 "And leap'd, as a tigress on her prey, 
 
 ** And as if in revenge, tho' my beaver w^s 
 
 down, 
 ** Had hack'd my helmet-cro'vvn \ 
 ** All as a combatant unskill'd, 
 *' A sabre was he fain to Wield, 
 ** And in my heart-blood would have 
 
 drenched ; 
 *' But the weapon from his hand I wrench'4 
 " And plung'd it in his side : — 
 " *Twas by his rashness that he died. 
 
 XLVIIL 
 " 'Twas now, his beaver all unbarr'd, 
 " His targe whilst 1 essayed to unclaspt, 
 " Ferocious that he stared, 
 " And seiz'd my hand, and wrung,-— 
 •' It was an agonizing grasp i 
 '* And faulter'd, as choakt by his last gasp. 
 
f ANTO II. A CORNISH ROMANCB. 1%$ 
 
 **' Isabel*''! feebly from his tongue ! 
 ** I had escap'd without a wound ; 
 " But chill'd by his comfortless cold moan^ 
 ** And lost to all around, 
 '* As I heard that sacred name 
 *' Which like a deathnotc came, 
 '* I was rous'd by a stab from a hand un- 
 known !*' 
 
 XLIX. 
 ' Ere Edward ceased, she started oft. 
 And deem'd a crackling thro' the trees 
 (They were unshaken by a breeze) 
 Was haply from some wandering deer I 
 Again a sound she seems to hear,^ 
 And (tho' no form she sees) 
 These were tlie folemn notes yet soft:-— 
 
190 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cavtoi/. 
 
 L. 
 SONO. 
 
 1. 
 
 ^' Where sleeps in sacred slumber steri|, 
 1 could not break the dread repos% 
 
 Of adamantine Kaliburn ! 
 
 But I have brought thee Sharon's rosf. 
 
 2. 
 
 I could nottid the magic dust 
 
 My bosom-wound fast-bleeding staunc^ 
 Nor from the charm'd sword steal its rust j{ 
 
 But I have pluck'd the palmtree branclK 
 
 3. 
 
 I could not reach the scaly blood 
 
 For ages buried from the sun ; 
 Bat I have brought thee cedar-wood. 
 
 And leaves from lofty LebanoA* 
 
CANTO II. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 181 
 
 4. 
 
 ^nd lo ! thy knight awaits tkee here 
 
 Then come, my love ! then come away 
 
 To thy devoted Palmer dear, — 
 
 Come, deck thee for the bridal day !" 
 
 LI. 
 ^ What tones are these that meet our ear > 
 " Fly Edward ! for thy life I fear ! 
 *< Go — nor thy course a moment slack, 
 •* And speed my sire's returning track ! 
 ** Fly, fly" (she cried — but ill-supprest 
 The griefs, the terrors of her breast) 
 *^ And guard thy wound i And may this 
 
 bower 
 ^* Veil in soft shade some happier hour !" 
 
 LII. 
 
 <* Yes ! I must go and haste away — 
 ** Trevanion's fate forbids my stay ! 
 
^ 154 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELB, caktoh 
 
 *< Yes ! I must go, where, death his aim, 
 
 *' The priest unfurls his oriflame 1 
 
 *' O may the pitying powers above 
 
 <* From every ill protect my love !" 
 
 He spoke — And " take (his parting eyes 
 
 Expressed) — " O take this tender pledge !'* 
 
 The motto round its golden edge : 
 
 *^PEAR NOT: FROM GLOOM AGAIN WE RTSEi 
 « LOVE LIGHTS THE W\Y TO BA LMIER SKIES4 
 
 Once more he look'd, and lost in shade, 
 To heaven resign'd his darling maid. 
 
 LIIL 
 " O ! in tkis still recess so deep, 
 " That I should deem all sunk in sleep, 
 *^ What sights and sounds, as phantoms rise, 
 ** Have struck my wildering sense ?*' — She 
 
 cries. 
 **Is it a dream ? or, have I seen 
 " In truth unchang'd my Edward's mien ? 
 
♦ANT5 ti. A CORNISH ROxMANCE. \t5 
 
 ^' And whose that voice I seem'd to hear ? 
 " O ! had illusion met my ear ! 
 ** Hark ! other sounds — Ah! what are thes^? 
 ** How gently they caress the breeze." 
 
 LIV. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 ^* In youth so full of fire, in age 
 From long experience sly or sage, 
 
 Mysteries and rites are but deceit 1 
 The votarist, in his pilgrimage — 
 
 His penances are all a cheat I 
 Some furtive sweets his heart engage — » 
 
 At Mecca's or the Virgin's shrine ! 
 Some favourite object in disguise, 
 
 Tho' he cross desarts or the brine, 
 Excites his prayers, and prompts his sighs ! 
 
 you 1. N 
 
154 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto if 
 
 2 
 
 Tho', where the fresh fount crystalline, 
 As if to emulate the vine, 
 
 Sparkles amidst the cool kiosk, 
 The guests in sober guise recline ; 
 
 Yet they who duteous hail the mosque 
 Would say, it doth not equal wine I 
 
 And, as the boon companions laugh 
 Where pleasure rears her rosy bowers, 
 
 The grape's rich juice they freely quafF; 
 Nor frowning Prophet mars their hours i 
 
 3. 
 
 Oft have 1 said — whilst caravan 
 
 Murmuring approach'd the cloyster'd khan- 
 While glanced thro' busy grave bazar 
 
 The furr'd pelisse, the yataghan — 
 While gleam'd the yellow sHpper fair, 
 
 Or, crowning sacred mussulnian, 
 
CANTO 11. A CORNISH ROMANCE. l65 
 
 Mohammed's muslin gaily green ; — 
 Some secret wish with sweet controul 
 
 Moves every mind, its springs unseen 1 
 And e'en that Emir loves the bowl ! 
 
 4. 
 
 Beneath that dome, (whose lightness seems 
 Suspended on the solar beams) 
 
 Assur'd, that many a minareh 
 Shall soon send forth effulgent streams, 
 
 The dcrvise e'en of MevlcYeh 
 May mingle moans with Fakir's dreams. 
 
 And hail the Santon's mimic trance! 
 But fleeted with the sun's last light 
 
 Are dreams and moans and maniac-dancc; 
 And tipsy joys usurp the night ! 
 
 YOU I. N S 
 
m FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto m. 
 
 5 
 
 Nor, where the Greek with saintly miea 
 Rustles behind the pictured screen 
 
 His fine silk garb, his velvet vest, 
 And bids its broidering gold, I ween, 
 
 The eye of ignorance arrest, 
 Have I sincere devotion seen ! 
 
 From crowds (that, more than pearl or gem 
 Shedding soft rays of brilliant fires, 
 
 Would prize his garment's mystic hem). 
 He to his Psyche's arms retires, 
 
 e^ 
 
 Theni or iH^^tdferit youth, dr age 
 From ' long^ experidnce s!y or sagbj 
 
 Mysteries afridrite^ arc' all dec^eit ! 
 The votarist plies his pilgrimage — 
 
 What is his penance but a cheat ? 
 Some fond pursuits his heart engage !~ 
 
*ANTO Hi A CORNISH ROMANCE. 137 
 
 At Mecca's or the Virgin's shrine 
 Some favourite object in disguise, 
 
 Tho' he cross desarts or the brine, 
 Awakes his prayers and prompts his sighs !'' 
 
 LV. 
 
 As the last words were lost, 
 
 The glimpse as of a turban'd head 
 
 Not like an air-drawn vision fled. 
 
 But with a stately march 
 
 (Where wreath'd the foliage to enarch 
 
 Its glimmering flints) the pathway cross'd ; 
 
 It was a turban lily-white 
 
 Receding slowly from the sight. 
 
 VOL, I. N 5; 
 
1 38 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE; ganto ii. 
 
 Conclusion to Canto second. 
 
 1. 
 
 Whilst, in the shackles of a barbarous age, 
 Such mad illusion sway'd the common 
 mind, - [rage ; 
 
 And error mingled with the enthusiast's 
 Say, did the priest affect to free mankind 
 From the gross bondage ^ and the chain 
 unbind ?^ 
 Ah • no — he forg'd but link to answer link^ 
 And, tho' the light of truth and nature 
 shin'd, 
 Still where deceit ailur'd to danger's brink, 
 Bade them amidst the gulf irrevocably sink^ 
 
CANTO II. A CORNISH ROMANCE* 139 
 
 2. 
 
 *Twas thus, whilst every monk a Merlin 
 
 rose, [wings. 
 
 Shadowing the noontide sun with wizard 
 And, striving but to deepen huma|j woes,. 
 Scorch'd the green woods, and dried the 
 
 water-springs ; 
 Fond love, that credulous to fiction clings. 
 Laid at the sainted shrine his charmed vest 
 Inwoven with the beards of paynim kings. 
 And savage war, with bloody trophies drest. 
 There offer'd his huge sword, his mail, his 
 magic crest. 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTIOW TO CANTO THIRP« 
 
Cl^e ifatr 3]^attl of Cotei^ele* 
 
 A CORNISH ftOMANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 
 I. 
 
 'Twas in the days, the realm when Rich- 
 ard sway'd, 
 That the Religions Spirit, whilom fed 
 By sorceries, in a wider scope display'd 
 Its fires, and kindling thro' the nations 
 spread ! [princes led 
 
 'Twas then from Europe's shoves high 
 Where infidels bore rule, their numerous 
 
 hosti 
 'Twas then the Saracen's disfeatur'd head 
 
lU iNTRODUCtlOK 
 
 Romantic virtue ! was thy proudest boast > 
 And scallop-shell or staff distinguished val- 
 our most. 
 
 II. 
 
 Knights of the sepulchre, Hwas theirs to 
 deem 
 Fading before the track of sacred iigbt^. 
 All other honours but an airy dream I 
 And, if a trophied Molesworth urg'd the 
 
 fight; 
 Or, if a Fulford rescued lady bright 
 From paynim foe that strode gigantic round ; 
 He soar'd above the tiirones otkmgs, a 
 flight 
 Of glory, with a wreath perennial crown'd 
 And swept his flaming course beyond all 
 mortal bound. 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE, 
 
 CANTO THIRD. 
 
 ■^ TOL. I, o 
 
Ci^e fair ^mtl of Coteljele. 
 
 ^ CORNISH ROMANCE 
 
 CANTO THIRD. 
 
 r. 
 
 A HE infant year now dusky, coid. 
 In the dim East came glimmering on 
 Thro' the fracture of a rock-like cloud 
 Which, as immoveable, o'erbrow'd 
 
 A dawning waste of tears, I 
 
 The melancholy knell had told 
 
 Its parent was for ever gone 
 
 Amidst departed years ! 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
M8 FAIR 1 SAB EL OF COTEHELE, caSto m i 
 
 II. 
 
 But opcn'd scarce the orient scene 
 Of boles and brake, and mournful green. 
 Which from that cloud seem'd clad 
 In yet nocturnal shade ; 
 Ere Jesse down the coppice flew. 
 To nieet, if he indeed were true, 
 Her sailor where, thro' forest-wood. 
 His cabin peep'd, by Tamar's flood. 
 
 III. 
 To lift the lid long long afraid 
 Her moss-rose had the melting maid 
 Drawn fragrant from its chest, 
 And plac'd it on her kindling breast 1 
 Tho' paler, yet its tints were fine, 
 And O 1 its essence was divine ! 
 To lull a moment every pain 
 Delicious anodyne ! 
 
cANfoiii A CORNISH ROMANCE. 149 
 
 Ah ! doubt and fear came fast again, 
 Then hope and fancy's fondest train 
 That such a fair illusion wove. 
 As if the object of her love,. 
 Already were possest 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 And was her bosoin flushed with hope, 
 As, her eye searching all the slope, 
 Slie saw some form ascending near ? 
 And did that bosom throbb with fear ? 
 How wild were her disordcrM charms^ 
 Clasp'd in her William's stialning urmb ' 
 To those dear arms had Jesse rusli'd 
 Ere, glancing where the moss-rose blush'd, 
 He pluck'd the crimson pledge of bliss, 
 And printed deep the burning kiss. 
 And press'd her panting heart to his ! 
 
 YOL. I. O i 
 
150 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cavto iii 
 
 V. 
 
 Net thus had Isabel her love 
 MurmurM to the laughing grove. 
 Strait to her chamber, y ester-eve, 
 Had she retreated from the cave. 
 And, wildering in a maze of thought, 
 Fear'd every hour with danger fraught. 
 Nor could she from that maze escape, 
 Pursu'd by many a hideous shape ; 
 When Jesse, fast as words could speak. 
 Told esiger, how a fair young Greeky 
 A Palmer^ and a reverend Friar 
 
 Had thither come in strange attire ; 
 
 Said, she had seldom seen resort 
 
 To old Cotehele, from far or near, 
 
 A guest of such a noble port 
 
 As he who did the turban wear ! 
 
 But little had poor Isabel 
 
 Heeded what flippant tongue would tell. 
 
•ANTO III A CORNISH ROMANCE. Ul 
 
 VI. 
 
 And now (whilst Jesse met her swain) 
 All in her oratory lone, 
 'Twas Isabel's to think in vain 
 O'er yester pleasure quickly flown— 
 Her love no sooner seen than gone, 
 And from the ills that mark'd her doom 
 To picture crosses yet to come ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Of parents yet a child bereft 
 Was Edward to his uncle left, 
 (Rough as the North, yet not unkind) 
 And to Sir Richard's care consign'd. 
 And many a year the orphan-boy, 
 And little Isabel had stray'd 
 Amidst Cotehele or Edgcumbe's shade. 
 Their bliss without alloy. 
 
154 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELB, cantoii 
 
 *« Yes ! I must go, where, death his aim, 
 
 *« The priest unfurls his oriflame 1 
 
 ** O may the pitying powers above 
 
 <* ttom every ill protect my love !" 
 
 He spoke — And " take (his parting eyes 
 
 Expressed) — " O take this tender pledge !'* 
 
 The motto round its golden edge : 
 
 <* PEAR NOT: FROM GLOOM AGAIN WE RISE'. 
 <« LOVE LIGHTS THE W\Y TO BA LMIER SKIES4 
 
 Once more he look'd, and lost in shade, 
 To heaven resigned his darling maid. 
 
 Liir. 
 
 " O ! in tkis still recess so deep, 
 ** That I should deem all sunk in sleep, 
 " What sights and sounds, as phantoms rise, 
 ** Have struck my wildering sense ?" — She 
 
 cries. 
 **Is it a dream ? or, have I seen 
 " In truth unchanged my Edward's mien ? 
 
•INTO tt. A CORNISH ROxMANCR 155 
 
 *' And whose that voice I seem'd to hear ? 
 " O ! had illusion met my ear ! 
 ** Hark ! other sounds — Ah! what are thes^? 
 ** How gently they caress the breeze." 
 
 LIV. 
 
 SONG. 
 1. 
 
 ^' In youth so full of fire, in age 
 From long experience sly or sage, 
 
 Mysteries and rites are but deceit ! 
 The votarist, in his pilgrimage — 
 
 His penances are all a cheat ! 
 Some furtive sweets his heart engage-— 
 
 At Mecca's or the Virgin's shrine ! 
 Some favourite object in disguise, 
 
 Tho' he cross desarts or the brine, 
 Excites his prayers, and prompts his sighs ! 
 vol., !• N 
 
15* FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, CAirro m 
 
 Proclaim^ the brindled caitiff near. 
 That, ambush'd in tlie umbrageous gloom^ 
 Might prowl ere night for living food, 
 And her gray whiskers bathe in blood. 
 And (reckless of the burnish^ blue, 
 The scarlet gloss) their feathers too ! 
 Nor ever own^d his soul dismay ; 
 Tho* hunted long the desperate prey 
 From holme to beech, from ash to oak 
 Above his head in vengeance broke, 
 And down on men and dogs impell'd. 
 Flew up again, and foam'd and yeli*d ; 
 Till now at bay, with yawning jaws 
 And bloodshot eyes and unsheath'd claws. 
 She darted, with new venom fir'd. 
 And in the huntsman flesh'd, expir'd. 
 
 X. 
 
 Yet, tho' he hied, where scented gales 
 The horn and hound entice, 
 
ciKTO III A CORNISH ROMANCE* I55 
 
 Up Steeps, o'er heaths, down hollow dales, 
 Or clambering, brav'd the precipice 
 And rock that bridg'd the hoar abyss. 
 And courting danger deem'd it bliss ; 
 Yet had he murmur'd tender talcs I 
 Yet had he trili'd the inglorious lay : 
 And early was the soft essay, 
 
 XL 
 Yes ! « many a year" with Isabel 
 •Twas his to traverse lawn and dell ; 
 Now touching animpassion'd wire. 
 Nor ought suspecting amorous fire ; 
 Beaming on her a brother's eyes— 
 And what were her's but sister-sighs f 
 
 XII. 
 But nearer and still nearer diew 
 The hour, when they must bid adieu; 
 
156 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEIIELE casto itt 
 
 The-jcalous uncle deals the blow, 
 And o'er rude seas must Edward go. 
 The hour was come. If more be meant 
 Oft in one look than words can speak ! 
 If language the most eloquent 
 Oft to one little tear be weak ; 
 Their's was the meaning, and the force — 
 Fraternal love ! how pure thy source !—- 
 
 XIII. 
 
 With little talent to foresee, 
 (Foi he had small sagacity) 
 Trevanion, bidding Edward skare 
 In old Cotehele Sir Richard's care, 
 Heard, one sad moment, with dismay 
 The girl her ave-mary's say. * 
 Rush'd on his mind, at once, the view 
 Of danger in the deadliest hue. 
 " The saints ! the virgin ! how I dread 
 ** Slow poison dropp'd with every bead I 
 
OANTam A CORNISH ROMANCE. 15? 
 
 ** And Edward will but swell the list 
 <* Of victims to the cunning priest !'* 
 
 XIV. 
 In sooth, Trevanion, bluff and brave, 
 Spurn'd mystic meanings, spurn 'd a knave f 
 There was a savage dignity 
 E'en in his mild complacent eye. 
 But, if he felt disdain or ire, 
 His shaggy eyebrows grew more dark ; 
 Curl'd was his lip ; or the kindling spark 
 Was in his eye tlie levin fire i 
 Unpolisht in his speech, his gait. 
 His every nod denouncing fate, 
 How gaunt was the old knight, and grim. 
 If passion shook each sinewy limb 1 
 But, ever and anon, he laugh'd 
 At all the wiles of priestly craft. 
 The vigils of the votarist's night, 
 The pomp of each papistic rite ; 
 
IbS FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ju 
 
 And, scorning the whole venal trade, 
 Liken'd sly nuns and specious monks 
 lb pandars and imposing punks, 
 And, at the bigot's rage inveigh'd 
 That had so foul a Iiavock made y 
 And cursed, in fine, (to whom or where 
 No matter — 'twas to him no care] 
 Striding with a ferocious mien. 
 The bloody bonfires, and their queen I 
 
 XV. 
 
 So hard their fates. And, ere eighteen. 
 Had Edward wan'd in Erin green. 
 And would that Isabel 
 Had been allow'd her griefs to tell 
 To brooks and dim shades, ail alone ! 
 Ah ! scarce was Edward gone 
 Ere suitors ftom the E'ast and West^ 
 By her cold looks how ill rcprest, 
 But chief EaiKEY'rsaintly ^on 
 
CANTO lu A CORNISH ROMANCE. 159 
 
 Presum'd in proud Ivlount Edge umbe's grove 
 Abrupt to breathe the tale of love i 
 
 XVL 
 Sprung from a race who, vers'd of yore 
 In knightly lisfs and paynim lore, 
 Mix'd with the enthusiast's glowing creed 
 The spirit of many a martial deed. 
 And had for ages won the acclaim 
 Of valour to Erizey's name, 
 Tho' late, midst priests and hooded friars 
 Had languish'd their adventurous fires, 
 He was a child of chivalry, 
 But more a monkish devotee ! 
 And, whilst to love he ofFer'd sighs 
 That might some tender bosom melt, 
 And wildly brooded o'er the emprize 
 To dazzle or delight the fair ; 
 Still would Erizey rather wear 
 The girdle than the knightly belt, 
 
 VOLt !• p 2 
 
160 FAIH ISABEL OF COTEHELE cawto in 
 
 As superstition bade incline 
 His soul to every mystic tale, 
 Enveloping v^ith holy veil 
 Xoretto's or e'en Mecca's shrine. 
 
 XVIL 
 
 Proud of his sires, and fond to paint 
 Their puissance (tho a puling saint 
 Above a soldier's worth he priz'd, 
 And thirsted to be canoniz'd) 
 He would relate how great Sir Hugh 
 The mighty Saladin o'erthrew. 
 When lion Richard's golden shield 
 Beam'd to the cross on Salem's field ; 
 And how, when they repass'd the brine, 
 Red from the plains of Palestine^ 
 To haughty Tancred Richard gave, 
 Where Sicily o'erbrows the wave, 
 (A hasty gift for aye deplor'd) 
 Jligh Artliur's necromantic sword 1 
 
tANTO HI A CORNISH RO.MANCE. 161 
 
 And there, embalm'd and buried deep, 
 How it reposM in charmed sleep ! 
 And one of old Erizey's race 
 (Such was tradition's voice, he said) 
 Would win back that efichanted blade, 
 And Arthur's castled rocks embrace, 
 And sway the sceptre Arthur sway'd ! 
 Yet had his great grandsire in vain 
 With princely Edward plough'd the main. 
 And some, that treasure to regain, 
 To Merlin idly look'd for aid ; 
 Or, pilgrims, to the Virgin pray'd ! • 
 Still was Erizey doom'd to moura 
 In fond regret o'er Kaliburn ! 
 
 XVIIL 
 Thus as he talk'd, in girlish plky 
 Fair Isabel would archly say : 
 ^' Give me from Arthur's sword, a dust, 
 " Or but a little spicy rust ; 
 
 VOL. I. p 3 
 
1 62 PAFR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cahjo iii 
 
 " Or give me but a bloody scale — 
 " And may the lover's vows avail '" 
 He saw, perhaps, the fair-one jeer'd — 
 And sigh'd, or frown'd, and disappear'd. 
 Not tha.t he thought she scorn'd the theme ; 
 (What will not lovesick fancy dream ?) 
 Still hoping by some enterprize 
 To 3teal, ere long, her. softer sighs ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But quickly with his form, his face. 
 From memory well nigh fled the trace 
 Of vows, fictitious or sincere, 
 Which never met her patient ear. 
 And to her Edward at the cave. 
 While glided fast " the haunted eve,*' 
 She had not of Erizey told — 
 To her, his warmest suit was cold. 
 *Twas then, amidst their favourite bower, 
 Was pass'd by stealth the unvalued hour ! 
 
CANTO ^11 ApORNISH ROMANCE. 163 
 
 If to her mind Erizey came. 
 Perhaps to speak that suitor's name 
 Were but to wake a jealous flame ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 A few short moments, yesterday, 
 .Trevanion hail'd, to haste away — 
 Moments of fearful joy were they. 
 How troubled by Erizey's lay ! 
 And it was just six moons before, 
 Had vpass'd by stealth the unvalued hour J' 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And now, where she had often clung 
 To her dear mother's side, and hung 
 On lips of pure devotion there ; 
 And (as to the rais'd hands in prayej!^ 
 That parent her attention drew) 
 Her little hands had lifted too ; 
 There, to the Virgin bending low, 
 She bade a soul of sorrow flow. 
 
IH FAIR ISABEI, OF COTEHELE cANTt> lit 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Hymn to the Virgin. 
 
 1. 
 
 *' Ah, pity her who^e guileless heart 
 From trutti was never taught to rove 5 
 
 Who whisper'd here, devoid of art, 
 Her earliest vows of infant love. 
 
 2. 
 
 If e*er I heard the unlicens'd sigh, 
 The wish that answer'd ill to minei 
 
 Nor trivial smile, nor soften'd eye 
 Did favour to the suit incline. 
 
 3. 
 
 1 blush*d not, to the groves alone 
 When first I told my secret flame % 
 
 I blush not, at this hour to own 
 What leaves no spot on virgin fame. 
 
CAKTO III. A CORNISH K031ANCB. i6Sr 
 
 4. 
 
 Then O ! by that expression mild, 
 I'hy looks of grace so sweetly giv*n 
 
 To her who fondly nurs'd her child. 
 To her, a saint with thee, in heaven y 
 
 5. 
 
 O save me from a fearful doom, 
 If pure my soul tliy shrine adore ; 
 
 But rescue from the gathering gloom-^ 
 One kind, one gentle spirit more.** 
 
 XXIII. 
 Died, as s«raphic airs expire* 
 The melodies of fond desire— r 
 Ah ! not so sweet the streamlet sighs ; 
 So sweet, the vernal zephyr dies. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But scarce was the last echo gone, 
 Fainting as in prophetic tone, 
 
166 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, .ant© iif 
 
 Ere at her door, what seem'd a Friar 
 Clad in Mount Carmers coarse attire, 
 With downcast look and half a grin, 
 Was by father Nicholas usher*d in. 
 Tho' his demeanor mark'd the tribe— 
 The assassins from Phenicia*s height, 
 Nor heart had he, resisting bribe ,— 
 
 He was self-cali'd a Carmelite. 
 
 In truth, he was of British race ; 
 
 But flying from his native place, 
 
 Had long conccaPd dishonour foul 
 
 Beneath a sanctimonious cowl. 
 
 Alas \ nor cowl, ilor foreign clime 
 
 Can hide from Heaven, or cancel crime. 
 
 And follow'd one in Palmer's vest 
 
 Who his long staff a moment ey 'd. 
 
 Then, stooping, lower'd his pilgrim-pridcg 
 
 And the damsel thus address'di 
 
:ahto III. A CORNISH ROMANCE 16T 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ^ Thee, only, matehless maiden I thee 
 ^^ Would I salute on bended knee ! 
 " She, at whose shrine I daily kneel, 
 *' Bade me go worship in Cotehele 
 " The nymph of my idolatry ! 
 ** 'Twas by her secret whisper sent 
 *' 1 sail'd to where his holy tent 
 ** King. Richard pitch' d — with his red- 
 cross men — 
 " Foredoom'd to slay tlie Saracen. 
 " For tliee o^er angry seas I pass'd ; 
 ** For thee I brav'd the parched waste 
 *' Where no rill flows, nov breezes bless 
 *' The interminable wilderness ^^ 
 " But the faint camel gasps for breath 
 " And looks with piteous eyes 
 *' To sands that in red columns rise 
 
 " Darkening in storm the noon day skies. 
 
 *"* 'Midst brittle shrubs no shade that cast, 
 
168 ?AJR ISABEL OF COTBHELE, cavio ii 
 
 > 
 
 ** And bleaching bones where serpents 
 
 glare, 
 '* And whistling thro* the lurid air 
 <* With sudden fiery haze Simoom 
 *' From its pestilential plume 
 ** Shakes destiny and death !*' 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Erizey stopp'd in sudden pause 
 
 As in expectance of applause; 
 
 But, as he uplifted his palm tree branch, 
 
 The blood in his cheek did terror blanch ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Then "hear me !" cried the Carmelite — 
 *' The vows thou didst to Erizey plight, 
 *' This day renew, 
 ** And vow them true, 
 ** Ere the sacring bell 
 « The mass shall tell ! 
 
•ANTO in A CORNISH ROMANCE. i69 
 
 " And, when the first nuptial sun shall arise, 
 ** Thy parent shall your hands unite : 
 ** Lo 1 he approves tlie spousal rite 
 " And bids me kiiit the ties !" 
 He said ; and, to freeze up her soul, 
 Shook, with a sneer, a crackling scroll; 
 And departing flung from sprigs of rue 
 On the threshold, drops of holy dew. 
 
 xxviir. 
 
 From horrors direr than the grave, 
 (Again she sung,) thy suppliant save 1 
 " O save me from a fearful doom, 
 
 ^* If pure my soul thy shrine adore ^ 
 ** But rescue from the gathering gloom 
 
 *^ One kind, one gentle spirit more." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 In sooth, assistance well were ask'd, 
 Where villainy, devotion-mask'd 
 
 n>L. I. d 
 
170 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto fJfe 
 
 Beset a solitary maid — 
 
 Well were implor'd celestial aid. 
 
 For, whilst that groveling figure short 
 
 A reptile meanness seem'd to mark , 
 
 And stratagem made horrid sport 
 
 In ambush beneath eyebrows dark; 
 
 And zeal but ill affected grace, 
 
 As often the sarcastic grin 
 
 Discover'd thro' its wrinkled skin 
 
 T he experience of an olive face ; 
 
 And mingled (poor resource of guile) 
 
 With spleen the prompt obsequious smile; 
 
 And the swart fire of eyes deep sunk 
 
 Lighten'd or gleam'd from Carmel's Monk* 
 
 jn friendlike league that spirit so fell 
 
 To father Nicholas could tell, 
 
 Without the help of wordy wings, 
 
 Things full of fear — unearthly things ! 
 
c/.>TO III A CORNISH ROMANCE. 171 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And see, where Erizey, the Pabiier-Sdint, 
 Droops from wounds and watchings faint, 
 From toil and guilt and terror weak, 
 Now flusht with flame his hectic cheek, 
 Now ashy-pale as shrouded corse ; — 
 AVhiist> to banish sick remorse, 
 The Prioress^ tottering at his side, 
 Struggles to sooth, but fain would chide ! 
 Behold her at the chapel stand, 
 Where dimples in its basin pure 
 The consecrated fount ! Demure, 
 And frisking her shrunk scorched hand 
 (Divine ablution !) lo the nymph 
 Flings o'er her charge the cleansing lymph! 
 
 XXXL 
 
 " My son ! the valourous knight resume !" 
 (Her voice was as her visage sharp !) 
 
 VOL. I. Q 2 
 
1T2 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto iii 
 
 ^* Let nought on earth thy courage warp 
 
 ** From its firm bent — Throw off thy gloom I 
 
 " Oft with success its influence crown'd, 
 
 ** I have a balsam for thy wound. 
 
 ** To me, where erst Plym's limpid wave 
 
 ** My ruin'd nunnery lov'd to lave, 
 
 (** Now foaming 'midst polluted scenes) 
 
 <* One of dire Hal's devoted queens 
 
 ** A plant of wond'rous virtue gave, 
 
 " Of power to heal — said Anne of Cleves — 
 
 " The frame that taints, the heart that 
 
 grieves. 
 ** 'Twas there, where sovereign sway 1 
 
 bore, 
 *^ I bade its potent oils restore 
 *• One, who had felt the broadsword's bite ! 
 " From his ripht-breast as from a sluice 
 ** Gush'd out our champion's blood 1 
 ** But that rare herb's salubrious juice 
 *• ISoon stnpp'd the crimson flood 
 
CANTO 111. A CORNISH ROMANCE. n3 
 
 *• Our champion did I say ? 
 
 ** My kindness how did he requite I 
 
 <* 'Tis true, he sank amidst a fray 
 
 ** Opposing the Inquisitors fell 
 
 ^* Who search'd our nunnery, cell by cell^ — 
 
 ** Who, with unmanly disrespect 
 
 ** No female modesty could brook, 
 
 " In all our chambers prowl'd about, 
 
 '* As if assur'd they could detect 
 
 " And hy their hunting ferret out 
 
 ** Some secret sin from every nook ' 
 
 *' The wounded man, tho' long and much 
 
 <* Of Spiintly things he sung or said, 
 
 «* Yet ill became the grave Capuch ! 
 
 ** For O ' recovered from his wound, 
 
 " He stole from me a damsel fair 
 
 *' Who had watch'd him with a sister's 
 
 care — 
 " His ** ministering maid !" 
 " One night they disappear'd : 
 
 VOL. I. a 3 
 
]'74 FAIT? ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ih 
 
 " Nor from that moment hath been found 
 " The girl to all our hearts endear'dl 
 " Ah, nurtured from a babe by me, 
 '* Sweeter than all the sister-hood, 
 '* By his base art was she subdued, 
 '' And (ere sixteen 'twas hers to see) 
 *' Plung'd in tlie meretricious grove — 
 *' But thou art sanction'd in thy love !" 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 She said. And tho' her quivering lip 
 From Circe's cup had ceased to sip ; 
 Yet luscious fancies linger'd still, 
 Where she had never quaft'd her filL 
 And, tho' her hoar locks might you marl 
 Like mildew, or the grizzled moss 
 On some old sallow's canker'd bark ; 
 Yet did she seem with quaint address 
 Fond to display her favourite tress 
 Still sleek in all its summer gloss ! 
 
CANTO III A CORNISH ROMANCE. I*r5 
 
 And, tho' her eye no more did swim 
 In langours soft to pleasure's glance, 
 And palsy every sapless limb 
 (Sure harbinger of death) did shake ; 
 Yet would she melt in sensual trance, 
 And, (weaving the libidinous tale 
 That show'd at heart the rake) 
 Against voluptuous beauty rail J 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Meantime, across the level green 
 With downcast eye and pensive mien 
 Pacing, the stranger- Gr^'eit was seen. 
 And now he stopped, and now beneath 
 The oratory-window stood, 
 And (scuiptur'd well where each stone- 
 wreath 
 The slender shafts in roses crown'd) 
 Was wakcn'd from his musing mood, 
 As his black eyes from off the ground 
 
I've FAm ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cahto ii 
 
 He rais'd, look'd up, and caught by chance 
 
 Fair Isabel's enquiring glance ! 
 
 And, all unveiFd the observing Fair, 
 
 Her eyelids siiky-shading fringe, 
 
 Her deepening blush, her modest air . 
 
 So lovely in the sombre hght 
 
 As she retreated from his sight, 
 
 Did, from a quick emotion, tinge 
 
 His cheek, and all his frame unhinge ! 
 
 Chaste beauty, in so bright a blaze, 
 
 Had seldom met his ardent gaze : 
 
 No ; not such charms, tho' luring most, 
 
 Could his Elysian Chio boast. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 'Twas there, amidst the hostile jars 
 
 Of Moslem scymitars, 
 
 Erizey had heard the wild war-shriek, 
 
 And snatch'd from death the Chian Greek. 
 
CAMTO in. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 177 
 
 And, grateful for a life so won. 
 Had the Greeks to Lebanon 
 Erizey led, a trusty guide; 
 And, close to his preserver's side, 
 To visit Albion's cliffs now came 
 With seeming philosophic aim. 
 
 XXXV- 
 
 Where glided o'er smooth seas the sail, 
 Had the Greek heard his comrade's tale ; 
 As, whining to the impostor-priest, 
 Erizey said ; * Much, much, I fear, 
 
 * I am in vain a votarist. 
 
 * li she regard my pilgrimage, 
 
 * 'Tis the wild feature of the deed, 
 'That would alone her soul engr.ge, 
 
 * And bid her grant a Palmer'' s meed J 
 
 * For ah, unlovely in her sight 
 
 * Is every penance, every rite. 
 
 « But, if she listen to my prayer, 
 ' Thro any force or art of thine, 
 
178 ^AIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto h , 
 
 * With treasures my religious care 
 
 « Shall hasten to enrich thy shrine !' 
 Such had he heard. And hence, that lay, 
 (Soon as the Palmer^ $ song had ceas*d 
 And the Palmer had trac'd a devious way) 
 That strain which, at the cave, increased 
 Her wonder and dismay. 
 Oft too, o'er ocean as their bark 
 Was whirPd, he caught the grave remark 
 Follow'dby sighs of fond desire: 
 
 * If to her share some weakness fall,— 
 < If blemish slight, or fault at all, 
 
 * It is that as on wings of fire, 
 ^ Or in soft passion's mood, 
 
 * She soars or sinks away, subdued 
 
 * And ravisht by the lyre ! 
 
 * By sounds that trance the spirit alone- 
 
 * The dear enthusiast can be won I' 
 
CANTO III A CORNISH ROMANCE, n9 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Such 'young Callimachi had heard : 
 And love romantic thrill'd the bard. 
 Faint is the glow of gratitude ! 
 It languishes, alas ! too soon 
 E'en in the generous and the good. 
 But, if no moral sense attune 
 A soul disturb'd by fond desire, 
 Its sickly embers strait expire. 
 And hark ! beneath her window rise 
 From Grecian chords strange melodies. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 ^^ I have heard, at evening fall, 
 Quaintly tun'd the gay miskal : 
 But, tho' joyance claim'd the meed, 
 Brcath'd tliro every mellow reed. 
 
180 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto hi 
 
 Was there airy sound divine. 
 Was there music light as tliine f 
 
 2. 
 
 W^here o'er flowers that paint the graves, 
 Dark the funeral cypress waves, 
 1 have heard the soft santoor. 
 Sweet and pensive measures pour. 
 Plcd^antas the dying breeze — 
 Were they measures sweet as these r 
 
 8. 
 
 To the zambooria*s notes 
 Oft where frisked the fair Chiotes, 
 Young May o'er the purple grove 
 Spuiikiing odurcus life and love : — 
 Was the myrrh- distilling May 
 Mild as thy December-day ? 
 
 4. 
 
 I have struck my golden lyre, 
 To elicit love's own fire, 
 
A CORNISH ROMANCE. I8l 
 
 Rich as every dulcet string 
 Did melodious passion ring- 
 But that lute's delicious lay 
 Bids me fling my lyre away !" 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 From the chapel now rang the last quick 
 
 chime, 
 And peal'd the organ in loud swell, 
 Like a burst of thunder over-head, 
 Or, by the whirlwind's sweep 
 Arous'd in all its grandeur dread. 
 The long roar of the rolling deep- 
 Lo, thro' the portal-arch sublime 
 The procession moving slow, 
 By Mawd and Jacciueline led. 
 Mute spectacle of woe 
 Went lovely Isabel 
 Up the dim vaulted isle. Between 
 The altar and the burnish'd screen 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
1 82 FAIR ISABEL OF COT^H^ELE, canto ki 
 
 Where, sculptur'd in compartments blue, 
 Apostles hoar and saints v/erc seen, 
 Were plac'd the couple full in view ! 
 And now, from holy censers breath'd 
 And slowly curl'd around 
 And in dun columns wreath'd, 
 Aspir'd the incense-cloud 
 lo the chancel-roof; and erst so loud 
 The organ's last faint sound, 
 (As some lorn spirit that bids adieu 
 To its cold yet struggling clay) 
 Lingering, shivering, died away* 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But, whilst curiously design'd 
 Branches of palm with roses twin'd 
 And cedar-leaves, in many a braid 
 On the crimson altar were display 'd, 
 Ihe golden chahces to shade ; — 
 The pictured window cast 
 A hght portentous from the East j 
 
CANTO 111 A CORNISH ROMANCE. i&3 
 
 And wav'd the banners from on high ; 
 And the mail-plates shook without a blast 
 Suspended fiom their massy bar; 
 And trembled, with no breath of air, 
 All the ancient panoply 1 
 
 XL. 
 
 " By that ever sacred rose 
 '' Whose parent-stem in Sharon grows ; 
 ** By the cedar pluck'd for thee ; 
 " By those branches from the tree 
 " That loves the waves of Galilee ; 
 " I adjure thee — by that wreath — 
 " Here ratify thy plighted faith !" 
 Echoed a voice of fear. — " I vow'd 
 " No vow !" She cried, and meekly bow'd. 
 ' *' If thou* relent not, thou shalt rue 
 " Thine angry sire — the Virgin too ! 
 *' Daughter, beware ! The hour is come ! 
 " We give thee to the immuring gloom!'* 
 
 vol; I* r 2 
 
1 S4 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEH ELE, canto i.\ i 
 
 Conclusion to Canto third. 
 1. 
 
 Tlio' such enthusiastic fire was wild ; 
 Yet, as it mark'd no bounds in parting 
 seas, [smil'd 
 
 Thro' stranger reahns the dawn of kindness 
 Where cold distrust did every heartspring 
 
 freeze ; 
 Where erst as the pale venom of disease, 
 Each sect with sect, diffusing rancour, strovel 
 And, (tho' tame slaves still grasp' d the 
 tyrant's knees, 
 And Palmer-chiei's their webs of mystery 
 wove) [ciailove! 
 
 From Ascalon first gleam'd the lamp of so- 
 
CANTO III. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 185 
 
 2. 
 
 With mutual light, amidst the sours expanse 
 (Tho' battle stain'd) as far the nations 
 shine, 
 
 From rich Italia' s bowers, and frolic France 
 And Albion's stubborn cliffs, alert to join 
 The tented force where whitens Palestine; 
 
 See various arts — unfolding not in vain — 
 To smooth the asperites ot life combine ; 
 
 And tall spires glittering glance from plain 
 to plain, [fane ! 
 
 And, shaping its fine arch, the Saracenic 
 
 3. 
 
 And, to the statelier intellectual march 
 If Romanist his Ave-maries paid ; 
 
 His eye sagacious thro' that pointed arch 
 Saw untold treasures hallow each cru- 
 sade ! [ter'd shade. 
 And the Monk, picturing, from his cloys- 
 
 VOL. I. R S 
 
13d FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto i a 
 
 The trophies fair of chivalrous emprize, 
 Bade brighter verdure cloathe his eme>- 
 raid glade ; 
 And (new^ sweets wafted from exotic skies) 
 To crown his dainty board, a rare exube- 
 rance rise. 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 IKTRODUCTIOV TO CAKTO FOURTH. 
 
€l)t fait 3^Ml of Coteliele^ 
 
 J CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 L 
 
 Linking the nations, tho' religious zeal 
 Thub from dull siuiibers wak'd ingenu- 
 
 ' '-■' ous art ; [steel 
 
 And, midst the sparkling of the warlike 
 Bade new civilities around her start, 
 Spread the fleet sail, and croud the mot- 
 ley mart; [drencht 
 
 Yet was her aim to vaunt her banners 
 In savage slaughter ; as to shock the heart, 
 
 She rous'd all Europe's rage with blood 
 unquencht. 
 
190 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 And fierce from Salem's towers the drip- 
 ping crescent wrench'd ! 
 
 II. 
 
 And, when the distant wiidhre blaz'd no 
 moie, [burn'd, 
 
 Still with the thirst of carnage still she 
 And, as yet fresh with Asia's torrent gore, 
 In smother'd ire upon herself returned ; 
 Whilst he who grasp'd the cross, a bro- 
 ther spurn'd, 
 And, flinging horrours on the common faith, 
 Where pity's tear the meek disciple 
 mourn'd, 
 Caird up the torturing fiend in fiery wrath, 
 Deepen'd the prison-shades, and forg'd the 
 wheel of death I 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH. 
 
Cl^e ifatt; %mM of Cotel^icle. 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH* 
 I. 
 
 A HE swelling notes of organ grand!, 
 Sancebell and sanctuary were still : 
 They had subserved the priestly will ! 
 Ah I pageants but by treachery plann'd I 
 Such mockery as brings vengeance down 
 Oft on many a monkish crown ! * 
 
in FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, €auto vr 
 
 IL 
 
 And lo ! that solemn service o'er, 
 Smiles she had witnessed ne'er before, 
 From Mawd a cringing-like caress, 
 And bows from priests and prioress, 
 Were her " immuring gloom :" 
 And he, too, (anxious to resume 
 A young knight's more enticing dress) 
 The pilgrim — as in scorn away 
 Flung his palm-stafF and amide gi*ay. 
 Yet Isabel, without surprize, 
 Saw, 'twas a specious poor disguise, 
 An artful mummery, to impose 
 On her .domestic train — on those 
 Who own'd for her kind sympathies. 
 
 And npw, (tho' to dark guilt and guile 
 She often forc'd a wintery smile, 
 
CANTO IV A CORNISH ROMANCE. 1^5 
 
 Thro' a big tear of pale regret) 
 It seem'd as if they ail were met 
 In friendly concert round the hearth 
 Of social minstrelsy and mirth ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 In strains attention's ear to hold. 
 All of his voyage Erizey told — 
 Told, how an unexpected gale 
 Drove from its course the struggling sail ; 
 Where, scattered round, each Grecian isle 
 Eesum'd, erelong, a faery smile. 
 And " fight (he saidj how light the breeze 
 •* In whispers kiss'd the deep-blue seas ! 
 ** And many a little fair caique 
 «' Glided on the smooth expanse, 
 *' Or wavei'd in some shadowy creek ; 
 " And all seem'd visions of [romance ! 
 ** From every shore, as shrubby bloom» 
 ^* Amidst the exuberant leaves 
 s 2 
 
1^6 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto it 
 
 '* Darken'd and flusli'd in lights and glooms, 
 
 " Was incense wafted o'er the waves ! 
 
 " And, as I enter'd Chio's bay, 
 
 ^* Delicious was the closing day. 
 *^ Brilliant and vivid were the dyes 
 ** Across the lovely Western skics-^ 
 ** Above, a streak of crimson glow, 
 '* And a long yellow line, below 1 
 ** And, the rich red and gold between, 
 " The tints so deepen'd into green, 
 *' That one wide stnpe of verdure soft 
 ^* Seem'd lifted like a lawn aloft I 
 •* But landing, I full soon perceiv'd 
 ** The fury passions were at work ; 
 ** And heard, as giimps'd the avenging 
 
 Greek 
 ** And fled the janissary Turk, 
 *' The death-shot, and the dying shriek, 
 ** E^en where ambrosial fruitage heav'd I 
 
«4N TO !v, A CORNISH ROMANCE. 197 
 
 " All-*all was still. The wov>dput]i way 
 '^' As up With dubious steps I wound, 
 ** Suddfen there came a rushing sound 
 *' As of some bhd thatsnufF'd her prey, 
 ^* Ami far off a low groan 
 *' That pictured agony ! 
 ** Again, I caught the sufferer's moan 
 *• That yet at distance seem'd to die ( 
 "And, breaking thro' the twisted bovvers 
 '' O'er virid plants and matted flowers, 
 *' Where the mulberry's silky flow 
 ** And arbutus below, 
 ^* And almond's silver blossoms bricrht 
 *y Wantoned in the soft clear Hght , 
 *' Long did I thro' the thicket creep, 
 '* And panting climb from steep to steep, 
 ** Ere, beneath a mastic's shade, 
 ^ " In princely armour all array 'd, 
 '' 1 kw (ia death I deem'd) a Greek 1/ 
 
 s 3 
 
198 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE catjto jv 
 
 ** And black upon his weltering side 
 
 ** Wings flapp'd, and did with carnage reek I 
 
 *• And in a wound that open'd wide 
 
 " Plung'd often was a vulture-beak ! 
 
 ** Nor ceas'd the bird, tho' I drew near, 
 
 ** Unsated, and as void of fear ; 
 
 ** Till, scarce by brandished &abre scar'd, 
 
 •^ 'Mid the close shrubs she disappear'd." 
 
 V- 
 
 ** Yes ! (cried the Greek J Mohammed's 
 
 bird 
 ** 'Twas thine, brave chief ! to fright away; 
 ^' Or, helpless^ 1 had died its prey ! 
 ** Fainting 1 fell ; and scarcely stirr'd 
 *< The pulses of my heart ; 
 *< And flattering life just wak'd to part ! — 
 ^^ Alas! my sire, of Chio lord, 
 " With treasures too attractive stor'dj 
 
^A«TO IT A CORNISH ROMANCE. 1^9 
 
 ** The imperious Turk had rudely seizM ; 
 " And his fir'd mansion blaz'd. 
 *VHiai had I rescu'd from their hands; 
 ^* And in their roat the ruffian bands 
 •• Were slain, or fled down hill or dell^ 
 ** When by a random shot I fell. 
 *' Nor long, as from a towering height, 
 " In a hiss, and now in a whistling flight, 
 ** I heard the sound of wings draw nigh; 
 *' And looking up with dizzy eye, 
 
 " Scarce saw the monster-bird, ere mist 
 
 " Obscur'd my swimming sight ; 
 
 ** And blotted was the solar light 
 
 *^ When scattered sense returning gleam'd, 
 
 " From my torn wound the life-blood 
 streamed ; 
 
 •*And a thrilling scream the vulture scream'd, 
 
 *' As with desperate effort I seiz'd in vain 
 
 " Her featliery talons, to resist 
 
 '* Too feeble, and sank back again T' 
 
i<>5* FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto iv 
 
 . VL 
 If, ere thy people o'm. -'d aid, 
 Mv prompter arm si ch help essay'd, 
 Tu thee I owe (ERiziiY cned) 
 Ihe care that every w-^nl s^t^pl^ed ; 
 That led, where rich Eii^e#. glows ; 
 That taight me to embarb i cse 
 Yes I when so many a bea«^ us Uiaid 
 Fix'd on hy tace tier dark e es wild, 
 And thin2;s of tender meaning said, 
 For sorrow sie^h'd, for pieasurc ■ .xiil'd-*- 
 'Ihat girl so graceful, a$ s)\e threw 
 O'er the silk robe, hef caftnn biiie^ 
 And bade thee such a dear pdieu^-* 
 And that sweet nymph, wh< ^e long eye- 
 
 itiiih 
 
 Veird in soft shade luxurious fire, 
 Whilst blushingly the criiTison sash 
 Confined her bosom's fond desire-^ 
 
«i%iiTOir. A CORNISH ROMANCE, Wl 
 
 «« Were they not trying tests, to prove 
 ^ Thy friendship paramount to love V* 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yet did their odd demeanour speak 
 
 No cordial friendship unconstrained. 
 
 Oft, dropping a dark hint, the Greek 
 
 StUI more would utter, but refrain'd: 
 
 ^nd oft the Palmer* s frown confessed 
 
 A rival fire, and rage supprest. 
 
 But, when her sweet looks, as they stray'd> 
 
 Met his — the Chian chief, by chance; 
 
 Detecting in each feature guilt, 
 
 Erizey grasp'd his sabre's hilt ; 
 
 And there were lightnings in his glance 1 
 
 Then, conscious of a jealous flame 
 
 So nieanly waken'd and betray'd. 
 
 He bow'd his head, and Wush'd for shame ; 
 
 And, calling with a quick forced smijo 
 
 For some soft air of Chio's isle. 
 
^S FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto i^ 
 
 Thus challeng*d, in relief 
 
 Of ire that had such tuuiuit made, 
 
 With his own saaiiis ihejChiaii chief I 
 
 VIII. 
 
 SOiMG. 
 1. 
 
 <^ On heathery plains, in purple vales, 
 I have vtew'd many a female f )i la ; 
 W here sounds his icy wings the storm, 
 
 Or citrons scent the gales. 
 
 2. 
 
 Tresses, in full luxuriance bright,^ 
 
 Fresh blooms, blue eyes our Highlands 
 
 boast i [coasti 
 
 Tho' bicak winds sweep the scowling 
 
 And snow girds every height. 
 
CANTO It A CORNISH ROMANCE, S05 
 
 Ripen'd beneath Iberla'a •un. 
 Say, hath the delicate soft glow, 
 The lily pale,^ the glossy &ioe, 
 
 The prize of beauty won^ 
 
 4. 
 
 The turbanM tribe where love impels. 
 See from her v^^i Noureahi bre4k ! 
 Poniegi 4nate3 biv sspm in her chegk 5 
 
 Her eyes, the dark gaZrelle^sJ 
 
 5. 
 
 Where Lesbos slopes her gardens, green 
 With fruitful olive, did I greet 
 The ceintur'd waist, the Sandal'd feet 
 
 That rival beauty's (jueen ! 
 
904 FAIR ll^ABEL OF COTEHELE, canto if 
 
 6. 
 
 But who dares vie with Chio's Fan* ? [sumc 
 Nor Greece nor Albion's nymphs pre- 
 To match their smiles, their brilliant 
 bloom, 
 
 Their hyacinthine hair ! 
 
 '- 7. 
 
 There, as calm eve spreads pensively 
 Her violet hues, sure, some sweet mard 
 That danc'd amidst thine orange shade^ 
 
 ^ow wandering, pines for thee !'^ 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Chian Prince bade instant fire 
 Awaken all his trembling 1) r€. 
 
CAt^TO ir. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 205 
 
 SONG. 
 1. 
 
 ** Tho' sigh for me the fairest Greek, 
 And Venus tint her glowing cheek ; 
 Tho', as she chaunts Callimachi, 
 The blush may rise, still new for mc ; 
 I have no answering sighs to give- 
 On simple bloom I cannot live ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Tho', in the splendid proud Serai 
 The female blaze outshine the day. 
 And beauty shadowy locks unfold 
 Sable as musk, or bright as gold ; 
 I cannot live, from dawn to dusk, 
 On locks of gold, or curls of musk I 
 
 Tho' pamper'd lords affect to prize 
 The languishment of large black eyes^ 
 
«06 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto'iY 
 
 And, in a strain of rapture, say. 
 That soft as sleep they melt away ; 
 The large black eyes of the gazelle 
 To me, at least, are just as well. ^ 
 
 Tho' sated pleasure j)till may sip 
 The dew-drops tincturing Zoe's lip, 
 Some richer, sweeter balm I ask 
 Than kisses rich as Ohio's flask : 
 Fine be the flavour, yet I own, 
 I cannot live on hps alone. 
 
 5. 
 
 Tho* gentle loves, as all avouch, 
 Fan with bright wings the fragrant couch 
 In drowsy dalliance where reposes 
 High pomp on bosom *' full of roses" — 
 Roses themselves the sense may greet 
 From every bower — perchance as sweet. 
 
ItA^to IV A CORNISH ROMlNC E. 207 
 
 6. 
 
 O give me, worthy well the whole, 
 O but a single glance of soul — 
 One tear, to soothe my spirit, lent — 
 Give rae one sigh from sentiment [ 
 Then blest art thou — how blest — in her 
 Who, as those charms the EasL outvie, 
 Tor thee hath treasur'd many a tear, 
 And many a glance, and many a sigh T' 
 
 X. 
 
 For spirits deprav'd nor lyre nor lute 
 Hath any fountain of delight. — - 
 Yet song averts the venom'd bice 
 Where India rues her serpent fang. 
 Darting oft the deadly pang. 
 Charm'd by the flageolet or flute. 
 The spotted cobra's rage is fled ! 
 She gently lifts her hooded head, 
 
 T 2 
 
208 FAIK ISABEL OF COTEHELE canio Ir 
 
 To every note her ear inclines, 
 
 And moves in undulating lines, 
 
 Nor from the time a moment swerves, 
 
 But bends, still bends her graceful curves I 
 
 Each simple tone prolongs her trance ; 
 
 And all innocuous is the dance ! 
 
 XL 
 
 Ah ! to those lays the Prioress 
 * Like the deaf adder' stopp'd her ears 1^ 
 Nor could the music of the spheres 
 In her the tide of crime repress, 
 And her confederate Capuchin I 
 If, for a moment's space, from sin 
 Their brooding minds did concord win. 
 Those symphonies were as the blast 
 That furrows up the watery waste I 
 But songs or hurricanes alike 
 Had melody their ears to suit, 
 As, in each other all absorb'd. 
 They looks reciprocally cast 
 
eASTO IV A CORNISH ROMANCE. 209 
 
 By mutual machinations barb'd. 
 And, as the same ideas stiike 
 Minds of a kindred turn at once, 
 And answer, instant in response, 
 They oft exchang'd a demon smile : j 
 'Twas confidential guile with guile. 
 On his right breast that livid seam 
 He had just laid open to her eye, 
 With all the assassin's secresy ; — 
 And shriek'd she not in agony ? 
 O could she think without a tear 
 On that frail damsel erst so dear ? 
 Yes I all her love was laid asleep : 
 And she could hug pollution deep, 
 As, prompt to aid her every scheme, 
 She hail'd the son of stratagem ; 
 And, now in whispers all apart, 
 Caress'd the Capuchin, whose art 
 Had every sacred trust betray'd, 
 
 T 3 
 
» 10 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto iy 
 
 And had borne off" his minist'ring maid,'* 
 Pei-fidious, from the vestal shade. 
 
 XIL 
 So, *midst the song, the lute or lyre. 
 Were restless spirits afloat ! [dii*e. 
 
 Dark were their thoughts, their ponderings 
 But, ere was heard the Greek's last note, 
 (Sweet, tho' ironic was the tone) 
 AH unperceiy'd was Isabel gone t 
 So vanish, ere the blush of day. 
 The circles of moon-loving fay. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 To her at distance from the hall, 
 The hour seem'd husht into repose ; , 
 Save that abrupt a murmur rose : 
 And then the silence was so deep, 
 She fancied all fast lock'd in sleep — 
 She heard the wildwood waterfall ! 
 
CANTO IV A CORNISH ROMANCE. 2U 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The castle — it was deadly still — 
 When steps along the gallery-floor 
 Stealing as they approached her door, 
 She heard with an icy chill ( 
 And strait a strong convulsive thrust 
 Drove at the door a massy bar : 
 It did its work with a dismal jar ; 
 For time had canker'd it with rust : 
 And it for years had ceas'd to slide, 
 By force tyrannic long unplied. 
 Poor prisoner ! was thy arras-room — 
 Say was it that " immuring gloom ?'' 
 
 XV. 
 
 'Twas now the moment of midnight ; 
 When 'midst a stupour that had drown'd 
 Her sense, she started from the sound 
 As of surmises mutter'd low, 
 And then a short weak scream of woe. 
 
f 12 FAIR ISABEL OF COTKIIELE canto it 
 
 And then as fiorii a felon tread, 
 
 And ticpidatioii us in flight, 
 
 And a liowithat mi(]5ht have wak'd the dead! 
 
 XYI. 
 All into stillness Inps'd again ! — 
 But long eie the freczy dawn did stain 
 Her " southern tower" with pallid red, 
 jAcauELiNE and Mawd were at her bed ; 
 And, crossing each her angry breast, 
 (As the viper erects its tumid crest ) 
 Hurried her ofF, and dared her speak, 
 And gagg'd her iiiouth to smother a shriek. 
 And whiri'd her thio' the cloystral gloom, 
 And thence, lo a smail-arched room ; 
 Whence up black spiral stairs of stone, 
 They a chamber haii'd, where never groan 
 EscapVl to touch compassion's ear. 
 Or draw trom human eye the tear. 
 
CAMTO IV. A CORNISH ROMANCE* 215 
 
 XVII. 
 " Dire heretic !*' (in shadowy stole 
 A tall form rose, — her inmost soul 
 His accents pierc'd, portending ill — 
 His voice of terror cold and shrill — ) 
 ** Dire heretic ! thy schemes forego ; 
 " Or meet yet unimagin'd woe ! 
 *' Swear on this everlasting book — 
 (In his right hand the volume shook — 
 In his right hand it shook unclasp'd — 
 The sacred volume guilt had grasped) 
 ** Swccir, on this book, thou ne'er again 
 *' Wilt court Trevanion's love, on pain 
 ** Of punishment beyond the grave — 
 '* And, thy corrupted soul to save, 
 " Thou wilt, thyself, beseech thy sire 
 " To send thee, where in cells aspire 
 " Beyond the reach of earthly cares, 
 ** The sainted nun's secluded prayers.'* 
 
» 2 14 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, casto it 
 
 xyiii. 
 
 *^ No oath (said Isabel) will I swear : 
 ** What Heaven decrees, be mine to bear.'"' 
 " Then bear it !" — cried tlie same shrill 
 
 voice — 
 ** Then bear it ! Thou hast had thy choke: 
 ** Thou hast, thyself, pronounced thy doom. 
 " Go— to the sepulchral gloom [bones: 
 «' Where thou shalt greet thy mother's 
 " Tho* there no groans shall answer groans ; 
 " Unless, at each portentous pause, 
 *• Thou catch a sound from sunken jaws ; 
 "Where thou shalt see no gleam of light, 
 ** Unless in the sockets of death there be 
 
 sight ; 
 " But famisht — hourly worn away, 
 <' A skeleton (as the dead decay) 
 *' Thpu shalt hail, day after day, 
 ^* A coffin for thy resting-place, 
 «« A putrid corse for thine embrace ; 
 
GANTo IV. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 213 
 
 *' And thy livid lips shall strive 
 
 " Voiceless, with a vain essay, 
 
 " To curse, or to the Virgin pray ; 
 
 <* Whilst, if thy sire thy death deplore, 
 
 " Thou shalt be heard of, never more, — 
 
 ** While, to the search a clue to give, 
 
 " No trace of thee on earth shall live !" 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Down the spiral steps they go, 
 Silent with ghostly tread, and slow, 
 To the small-arched room below ; 
 Whence to the chapel oped a door : 
 And, passing now the palsying aisle, 
 They reach'd the North-recess , — 
 Where paus'd, then said the Prioress, 
 Trembling, yet with a ghastly smile, 
 (So ghastly, it might curdle up 
 In the stoutest heart each ruddy drop) 
 *' Isabel ! tliou art no more I" 
 
ftl& FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELt, canto iv 
 
 XX, 
 
 Horror was in that halt — 
 The priest unclos'd the vaults 
 The charnel yawn'd. — All overhead 
 Its doorway's tracery ^as dark-red, 
 By the sanguine lamplight dyed ; 
 And, you would deem, there broke 
 From its griesly depth the dunnest smokci 
 " Fiends of malice and of craft ! 
 " Creatures of Erebus avaunt !" 
 Shot from behind a pillar's shaft, 
 CAtLiMACHi that instant cried. 
 His damask'd blade he brandish'd wide — 
 " O let us fly this dolorous haunt — 
 " Bid me rescue thee from death !** 
 To almost senseless Isabel 
 He said ; and bending down to kneel, 
 And stooping low the splendid steel, 
 *^ This arm'* — he exclaim' d—*'shall guard 
 theewellP' 
 
GANTO IV, A CORNISH ROMANCE. 2lt 
 
 But, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 
 A stroke was given I 
 
 And "OP' with interrupted breath, 
 
 He utter'd — " monsters 1 villainy f 
 
 ** Protect her gracious heaven I 
 
 " O by the cross I" — ere death's eclipse, 
 
 Died his Redeemer on his lips ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And suddenly his soul did part — 
 The Monk had stabb'd him to the heart. 
 And : ** Let us hurry her within : 
 '* Last night, 1 saw her glance of gU'lt — • 
 *^ Her blush, the burnish but of sin I 
 " And well that pagan blood was spilt. 
 " Lo ! he had scymitars for palms, 
 *' And Pontic drugs for Salem's balms ; 
 " And, skili'd in potions pale and spells, 
 ** In every clime, his Isabels ! 
 " His balms were to Erizey sweet !^— 
 " But time speeds on ! Its wings are fleet !** 
 u 
 
218 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEllELE, canto iv 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Still did the charnel yawn. No sigh 
 Escap'd her — no tear dimm'd her eye. 
 She look'd with a gaze a moment wild ; 
 Hurried within, she only smil'd. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Closing, as in a whirlwind, clapp'd 
 
 The massive door. Amazement wrapped 
 
 The fane. Loud echoes spread ^he alarm ; 
 
 And it seem'd as a gigantic arm 
 
 Amidst the shivering shock, 
 
 Had fasten' d the adamantine lock ! 
 
 The distant arches rung : 
 
 And, the cluster' d columns all among. 
 
 Sounds repercQssivc yet replied. 
 
 And, thro' the cavern'd bhades below, 
 
 As if bewailing Isabel's woe, 
 
 In mutter'd thunders died. 
 
A CORNISH KOMAiVCE. %h 
 
 Conclusion to Canto fourth. 
 
 I. 
 Where glimmering winds the subterraneous 
 floor, 
 Pale fancy shudders at a scene unknown! 
 Still midnight reigns. And hark that iron door 
 Half-open'd ! What an agonizing groan i 
 1 tremble down the dusky steps ot stonc> 
 As rigid horrours every sinew cramp ; 
 Arid from yon walls below, where wild- 
 ly thrown (damp ! 
 Gleam dying lights, I drink the vapoury 
 From the long-arched roof, hangs many « 
 faint blue lamp. 
 
 V 2 
 
220 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto tr 
 
 2. 
 
 From those black robes, and each infernal 
 glance 
 Livid beneath that murky canopy, 
 The hollow cheek, and shadowy counte- 
 nance, [eye ! 
 See the wan wretch averts his hurried 
 Hah ! fiends— they laugh to scorn his 
 liiercy-cry, [lash ; 
 And his hmbs writhing to the wheelrack 
 And cold drops, as the screw grates hi- 
 deously, [flesh ; 
 Cold tearful drops stand on his trembling 
 The strain'd torn muscle leaps, the bones 
 disjointed crash. 
 
 8. 
 
 Here, where thro' British veins hath richly 
 roird [cing shriek, 
 
 More generous blood, tho' rare the piel-- 
 
•AMTo ir A CORNISH ROMANCE. 2«1 
 
 The death-moan, that the torturing engine 
 told ; [wreak 
 
 Yet hath a Sanhedrim, too prompt to 
 Its vengeance, bid eternal curses break 
 On the frail sinner's poor devoted head ; 
 
 And innocence in vain her accents meek 
 And her moist eye for mercy rais'd to pleads 
 As smok'd the sulphurous torch thro' the 
 deep dungeon-shade. 
 
 v4 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 IKTKODUCTIOV TO CANTO FIFTKp 
 
UaiiawIlUJ Tv^ JaiU'^^i Mi 
 
€l)e fait 3i^abel of Cote'^ele^ 
 
 J CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH* 
 I. 
 
 Xjong o'er the mind had superstition shed 
 ChilJ influence, where the cumbrous ab- 
 bey tower'd ; 
 And dark, as from the regions of the dead, 
 Oe'r varied life the cell-born phantom ^ 
 
 lour'd ! bower'd 
 
 Say, if secluded shades perchance em- 
 Some studious spirits to the miuses dear ; 
 
 If alms were at the crouded portals pour'd; 
 Say, could those walls from doubt the con- 
 science clear, [cheer ? 
 And with one ray of hope aspiring virtue 
 
226 INTRODUCTION' 
 
 II. 
 
 Blest be the hour, when Henry's flaming 
 brand [Monk -, 
 
 Bade the light flash upon the secret 
 When, as volcanos rocking all the land, 
 Imposture cowering from his anger 
 
 shrunk, 
 Tyrannic power, of adulation drunk, 
 And selfishness, consumed with its own rust^ 
 'Twas then with a tremendous crash, 
 were sunk 
 Roofs that for ages had but shelter'd lust ; 
 And purpled laziness lay whelm'd in sor- 
 did dust. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yet from the burning ruins that now blaz'd 
 In fierce abruptness to caprice's gale. 
 
 Sprang forth a fiend gigantic, that uprais'd 
 Its ensign like the comet's baneful trail ; 
 
INTRODUCTION. 22^ 
 
 ^nd, muttering vengeance to its victims 
 pale, , [ front i 
 
 Displayed, with blasting stride, its sable 
 Then guilt again, amidst the stifled wail 
 Of unseen sufferers, sought its sensual haun 
 And, sear'd by pardoning priests, bade fear 
 and death avaunt ! 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE^ 
 
 J CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO FIFTH. 
 
^¥ fair 30cihzl of €ott^tU. 
 
 J CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO FIFTH, 
 I. 
 
 jl ALE night pass'd on. To conscious 
 
 Mawd 
 The fiends of darkness sta!k*d abroad. 
 Staring at vacancy, she stood, 
 Then rous'd from her insensate mood 
 Leap'd up with shrieks, as if a dart 
 Her parched liver had pierc'd thro', 
 
 3^a 
 
^32 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELFv 'canto ▼- 
 
 And with a sudden start 
 
 Sprang oiF, and flew 
 
 From the- apostate Prioress ; 
 
 Blasted by that cadaverous hue, 
 
 By that blood-guiltiness, 
 
 Which (tho' a too familiar screen, 
 
 A curtain, dropping oft between 
 
 Her moral sense and secret sin) 
 
 She view'd with dread ! And conscience 
 
 rang 
 Reproaches in her tingling ears: 
 Yet her's were disingenuous fears, 
 The coward's recreant pang. 
 So doth the pine-branch, black and bieak;^ 
 The raven's favourite perch, 
 On which she oft her barbarous beak 
 Did whet, and hoarsiier croak — 
 So do:h that branch her featliers scorch, 
 Smouldering from the thunder-stroke ! 
 
CANTO T. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 2S3 
 
 So doth it — its own inmate scare i 
 Her rustling pennons rest not there. 
 
 II. 
 
 Gasping for breath — ** O let me pass! 
 
 ** Where, where is father Nicholas ?** 
 
 Gasping for air — " O lead me up 
 
 To the battlements — to the high-rooftop ! 
 
 " I hear her still !— I hear her ! — No ! 
 
 *' Sounds come not from so far below !" 
 
 i » 
 
 HI. 
 
 " Betray us not !" — still hovering nigh, 
 Said Jaqukline, with a smother'd cry. 
 ** To Jesse, (whom our prudent care 
 ** Last evening had dispatch'd elsewhere, 
 '* And who ran panting home, 
 ** I have just shown her vacant room : 
 " And (hinting, from her mournful mood 
 * Disaster dire, I fear'd, would come) 
 
 X 3 
 
S34 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto f. 
 
 «* To seek her, have 1 Jesse sent, 
 
 ** And the old boteler to the Ciive : 
 
 *' And they will find her headdress rent, 
 
 *' And deem her drown'd in Tamar-wave'<— 
 
 ** Fler veil (as I contriv'd) — her hood 
 
 ** From the rock dangling down the flood I 
 
 '* Then cease these idle fears. If pain 
 
 (She multer'd in low voice again) 
 
 '* It pain assail her mortal frame, 
 
 *• It wings her from the undying flame. 
 
 ^* If we have given her to the grave, 
 
 " The. body sinks, the soul to save." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Dumb now was Mawd. Her fell revenge 
 Was quench'd. . It was a woeful change. 
 The night was drear. The winds blew chill? 
 She clang to her dark watchtower still. 
 Nor art nor threats could force her down ; 
 Not father Nicholas' dreadful frown. 
 
«ANio V. A CORNISH EOMAnCE* S^ 
 
 ^ No — no ! (she cried) I gasp for air !''— » 
 Her dull eye gleam'd a transient glare, 
 And sank into a stupid stare. 
 
 V. 
 
 But lo along the horizon dim 
 
 There was a moving groupe : 
 
 And you might image in the gleam 
 
 Tall trees bending down the slope ! 
 
 And thro^ the mist descending slow ^ 
 
 And still less visible below, 
 
 You might observe them strait withdrawn, 
 
 Where cluster'd in the dawn 
 
 Black crags grotesque. Behind the kara^ 
 
 Emerging soon, might eye discern 
 
 High steeds, and on their horses, men ; 
 
 And catch a glimmering, now dnd then, 
 
 Where flicker'd the red east, aslant, 
 
 As from gigantic warriours gaunt, 
 
f$6 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto t. 
 
 And now a glitter, a quick glance 
 Distinct from casque, or mail or lance, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Now in the pale light on they rush'd — 
 And you might see with ardour flusht 
 The horsemen, and thro' parting gloora 
 You might perceive a heron-plume, 
 And midst the steeds, or roan or brown 
 A snowy courser paw the down. 
 
 VIL 
 
 Sudden, they stopp'd above the wood-?: 
 The troop, as in expectance, stood. 
 A herald then some story told ; 
 And long the parley seeni'd to hold. 
 Novv helm met helm. Now more at large, 
 The horseman appear'd to strike the targe^ 
 Or, each at dij^tance, couch the spear, 
 As if he cried : * Avuunt to fear T— 
 
•ANTO V. A CORNISH ROMANCE. SSV 
 
 Again they paus'd. The leader's crest, 
 As he bow'd his head, deprest, 
 Now floated upwards to the sky, 
 While shook the heron-plume on high,: 
 And now a banner, full displayed, 
 Involv'd him in its wavy shade ; 
 When slowly the whole armed might 
 Wheeling of, vanish'd from the sight. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Conjecture various thro' the day, 
 What sight was this could vainly say* 
 It seem'd it was Sir Richard's troop, 
 The Knight conspicuous in the groupe ; 
 'Twas he : it was his white-war-horse ; 
 Said guilty terror—* 'twas his corse !* 
 It was, in truth, a spectre-train 
 In Mawd'§ disorder'4 brain. 
 
238 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canjo r. 
 
 IX. 
 Each moment lagg'd. The eve was still. 
 A trampling on the distant hill 
 Was heard, but only struck the ear 
 Of those who listen'd full of fear. 
 Now more distinct the clatter was nigh u 
 The Wdrdour look'd with anxious eye ;^ 
 But no one yet could he descry. 
 
 X. 
 
 As expectation hung aloof ; 
 
 At once the sound of horse or hoof 
 
 (Tho' whilom wafted by the gale)- 
 
 Was lost amid the bowery dale. 
 
 And scarce again was heard 
 
 Ere good Sir Richard's self appeared. 
 
 And, whilst a pleasure, that defied 
 
 The frost of age, with crim&on dyed 
 
 The 7Fa/*^c?z^r'5 honest cheek; 
 
 Tho' his old limbs were stitf and weak,. 
 
CANTO IT A CORNISH ROMANCE. ^S9 
 
 He hasten'd briskly down, to await 
 His master at the caslle-gate, 
 
 XL 
 
 Curvetting, his fine arched neck 
 
 Sir Richard's generous charger bent ; 
 
 And (the' the silver curb's restraint 
 
 His spirit kept in with easy check. 
 
 As now the Knight would fain dismount) 
 
 Pranc'd yet awhile with harmless sport ; 
 
 Pleas'd that the friendly castle-coi^rt 
 
 And, pebble-pav'd, the channel'd floor 
 
 At his own stall, where streamed the fount 
 
 Still spouting, met his eyes once more. 
 
 XIL 
 As beam'd o'er good Sir RvCHARd's face 
 Benevolence its godlike grace, 
 His Wardours undissembied joy 
 He maik'd, dismounting cheerily. 
 
5^0 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE can-tot. 
 
 Of middle stature, firm his mien ; 
 And, tho' from growing years were seen 
 Some hoary traces, on his head 
 But in a few thin sprinklings shed, 
 And bare was the while polish'd crown ; 
 Yet, on his forehead ruddy brown 
 If time had drawn a furrowing line, 
 'Twas either smootli'd in smiles benign. 
 Or (as some thought he ponder'd o'er) 
 Seem'd in his serious musings, more 
 Of wisdom than of age, the sign* 
 Graceful his gait drew every eye ; 
 And his fine bow, was courtesy. 
 Manly his accents. Yet no voice 
 Had sweeter tones at ball or mask : 
 Not sweeter, love itself could ask ; 
 Tho' love had an unbounded choice 
 Of those who give the melting hour 
 To dalliance soft in lady's bower. 
 
•AHTO T A CORNISH ROMANC E. ^24 1 
 
 Is not such silver sweetness found 
 Too often a deceitful sound ? 
 Not so, the Knight's. The poor, the rich, 
 The feeble folk that aid beseech, 
 The proudj the modish, and the gay. 
 All with delight his counsels heard : 
 For, not untaught, for, not uncheer'd, 
 The poor, the wealthy went their way. 
 Nor his advice in sees and saws 
 Had weight from many a solemn pause. 
 But, for its sparkling not less wise, 
 Was lighted up with pleasantries : 
 For his elastic spiritj* were gay ; 
 And quick, was fancy's vivid play. 
 
 XIIL 
 Late o'er his features mild, had care 
 And sorrow cast the pensive air. 
 Pale from his wound, and paler yet 
 From grief, the unbidden tear-drop met 
 
242 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHFXE cakto t. 
 
 His jneniars glance. But piety 
 Fervid in faith's illumin'd eye, 
 Dispers'd the mist, no longer now 
 Gathering on his dejected brow. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " We had just reach'd, at morning-peep, 
 (Sir Richard said) *' that sylvan steep ; 
 ** When from Mount-Edgcumbe in full speed 
 " A herald came, on smoking steed. 
 ''And "' haste (he cried) and thither post ' 
 *" For, threatened by a vengeful host, 
 *>* Mount Edgcumbe's flames, ere morrow 
 
 night, 
 «" May fill the traveller with affright."-' 
 ** Thither we bent our rapid course : 
 " And there will a sufficient force 
 " Protect the mansion, ere we go 
 " Right-marshal'd to avert the blow. 
 
*ANTo V. A CORNISH ROMANCR. Q45 
 
 ** But where is Isabel? Where Mawd I 
 " Come, let us the Ahiiighty laud ; 
 ** As soon its summons down the dell 
 ** Shall sweetly sound the vesper-bell ! 
 <* Let us, my friends ! now sinks the day, 
 '' For our good Lady Alice pray ! 
 <* And thank ye Him our swords who sway'd* 
 *' That we have well our queen obeyed," 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sir Richard said. But no one spoke. 
 
 Till desperate anguish silence broke, 
 
 ^' Ol she is drown'd ! — Miss Isabel !" 
 
 Cried Jesse, with a piercing yell. 
 
 «' Her love is gone I She sought the deep— 
 
 ** She lost her love--*and is asleep." 
 
 «' See— see, Sir Knight I the flashing tide— 
 
 ** Come, and rUshew you where she died !'* 
 
 y 2 
 
«44 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE ganto r. 
 
 XVi. 
 
 Frenzied her air, her strain was wild ; 
 It wander 'd haply, far from truth: 
 Yet the good Knight, suspecting ruth^ 
 Clasp'd his hands, crying : " O my child !" 
 But when reflexion's clouded gleam 
 Had brighten'd, as a clear sunbeam, 
 Sure of his daughter's steady mind. 
 Which all the woes of earth, combined, 
 Could not (and well he thought) deranged 
 Sir Richard flung 
 On Jesse a reproachful look 
 Mixt with a half contemptuous air, 
 (If ought like scorn that brow could wear) 
 And lo fond hope's suggestion clung I 
 How transient ! — With emotions strange * 
 With mingled doubt distrust and fear. 
 He saw, where all around him shook, 
 And, dreading some dire image near, 
 
•ANTO V. A CORNISH KOMANCE. $45 
 
 Where Jesse pointed, pass'd. 
 And followM, breathless and aghast, 
 (To shew what Jesse told was true, 
 And to perplex detection's clue) 
 Mawd, arm in arm with jAcauELlNE ! 
 So guilt and terror intertwine ! 
 
 XVII. 
 <* There, there (exclaim'd the Prioress) 
 " Sir Richard ! see my poor girl's dress 
 •* Flaunting adown the clitf, and torn 
 " Amidst the prickly briar and thorn 
 " That veil — and to the pale moon's gleam 
 <* Those ribbojis twinkling in the stream ! 
 ^* Oft have 1 dream'd 'twould come to 
 
 this— 
 *' Her cave so nigh the precipice !" 
 
 Y S 
 
S46 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cant< 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 There was a sort of soothing ray 
 
 Fleeted o'er good Sir Richard's breast: 
 
 Whence it arose, he could not say, 
 
 Yet felt a momentary rest. 
 
 If it be true, that buoy'd on air 
 
 Minist'ring angels whisper oft 
 
 Placid peace — assurance soft, 
 
 Tlio' hope expire, and joy no more 
 
 Can any human aid restore, 
 
 To save the righteous hwx despair ; 
 
 Haply some angcl-visitant 
 
 Was to Sir Richard sent — 
 
 His earthly comfort was but scant ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 As on the cliff's o'er-hanging brow. 
 Or in a vain pursuit below, 
 From dread or doubt or bitter woe 
 With all 'twas restless agony : — 
 Still was now the fine serene 
 
CANTO ▼. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 348 
 
 Of darkling eve's untroubled scene; 
 The-glimniering bank ; the Tamar-wave 
 That a breeze scarcely stirr'd to heave ; 
 And more and more the spangled glow 
 Of the cerulean sky ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 Its rocks as into Heaven to lift 
 
 On either side where rose the clift, 
 
 Its outline, how immense ! How deep 
 
 The grandeur of its shadowy sweep I 
 
 Ribb'd as with iron, smooth as glass, 
 
 Or icicled as with eve-drops, 
 
 Or from each crevice rough with copse, 
 
 Or fractur'd into chasms and caves, 
 
 Tufted with privet, shagg'd witli pine. 
 
 Pinnacled its top, its base 
 
 Fretted where slumber now the waves:— 
 
 Each polish, and each curving line, 
 
 The craggs, the colours dark and light. 
 
 Were mingled in one umber'd mass 
 
us FAI R ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cavto t- 
 
 Beyond the reach of sight ! — 
 
 Save whejce the stream at distance broke 
 
 Like molten silver thro' the gloom ; 
 
 Or, a broad cataract, down the rock 
 
 Whiri'd its majestic foam : 
 
 Or, tinted in the lunar ray, 
 
 Sprinkled soft its misty spray. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And now the Tamar, deep in shade, 
 Or quivering far in brightness, strayM. 
 The Knight a ripling murmur hears, 
 Now a dashing sound more nigh ; 
 When, gliding sudden on the eye, 
 A fisher's boat appears. 
 Rests on its oars the bark below*-*- 
 Two shadowy figures on the prow. 
 Their silvery vests of softer white 
 floated in the pale moonlight ! 
 They were as spirits on airy clouds 1 
 
CANTO \¥ A CORNISH ROMANCE, U^ 
 
 And Other beings fili'd the bark-r- 
 Theip forms in indistinctness dark 
 Seem'd wrapt in funeral shrouds. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Familiar to the Knight, a harp 
 That oft had calm'd affliction sharp. 
 From the boat conspicuous shone : 
 Still, it glitter'd to the moon. 
 And echo to its solemn strings 
 From her watery cavern rings. 
 
 SONO. 
 1. 
 
 Where o'er Clan-alpine's dizzy peak 
 
 He bids his ancient eyrie lour. 
 See the undaunted eagle break 
 
 Amid the severing cloud and soar, 
 Exulting in the noontide ray ! 
 He mounts into *mid heaven and drinks 
 the golden day. 
 
850 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cAKTf> t? 
 
 2, 
 
 Lord of the seas, the rocks, the sky, 
 Thro' the boundless deeps of air 
 
 Darting his undazzled eye — 
 Beyond our aching vision far 
 
 Still he ascends the seinpiternal height 
 
 Flaming on rapid wing, and lost in floods 
 of light. 
 
 3. 
 
 But sailing down the ethereal waste, 
 
 And plunging thro* the wildwood gloom 
 Lo 1 he hath pounc'd (ah cruel feast !) 
 
 On some poor little fluttering plume ! 
 Bird of the sun, with blood behold him 
 
 gor'd 1 
 Triumphant o'er the weak, survey the taw- 
 ny lord 1 
 
•4NT0 IT A CORNISH ROMANClE. S5I 
 
 Thus oft the priest on vulgar eyes 
 
 Awful in many a mystic rite, 
 Imposes holy pageantries ! 
 
 Rich is his stole, his rocket white: 
 And the jewel'd mitre's glow 
 And lo, the saintly lawn — to swell the so- 
 lemn show. 
 
 Hark, where the stern cathedral frowns^ 
 
 In its stream of music deep 
 The impetuous organ drowns 
 
 Cares that vex and woes that weep ! 
 And, as to Heaven aspires his soul, 
 His hands are lifted high, his orbs devout- 
 ly roll ! 
 
 6. 
 
 But robes may flow, and mitres blaze, 
 And sounds transport the soul far hence 
 
25$J' FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto v . 
 
 His prey the bigot lurks to seize, 
 
 Stain'd with the life of innocence f 
 Heaving his hypticritic sighs, 
 He whispers love and peace — and his 
 poor victim dies !" 
 
 XXllI/ 
 The echoed sounds were yet afloat, 
 When foUow'd this responsive note — 
 It was a voice of manly tone, 
 Tho' feeling claim'd it all her own j 
 A voice, to genuine sentiment 
 Where love it$ languid softness lent, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 ** Oiice, amidst the emerald isle. 
 With dread I saw tlie eagle bear 
 
CANTO V. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 253 
 
 Her prey, where tower'd on craggy pile 
 Her nest, tlie cradle of despair. 
 
 O'er pasture sweet, the rock below, 
 A spotless kid with pleasure stray 'd, 
 
 And chas'd, unweeting of a foe, 
 
 His brother down the flowery glade. 
 
 3. 
 
 Sudden, 1 heard a mighty wing — 
 The rush was like the raging sea— 
 
 Her aid in vain would pity bring 
 
 Poor trembling kid! to rescue thee P' 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The liquid measure died away, 
 Answer'd by a softer lay — 
 'Twas from the cliiF a witching air I 
 It was, as from some rural maid 
 
254 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, ganto r. 
 
 Whose generous truth the strain essayM, 
 Tho' love had yet a larger share. 
 
 SONG. 
 1. 
 
 " Quick to watch, and true to guard, 
 And strenuous frpm the snare to save. 
 
 The faithful reap a rich reward, 
 Snatching virtue from the grave. 
 
 2. 
 
 It is a precious recompense, 
 
 Sweet as the breeze from spicy grove : 
 
 It soothes the heart, and charms the sense- 
 Only not so sweet as love.'' 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Forms, such as angels haply are, 
 
 And sounds, as if fro^m Heaven's own choir, 
 
 The richest treasure of the lyre, 
 
CANTO T. A CORNISH ROMANCE. ^55 
 
 Were, to frenzy and despair, 
 Like guilty beings that had burst 
 The cearments of the sepuIchres^ — 
 Were Hke the bowlings of the accurst 
 To the murderer's restless ears. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 ** I know you well — I know you well! " 
 Cried Mawd with a dire maniac yell— 
 " They beckon, beckon me to hell !" 
 « I did it ! I did it T'— the Prioress cried, 
 And seizing her quick, with a mad clasp 
 
 embraced, [round her waist, - 
 And in serpent folds twisted, close, clos^ 
 With Mawd in her arms from the preci- 
 pice sprang ! 
 To the wild leap the hollow rocks rang ! 
 O'er their bodies the water-spray flash'd; 
 And their teeth they in agony gnash'd^ 
 As they sank in the foam of the tide. 
 
 z 2 
 
556 FAIR 1 SABEL OF COTEHELE, canto- t. 
 
 Conclusion to Canto fifth. 
 1. 
 
 Yes ! tho' the stain of guilt were black and 
 deep, [Priest / 
 
 See 'midst his mystic rites, the absolving 
 Lo, e'en if blood the pale stilletto steep, 
 From murder the polluted wretch releast! 
 Yet in the throbbing heart hath con- 
 science ceas'd ? [ing died ? 
 Hath, on the cheek, the last blush linger- 
 
 Ah ! still a secret feeling gnaws the breast; 
 And he, afraid of man, who God defied 
 Shall, all unshriev'd, expirCj the abandon'd 
 suicide ! 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
Ci^e fair Sjjsabel of Cotel^ele* 
 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 mXRODUCTlON TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 L 
 
 In Edward's age, the castle Wdv'd in air 
 
 (To festal music tho' its gallery rang) 
 From its black battlements the flag of war ; 
 And its hall echoed to the martial clang I 
 'Tvvas then to proud Restormal'S ram- 
 parts sprang 
 The centinel, to mark who lurk'd below : 
 From old Lanherne, 'twas then the bow. 
 man Strang 
 And thro' barr'd windows bent his twang- 
 ing bow : [the threatening foe. 
 The foss, the bulwark scorn'd, high-flankt. 
 
260 INTRODUCTION 
 
 II. 
 
 But, not in Mary's days, the bridge, the moat, 
 The prong'd portcullis, massy window- 
 bars. 
 Frown as before ; nor warlike ensigns float 
 From the broad turrets ; nor, terrific, jars 
 The iron-studded door; nor haughty war's 
 Still-reeking armoury asks new founts of 
 blood : 
 The half-uncastled mansion now appears 
 Where rough the dark Baronial fortress 
 
 stood ; 
 And cheerful radiance streams, where 
 scowFd suspicion's brood. 
 
 III. 
 
 Say, whence, in those last days, the auspi- 
 cious change ? 
 
 No more in savage independence stern. 
 Breathing fierce war, or plotting fell revenge. 
 
 Baronial chiefs with rival ardour burn 1 — 
 
INTRODUCTION. 261 
 
 But (ah how late the lesson !) taught to- 
 yearn 
 O'er woes amidst contentious folly rife, 
 Alas ! the brother fall'n, the sire they 
 mourn 
 Erst victims to hereditary strife, 
 And hail the lovely forms that spring from^ 
 milder life. 
 
THE 
 
 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, 
 A CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO SIXTH. , 
 
C^e fair ^mtl of Coteljelr^ 
 
 ^ CORNISH ROMANCE. 
 
 CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 L ULL on Edgcumbe's-aiount, awhile^ 
 The sun efFusM a vivid smile ; 
 And half the lovely wave-girt scene 
 Was flusht as with a faery sheen. 
 And, tho' they drank no genial light, 
 The blossom'd laurestine and bay, 
 And myrtles woo'd the gilding ray i 
 Ere-Iong to mourn a night 
 
 A a 
 
•JC6 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto vi. 
 
 "J liat would their green leaves whirl away, 
 And rifle every flowering spray. 
 
 II. 
 
 Far to the East the extensive seas 
 Were i uflled by the rising breeze ; 
 I'ho' the huge promontory's shade 
 Was o'er a smooth expanse display 'd, 
 And soft the waters fain would flow 
 To kiss the silver sands below. 
 
 III. 
 
 Nearer now, the labouring deep 
 Arose, as one enormous wave I 
 Then would another billow heave. 
 Vast and unbroken ! Without foam 
 It seem'd one mass of steely gloom ; 
 Till, swelling to a haughtier height, 
 With sl^uddering sweep, 
 It burst against a bellying rock : 
 
CANTO ri. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 167 
 
 And a long ridge of white 
 
 Rush'd o'er the sea, like furnace-smoke ; 
 
 Or, like the high-maned troop of horse 
 
 That, in their headlong course 
 
 All iron-black, toss fiery frotli 
 
 Amidst the sabre's wrath ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now, as with a loosen'd roar, 
 Did surges whiten, far and widq, 
 And lash the beachland, as in ire,' 
 O'er the sands then breaking slide, 
 Then in revulsion quick retire 
 From the dark moaning shore. 
 And the welkin a dense cloud o'ercast 
 Pavilioning the Atlantic waste ; 
 Where a sea-gull squadron wheel'd 
 In dizzy flight, and downwards reel'd, 
 And mounting their snow-pinions pour'd i 
 The dense cloud blacken'd as they soar'd. 
 Aa 2 
 
263 ^AIR ISA BEL OF COTEH KLE cAlSfro vt. 
 
 V. , 
 Firm-bas'd and garreted around, 
 Four stately towers the mansion crown'd. 
 There a lorn oak^ in deep decay, 
 '111 at had seen ages roll away, 
 5ole relic of an ancient wood 
 Which wav'd where now the mansion stood, 
 In lurid light appear'd to lour. 
 As frowning on the Eastern to"wer : 
 And its boughs bent low with many a 
 
 creak, 
 Prelusive of some coming wreck : 
 Then, swelling o'er the rampir'd height-, 
 As it arose in all its might. 
 From- its vast hollow oft did part 
 A groan, as from a broken heai^. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sir Richard, ere the storm grew dark, 
 Had reach 'd Mount-Edgcumbe's spacious 
 park ; 
 
CANTO rr. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 5€9 
 
 And, now assur'cP from fresh alarms 
 That no false tale of men in arms 
 Had met his ear, his menials all 
 Arrang'd around the scutcheon'd hall; 
 Flung open the wide entrance-gate, 
 * And bade them there the foe await. 
 
 VIL 
 
 Nor long ere, buffeting the blast, 
 The troop those island-wate^ pass'd 
 Where danger in its deadliest form 
 Rode on the ridges of the storm, 
 A^id now wound up in rapid march 
 The hill, and threaded the gate-way arch, 
 And the hall enter'd, unoppos'd, 
 Their beavers down, their vizors clos'd. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 There was a shivering thrill. But the roar 
 Of the winds without, scarce echoed more, 
 A .a 3 
 
CJO TAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cant<. v^. 
 
 Than the clash of ^rmour'now within, 
 The bossy shield, the helmei's din. 
 
 IX. 
 
 It was the clash of shields dash'd down, 
 
 Of falchions o'er the rush'd floor thrown ; 
 
 Of peaceful gauntlets prompt to tell 
 
 No stern defiance as they fell ; 
 
 While foemen friends, and whispering masks 
 
 Obeisant plumes, obsequious casques, 
 
 Fair hands, that all so ill aUied 
 
 To war, the cupids lov'd to link, 
 
 The flower-soft finger's living pink 
 
 That whilom tremulously tried 
 
 In feebleness to lift a lance — 
 
 Now wav'd, soliciting the dance; 
 
 The muscular strong arm, the wrist 
 
 Bony and rough, amidst the list 
 
 Well suited to the battle-axe, 
 
 That did its ligaments relax 
 
rANTO VI A CORNISH ROMANCE. 171 
 
 To lady-palm like virgin-wax, 
 And many a Flora-figure gliding, 
 And shapes of bulky stature striding — 
 Were, as the vision'd trains that pass 
 In necromancer's glass. 
 
 X. 
 
 Above the rest, of brawny limb, 
 Masking, I trow, a visage grim, 
 Stalk'd, as inur'd to stern command, 
 The leader of the motley band — 
 He stalk'd, as from some giant haunt. 
 Like Ashtaroth or Termagaunt 
 Cas'd in a mail of adamant. 
 
 XL 
 
 And lightly fluttered at the side 
 Of this redoubted champion — 
 Of border-bard, it seem'd, a son ; 
 His green-silk garb \^ith ribbons tied : 
 
S72 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto ti. 
 
 The stripling was alert and young ; 
 A harp across his shoulder flung. 
 
 XII, 
 
 Scarce had Sir Richard courteous bow'dj 
 
 And welcom'd the mysterious crowd, 
 
 Ere open the folding doors flew, 
 
 Disclosing to the astpnisht view 
 
 A golden-fretted dome ; 
 
 Rich lamps illumining the room 
 
 And flinging round a rainbow light, 
 
 Purple and green and ruby -bright, 
 
 And full upon the orchestra streaming, 
 
 Oil hautboy, lute and organ beaming, 
 
 But resting with a faery glow 
 
 On two slight forms that sat below. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Both attir'd in snowy vests 
 Arose (the stranger guests 
 
CANTO yi. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 2'73 
 
 Now entering) and tho' masked each face, 
 
 And save their vizors, all was white, 
 
 Seem'd circled, as with halos light 
 
 Of glory and of grace 1 
 
 Equal in stature, they both shone 
 
 Inspiring reverence. Yet was one 
 
 More like a habitant of air. 
 
 More like celestial vision fair ; 
 
 While trembled to her panting breast 
 
 The little cherub Love, exprest 
 
 On a clear onyx-stone 
 
 That, set in gold, drew witchingly 
 
 To its fine sculpture -every eye 1 
 
 Touch'd by the tool of graver nice, 
 
 How delicate the sweet device 1 
 
 Love, there, a coffin-lid unclosing, 
 
 Fann'd with his little purple plume 
 Some form in slumber pale reposing — 
 
 -Soft lustre dawning thro' the gloom. 
 
«74 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto yi. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The orchestra rings. The pairs advance, 
 
 To thrid the mazes of the dance ; 
 
 Or tripping on the feathery toe ; 
 
 Or bounding, rapid as the roe ; 
 
 Or mark'd amidst the various throng 
 
 By firmer step and statelier gait ; 
 
 Or, bidding, as they swim along, 
 
 Joyance every movement wait ! 
 
 The laugh, the whisper quaint went round, 
 
 Feign'd tones conjecture to confound ; 
 
 The hand was squeezed, the sigh was sent 
 
 To meet some sigh congenial, meant j 
 
 And, by its cincture ill-represt, 
 
 Heav'd with high swell the tender breast. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Still the old harper's watchful eyes 
 
 Suspicious of the soft disguise 
 
 Look'd back ; nor fearless yet repos'd ; 
 
•ANTorr A CORNISH ROMANCE. 875 
 
 But (oft from the hall-floor's rushes green 
 As a lance's or target's quick glitter was 
 
 seen) 
 The folding doors with caution clos'd. 
 
 XVL 
 
 The music ceas'd. And, opening wide 
 
 Flew back as if by magic slide, 
 
 A pannel high on either side. 
 
 And down a flight of steps, was seen 
 
 Far beneath, and far within, 
 
 A viand-cover'd board — outstretcht 
 
 Beyond where the eye straining reach'd. 
 
 And radiant to the dazzled sight 
 
 Amidst a long, long stream of light. 
 
 XVII. 
 Down the steps rustled now amain, 
 Or tramp'd the festive train. 
 
276 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cakto ^t 
 
 And some aloof, and some in groupe, 
 Their masks thrown off, their beavers up, 
 Caught the hurried— the blank gaze 
 From terror, transport, and amaze i 
 Ardent gratulations rung ; 
 Good wishes dropp'd from many a tongue — 
 Wishes that brought to christmas dear, 
 The assurance of " a happy year V 
 And there were silent looks, that stole 
 Rapture, blending soul with soul — 
 But still the wild incredulous stare 
 And dread and pleasure mingled there. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Yet foremost in the social bond 
 
 And of his earliest pastimes fond, 
 
 With admiration look'd around 
 
 On knights and ladies, old Chamond ! 
 
 Full many a board with friendship crown'd^ 
 
CASTori A CORNISH ROMANCE. 27T 
 
 And many a scene in camp and court 
 
 Of grave debate or gay resort, 
 
 And many a chance, and many a change 
 
 Had the Knight witnessed ; but, so strange 
 
 The events developed to his eyes — 
 
 Such ne'er before had raisM suiprize ! 
 
 And Campernulph and rough Trelask, 
 
 Treiawney too stripp'd off his mask. 
 
 All honest independent son 
 
 Of worthies who had laurels won ; 
 
 But in whose ears pride oft would ring 
 
 Perchance that hoary-sculptur'd rhyme 
 
 Which strove to send to distant time 
 
 His chivalrous old she and king: 
 
 * Hee tliat will do ought for mee, 
 
 *Let him love well Sir John Th'lawnie !* 
 
 And he, whose sire from Lisboa's shore 
 
 'Midst blazing galleys dash'd the Moor^ 
 
 Reflected from the ruddy deep 
 
 As broad fires dyed Almada's steep; 
 
 fib / 
 
2^ FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cAvre « 
 
 Who now in a papistic age 
 Offer'd his Cornwall's ready tear, 
 Softening the scowl severe 
 Of Mary^s bigot rage ! 
 And fair Mohun and faithful Saulc 
 Dismiss'd their vizors, one and all ! 
 And he, too, from his hoar Lanherne, 
 In rich ancestral honours stern, 
 Who bore the long-transmitted stamp 
 Of merit from the trophied camp. 
 And drew a splendour not his own 
 From Exon's proud prelatic throne ; 
 And he, from Karnbre's Druid gloom 
 Darkening the crenallated dome ; ^ 
 And that warm chi'ef, whose patriot love 
 First kindled in the eagle grove ; 
 And Caerminow whom, east away, 
 And where pale Hesper slopes its ray,* 
 Manerial vassals did obey, 
 
<j^NTO VI, A CORNISH ROMANCE. tl9 
 
 Whose British sire bade scythed war 
 
 Hang on the Roman's routed rear ; 
 
 And high Godolphin (fond to pour 
 
 His generous soul in courtly cheer, 
 
 Where all his hills were glittering ore) 
 
 To loyal zeal and wisdom dear ; 
 
 And, liberal as the solar beam, 
 
 St. Aubyn sprung from Norman stem j 
 
 And he, whose sea-borne father fled, 
 
 As his white horse (the legend said) 
 
 Did stoutly cleave 
 
 The roaring wave, 
 
 Where was whehii'd, one mighty wrecks 
 
 Amidst the unearthly shriek 
 
 Of desperation and distress, 
 
 With its hundred towers, the Lionesse J 
 
 XIX. 
 Nor Buxom beauty on the wane 
 Or undecay'd, shone all in vain. 
 Bb 2 
 
C«0 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEflELE, cakto yi. 
 
 Where to its horned front the Rame 
 Courts o'er the surge the orient's flame, 
 To dark Bolerium's westering shade ; 
 Issued the laughter-loving dame, 
 To crimson hood with ermine dight 
 And graceful wimple snowy-white 
 And curPd hair frounc'd and curious rufF 
 And broider'd vest and stitf brocade 
 To attract the notice that admires ; 
 And of young damsels store enou^^h 
 To raise the tumult of desires 
 Which " vermeil-tinctur'd lips" awake, 
 And tresses like thdt morning-break I 
 
 XX, 
 But Campernulph beside, sat one-^— 
 All in a nook, a fair Unknown ! 
 And, apprehensive of some ill 
 The coming moment might disclose, 
 
CANTO Yi. A CORNISH KO.HANCK. 2 3 1 
 
 On CAMPeRNULPH, from out her nook, 
 She oft did cast a timid look ! 
 Breathing sweetness, where the rill 
 To lave its bank of verdure flows, 
 The lily, delicate and pale, 
 Seeks from the boisteious gale 
 In its deep leaves a sheltering shade ! 
 So sweet (it seem'd) and all so frail, 
 The little trembler droop'd her head ! 
 Of every murmur was afraid 
 That lily of the vale I 
 Lifting her eyes, for aid 
 They fain would ask she knew not why^ 
 Spontaneous to Coiehele's fair maid, 
 O ' they were fix'd where loveliness 
 Tiie mourner did rejoice to bless I 
 And from Cotehde's fair maid there fell 
 On the meek stranger such a ray 
 As chas'd her every fear away ! 
 .And it repos'd — so sisterly — 
 
 B b 3 
 
2S2 FAIR ISABEi OF COTEHELE, canto ti. 
 
 So balmy — it resembled well 
 A sunbeam on that lily's bell I 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Claiming from all a mute regard, 
 Stepp'd forth the gray-hair*d bard. — 
 '* I wonder not, in such amaze 
 " Still moi'e and more the good folks gaze! 
 '^ I wonder not, Lady Alice, so lost, 
 '* Appals every countenance her^ like ^ 
 
 ghost 1 
 *' And that bright ai^gel, Isabel ! — 
 ** But a strange tale 'tis mine to tell, 
 *' A tale of dire and bigot strife^ 
 •< Of murder bringing death to life !! 
 
 XXIL 
 
 "Fat was good Sir Richard gone, 
 ** Summon'd by duty'^ haughty tone, 
 " 1 pitied, now left all alone 
 
CANTO Ti. A COHNISH ROMANCE. S83 
 
 "** My poor young mistress from my heart, 
 •* Suspecting plots from Romish art. 
 ** But, by a lucky chance 'twas mine 
 **(The year's first night in terror past, 
 <' As now the clock went one) 
 ^' To overhear that Jacqueline 
 ■** Close in converse with the Priest i 
 " Each word my boding fears increas'd. 
 ** They said they had trac'd out (I ween 
 ** Thanking high popery and its queen) 
 *' Fair Isabel in every scheme, * 
 
 " Led by her love's romantic dream. 
 ^ Much of a Carmelite old Friar 
 " Fostering Erizey's amourous fire— 
 ** Much of Erizey did they speak, 
 " Erst prone to pray and prone to fight, 
 ** A Pa/m^r-saint, a gallant knight ; 
 ** And much, too, of a stranger- Gr<?d^ ; — 
 ** Their guests, who scarce an hour before 
 '* Bade the hall echoe to the roar 
 
284 FAIR ISABEL OF COT^HELE canto vi. 
 
 " Of songs and broils and drunken glee — 
 
 *' Alas 1 no welcome guests to me ! — 
 
 " The Friar with stratagems so stor'd 
 
 " How they extoll'd, and how deplor'd 
 
 *' Mutual, the abortive spousal-rite 
 
 ' • Work of that crafty Carraelite ; 
 
 ** Yet whispering — ' ForERizEY's gold 
 
 *** The subtle Friar his soul hath sold 1' — 
 
 " Describ'd how, worn by wounds and toil 
 
 '* And by his conscience stung the while, 
 
 " Erizey had confessed his thirst 
 
 ** For young Trevanion's blood, and curst 
 
 ** The duel in the dale of Glynn, 
 
 *' And had disclosed a plot 
 
 *^ With the arch-priest of death and sin, 
 
 " Which bore of guilt the broadest blot, 
 
 ** And, dreadful to the standers by, 
 
 ** Had just expir'd in agony. 
 
 " They said, indeed, that, 'on their faith 
 
 ** (Muffling up within theb: teeth 
 
CANTO Tj A CORNISH ROMANCE. «aS 
 
 ** Eadi word with a suspicious shrug) 
 
 *** They were afraid some poisonous drug 
 
 *'* Had bid the Palmer's spirit depart — • 
 
 ^" The modern Greek well knew the art.' 
 
 ** But half their hints to me were daik. 
 
 <* The castle in affright 
 
 ^' Had seen the falling, fainting Knight — 
 
 *' For only in a swoon, 'twas said, 
 
 ** Erizey dropp'd — he was not dead I 
 
 ^* And, each maneuvre tir'd to mark, 
 
 ** I to my coijch had slunk away, 
 
 ^* Had I not heard the beldame say— 
 
 " Nay, in quick concert heard tliem both : 
 
 *" Isabel shall swear an oath 
 
 *<* That nun slie will be, nothing loath ; 
 
 **' Or, by the mass, to greet her eyes, 
 
 *** No — never more the sun shall rise! 
 
 *" But, clos'd up in my lady's vault, 
 
 {^** It is the heretic's own fault) 
 
286 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto n 
 
 '* 'Shall her cold arms, ere the Knight return, 
 *" Have clasp'd in death her mother's urn/ 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 '^ As I had known, for many a day, 
 
 ** A secret subterranean way, 
 
 ** Up to the vault from Tamar's tide, 
 
 " Tho' shook my frame, I thither hied, 
 
 ^' And enter'd it, all unespied, 
 
 ** 'Twas, thro' a small dim iron doof 
 
 {" By lichens long encrusted o'er) 
 
 " Far in the windings <>f Isabel's cav^ 
 
 *' I stole, as dash'd below the wave ; 
 
 " And thro' the noisome passage crept 
 
 «' To where interr'd Lady Alice slept. 
 
 XXIV. 
 ^* There, scarce as in the den of death 
 <« For pale expectance I drew breath, 
 
^mm Ti A CORNISH ROMANCE. 281 
 
 ** Listening to low gales murmuring by, 
 
 ** I started from a heavy sigh. 
 
 ** For a few seconds all was hush'd — 
 
 ** It seem'd as if to stir the shade 
 
 ^ The very gales were now afraid ! 
 
 ^ But again a moan, 
 
 * A deeper sob, a human groan 
 
 ^* With horror did I hear ! 
 '^When, on by some strange impulse 
 pusht, 
 
 ^ Where lay my lady I ventured near ! 
 
 ** And with amaze did I perceive 
 
 " Yet hardly could my sense believe 
 
 " Her body not at rest ; 
 
 " And, from wild hope at once grown bold, 
 
 ** Her icy hand's weak pulses press'd 
 
 ** And rais'd her from her coffin cold ; 
 
 '* And, midst the charnel shiverings dark, 
 
 *^ Welcomed her life's rekindling spark,—* 
 
ns FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cakto tf. 
 
 ** Tho' scarce, — before I heard 
 ** The massy door above unbarr'd : 
 ♦* And woefully its hir.ges jarr'd. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 *' Ere I could reach the steps, it closM 
 *< Thundering. — That instant interposed, 
 •* I sav'd — I sav'd dear Isabel I 
 " My voice v\ras not a funeral knell — 
 " She knew the poor old harper well I 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 <* But to be brief. I simply say— 
 
 <' They were restor'd to liberal day ! 
 
 *' For how they look'd, or what their plight? 
 
 ** Bath'd again in balmy light, 
 
 " And what they utter'd, or how sigh'd, 
 
 " Descended now to Tamar's tide, 
 
 <* No bard could tell. Their frames (from 
 
 pain 
 " And terror feeble,) to sustain. 
 
(TANTO vr A CORNISH ROMANCE. ft^ 
 
 " It was a gt ntious seavia7i*s pride) 
 
 ** But, of his truth and honesty 
 
 ** Jesse^ perchance, knows more than I. 
 
 ** In his neat cabin not in vain 
 
 ** Brought back to genial Hfe again, 
 
 " And gliding in his little skiff 
 
 •* Beneath the perilous cliff, 
 
 *' What raptur'd eyes my ladies bless'd ! 
 
 " Chaste in radiance pure, the moon 
 
 ** On forms more heavenly never shone \ 
 
 ** Sir Knighl ! I dare not tell the rest.-*- 
 
 XXVIL 
 
 " But, by the rood, I'll add at least, 
 ** Full quickly disappeared the Priest ; 
 ** Perhaps, amidst his web of wiles^ 
 ^* To bask beneadi queen Mary's smiles. 
 *' Pardon — such scenes reservM to see*-* 
 ^* An oid man garrulous and iree*'* 
 
 t € 
 
tM FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, oamm n 
 
 XXVIIl. 
 When cried the one in emerald vest, 
 ('Twas Edward, erst the minstrel-guest) 
 *' In sooth, with wonder and with fear, 
 " Tale so romantic strikes my ear ! 
 " Then, it was he, to reason lost — 
 *^ My love it was Erizey cross'd ! 
 *' Then, it was he (mysterious Heaven I) 
 '* Against tliis arm was driven ! 
 '* Yes ! by this arnii 1 deem'd hinj slain^ 
 ** And mingled with my uncle's train. 
 *' But when the desperate fray was done, 
 '* To the same spot did 1 repair ; 
 ** Where one, whom I believe 
 *' Holy as reverend fathers arc, 
 " Hung over him, as in act to shrievc. "^ 
 " Ah ! bitter unction doom'd to share, 
 ** I left the wretch full soon, 
 " I feel~*-to an assassin's cave ! » 
 
•AWWTi A CORNISH ROMANCE. 591 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 '* To Launceston-keep 'twas mine to go, 
 
 " Yet trusting to a generous foe, 
 
 ^ To worth aye prompt its aid to lend, 
 
 ** A foe af state, a secret friend ! 
 
 " Thro' him, long since^ our Mary bent 
 
 ^' Oil Trevanion's punishment, 
 
 " Was soften'd, ready to relent : 
 
 ** But o'er her wavering mind its gloom 
 
 ^* Return'd ; and she pronounc'd his doom. 
 
 XXX. 
 " My uncle to his prison consigned, 
 " For some few hours I bade farewell ; 
 " And fleet as on the wings of wind 
 " Rode eastward to my Isabel ! 
 " But, as 1 retraced my way, 
 " In vain my bosom sought repose — 
 «« Ah I Isabel ! that Palmer'' s lay ! 
 ** How sharp a thorn had Sharon's rose ! 
 
 cc 2 
 
^n FjLlR ISABEL OP COTEItELR, <M»Ta T>, 
 
 ^* E'en when I saw like felon-wight * 
 
 *-^ TiiEVANioN to the scaffold led» 
 
 ** All Jordan dariQ'd before my sight,. 
 
 ** And all the balms of Gilead bled- 
 
 ^^ Vet the swe^t image of a hearty 
 
 i* A heart that n^'er deceiv'd, 
 
 ** Bade from my soi^l its bpdings part> 
 
 •* And every grief relieved ! 
 
 ** I wish'd no more !" — (Half Edward said 
 
 In whisj.crs to his listening maid.) 
 
 ** But, as I saw advance 
 
 •* The axe to deal the deadly blow^ 
 
 *' kecover'd from my trance^ 
 
 " 1 recoird f\:om fear and woe {; 
 
 xxxr. 
 
 *' O'er Dunheved's spcctred towers , 
 •* Echoing the minute-moans of night, 
 *' Had broken the morning light ; 
 ** Ai^d late kd on the pallid houiv??. 
 
CANTO ▼! A CORNISH ROMANCfi. 9«3 
 
 ** The victim scaffold, (far beneath 
 •* Chambers that terrifk breathe 
 ** The spuit of long-laps'd ages back) 
 ** Yet frowning froai on highr— 
 ** Its funereal vesture black 
 * To every pale uplifted eye ^ 
 *• Appear'd to shake disdainfully. 
 ** The prisoner on the crowds around 
 *< More aweful than his scatfold frown'd, 
 •* But spare me such a story — spare — 
 ** The axe was rais'd in ajr— 
 *' The keen-edg'd axe, to strike the blow; 
 " When a herald as of fire 
 *' The winding valley whizz'd along. 
 •' To blast on blast Dunheved rung ! 
 " And ''* pardon '" from above, below, 
 ** Pardon '" proclaim'd by every tongue, 
 '*' From age to youth, from son to sire, 
 ** Electric, lightened up the throng!'*; 
 
 c c 5 
 
W4 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto vi. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Young Edward paus'd ; then cast a look 
 
 Expressing more than muse can tell 
 
 On his own Isabel — 
 
 Then with new agitation shook. 
 
 As he his parting gift survey 'd 
 
 That, brilUanton her bosom, ray'd 
 
 A light on each mysterious line. 
 
 And, sooth to say, he had little thought 
 
 How emblamatic the design 
 
 Was destin'd soon to be ! 
 
 And how prophetic, how divine 
 
 Was that sweet poesy 
 
 Enaraour'd virtue wrote ! 
 
 For utterance Edward vainly strove, 
 
 To speak the miracles of love. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 Abruptly when Trev anion rose — 
 A heartsmile hastened to compose, 
 
«AUTo VI. A CORNISH ROMANCE. »^5 
 
 His curled lip of pride, 
 
 And to relax his rugged brows. 
 
 And " Generous Valetort !" he cried-— 
 
 " 'Twas thine my pardon to bestow : 
 
 ** The scaffold to thy queen I owe ! 
 
 "To Mary, oft to death inclined, 
 
 *' It was thy first, thy last report — 
 
 " It was thy sentence, Valetort f 
 
 « That fixM the bigot's fickle mind. 
 
 " Courteous I come, then — greeting thee ! 
 
 '* Forgive this martial mummery . 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " Crimes, axes, prisons disappear I 
 " Yet lurk there still two culprits here. 
 " Thou art turn'd coward, by my troth ! 
 (Trevanion grinn'd and swore an oath) 
 '* Thou, who didst couch the heroic lance, 
 ** A dastard at a lady's glance I — 
 
«SMJ FAIF ISABEL O? COTEHFLf^, caw* tu 
 
 '* But let US Spare her timid charms — 
 " i give thee, nephew 1 to her ann^^'* 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Yes ^ (Valetort exclaims) he well; 
 
 *' Deiierves my gentle Isabel ! 
 
 " And when the sixth sun shall appear 
 
 *' ^jince opeii'd this heart-thriliing ycai^. 
 
 •* Shall nuptial rites in fair array 
 
 *^ Distinguish our piime houdciy. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Health to my spuit was, instant, brought 
 ** As I appioach'd the lam a\ -stream : 
 ** My good eld Minstie's smile I caught ; 
 *' His features met the brigrit mooii-beam* 
 •^ His harp-tones bdde my soul rejoice y 
 '* And JL uad cOiii.o. t in. u.s \ oice . 
 
CAKTO vi. A CORNISH ROMANCE 9M 
 
 ** But had not Isabel been restored 
 
 " To a fond father's arms, 
 
 ** And Alice hail'd her grieving lord 
 
 *^* As by a miracle from the (fead, 
 
 ^ My heralds, strait equipp d, had spread 
 
 *^ Among my wonttd guests thealarms— 
 
 •* The mourn fui hatchment trembling here, 
 
 ** And sombrous shadows, for the cheer 
 
 ^^ That now brings in the giadsome year*. 
 
 XXXVlf. 
 
 ^ Well met, my friends » tho' pictured out 
 *' Hy troubled funcy, care and doubt, 
 " I own, I saw some rebel rout. 
 •« And I had gathering fears — till late 
 ** Expecting, it the castle-gatc^ 
 ^ My Christmas friends— I saw not one I ^ 
 ^ ' fwas then, perchance, in Plym's (uii\^ 
 tpwnp 
 
«H FAIR ISAB^EL OF COTEHELE «A^Ta ? i. 
 
 *• My foeman in^disguise — I guess'd — 
 
 " Had all into his service press'd ; 
 
 «* And, as I hop*d this night would prove 
 
 «^ The invader- s strides but feats of love, 
 
 " I order'd my domestic train 
 
 " To lighten up these walls again !" 
 
 » 
 XXXVIII. 
 And new the providential scheme 
 That featured but a few short days, 
 RevealM to every eye did secm^ 
 Miraculous, m all its maze ; 
 When, 'midst a universal hum, 
 William approaeh'd the banquet-room : 
 And there was heard a heavy groan I 
 The festal goblet in suspense 
 Quiver-d ! And over all 
 Again had apprehension thrown 
 Its pleasure-damping pall ! 
 *' Sir Knight ! we bear" (the sailor cries) 
 *^ A man whose story, ere he dies. 
 
•ANTOYi, A CORNISH ROMANCE, %m 
 
 " Claims instant audience. 
 ^* He, who was call'd the GarmeliUy 
 ^ And father Nicholas bedight 
 ** in raiment odd, (the Monk — a Greek-— 
 ** The Priest apparel'd, Uke a Shiek, 
 " As some one said— all Aiabasque — ) 
 *^ Pui:sued, it seems, this martial masque, 
 *• To mingle widi my lords, intent ; 
 *^ Tho' with all the prowlcrs's scent, 
 " On felon acts ferocious bent . 
 ** But to flinders on a rock 
 ** Their skiff the boiling billows broke^ 
 " The Prtesi went down, to rise no more . 
 ^* While mangled and half-dead I bore 
 
 ** This Carmelite to the shore. 
 
 " Snatcht but a moment from tlie grave 
 
 ** He saw himself a corse ; 
 
 '* And, goaded by remorse, 
 
 '* Strait to my charge this casket gave.*' 
 
*G# FAm rSABEL OF COTEHELE, «ANTe ^ 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 liie silver casket Isabel 
 
 And Lady Alice knew full welK 
 
 Thro' all their veins strange thrillings ran* ' 
 
 The Prioiei,^ — ''tvvas her talisman' — 
 
 She oft would mutter — *on her faiths 
 
 ' T© open it, were death/ 
 
 XL. 
 " I found it on the Tamar-bank'*-^ 
 (Moan'd the Monk—\i\^ voice was choakty 
 ** That sorceress — there her carcase sank ! 
 «* It would disclose a taie 
 *' Of moment, aye how much to me-^^ 
 ** And mine (she said) it soon should be ^ 
 *' Sworn as I was in criu)e to assist 
 ** Herself and her con t plotting FriesL 
 *' Bv t her words wildly sht ' evok'd, 
 ** At hei own promise, deaUi; paie% 
 
CANTO rr ^ A CORNISH ROMANCE. 501 
 
 '* It tells, indeed, a tale how deep, 
 
 " To bid the greenwoods of Cotehek — 
 
 " The gayest greenwoods weep. 
 
 " Yet did I meditate a blow 
 
 '^ To plunge you in profounder woe — 
 
 " Lo, here the phial — here the steel I 
 
 *' The casket speaks of lady fair, 
 
 *' A lady of a high degree — 
 
 " (I meant a perjur'd oath to swear 
 
 ** That I had rifled all her charms) 
 
 *' Whom, if accorded to my arras, 
 
 *' I would, as hounds explore the lair, 
 
 " Have hunted over earth and sea ! 
 
 " But, if refused her — well I knew 
 
 '' The use of drugs and daggers too !" 
 
 XLI. 
 O'er all his bloodless countenance 
 That olive hue was one dead ash ; 
 
 D d 
 
50f FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ri. 
 
 And, flickering in their sockets tense, 
 From his eyes of fire did fierceness flash ; 
 And his breath grew short — ^Therc was 
 
 no cure, 
 As, fastening on a canker'd heart, 
 Stings from a demon bade him start ! 
 As for some clue, all looked around. 
 Nor meaning in a story found 
 So incoherent and obscure. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Then, rising with a rending groan, 
 <• It were some little to atone 
 " For guilt"— he cried— *'ifspar'd to tell 
 " What at her birth, what since befell* 
 " The lost Matilda, hapless maid, 
 '' Cherisht by crime, by crime betray 'd, 
 '' That maiden (as these papers show) 
 ** Nurst at Plym's nunnery, nurst for woe, 
 
CANTO Yi. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 303 
 
 (He look'd up hideously and smii'd) 
 
 •' Was lady Alice's own child. 
 
 " She, weetless infant ! soon as born, 
 
 " Was from my lady's bosom torn 
 
 *' (For on that bosom fever prey'd) 
 
 " And to the nunnery strait conveyed, 
 
 •* And there, at Jacqueline's behest, 
 
 ** Confided to an alien breast. 
 
 " The hireling-nurse soon died — 'tis said — 
 
 " Perhaps from nunnery-poison dead — • 
 
 " When a babe was to the castle brought : 
 
 " And my lady lent a mother's smile 
 
 " To her own infant— as she thought— - 
 
 *^ It was a changeling, all the while. 
 
 ** Yes ! little Mawd (of lineage base) 
 
 ** Who now usurp'd Matilda's place, 
 
 ** That changeling — so my faith inclines — 
 
 ^' Was the nun's own — was Jacqueline's. 
 
 *' For, tho' her meanness lick'd the dust 
 
 ** Where avarice groped, and gloted lust, 
 
 Dd 2 
 
304 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ri 
 
 jt Ambition soar'd in her designs. 
 
 *' And — for a Prioress — what lynx eyes 
 
 *' Can pierce her chamber-mysteries ? 
 
 ** Meantime the girl, of noble blood, 
 
 " Brought up among the sisterhood, 
 
 *' The prim superior did caress 
 
 ** In pity to the motherless 1 
 
 " And sweet Matilda's modest mien, 
 
 " When 'twas my fate, alas ! to fall 
 
 ** Sore wounded nigh the nunncry-wall — 
 
 *' Her streaming eye — her tendance kind 
 
 *' So won my heart, so struck my mind, 
 
 ** That, ere she had attain'd sixteen, 
 
 *' (Poor recompense for so much care) 
 
 ** 1 bore away the unpractis'd fair. 
 
 '* But meeting an intrepid Knight 
 
 *' Ere many a mile had bent our course, 
 
 ** I yielded to determin'd force 
 
 *^ The shrieking maid^ and in quick flight 
 
CANTO Ti. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 605 
 
 " My country fled, as one undone : 
 
 ** For I had deem'd my nymph a nun ; 
 
 '^ And knew too well, nor tears nor tune 
 
 *' Could expiate or wash out the crime. 
 
 " Yet undiscover'd, yet concealed 
 
 " (The casket says) from prying eye 
 
 " She lives 1 On her left breast anneal'd 
 
 " A sti'awberry glows, and bright the dye ; 
 
 " Tho' never to my sight reveal'd — 
 
 " For me, she is all purity 1 
 
 ** But O ! A curse I cannot flee — 
 
 " Heaven's curse pursues a wretch like me ! 
 
 *' O! my offences have been rank 
 
 ** From Jordan's shores to Tamar's bank, 
 
 ** See — 5ee the Gre€/i ! — Again he bleeds 5 
 
 ^' His garments clotted all with gore ! , 
 
 ** Hark — hark — the mad waves roar ! 
 
 " Ye might have wash'd this turban white '^ 
 
 '' But O ! the murderer's deeds 
 
 *< Still vis^ible in the thickest night, 
 
 D d 5 
 
i'Oe FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto-vi. 
 
 " And foul to blot the fairest day 
 
 " Wild waves 1 ye cannot wash away !" 
 
 XLIII 
 
 Sunk down, he ceas'd — a deadly pause — 
 Then, while his hands he rais'd, 
 As if for pardon he would pray, 
 And mutter'd, somewhat yet to say, 
 Clench'd was each hand, and lock'd his 
 
 jaws. 
 ' And now borne off, as all amaz'd 
 Look'd on that spectacle of fear. 
 Scarce did they heed the timourous maid 
 Who sate her veteran Knight so near, 
 And erst had shrunk, of all afraid ; 
 But had now fall'n — and dim'd her sight- 
 Cold as the marble, and as white. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 «' Yes ! from destruction's ready gulph 
 *< I rescued her," (cried Campjernulph) 
 
CANTO VI A CORNISH ROMANCE. 3©7 
 
 *' She was a foundling babe, (she said) 
 ** And *save me' — (she implor'd" and 
 
 knecrd) 
 *" From her to love and pity steel'd, 
 '" And guard me in the secret shade/ 
 " Her griefs nine years have glided o'er ! 
 ** Still with the wren she lov'd to lurk. 
 ** And sure it was the signal work 
 " Ot all-indulgent Providence, 
 " To her own house that lur'd her thence ; 
 ** And bade old Campernulph restore 
 " Matilda — to that dear embrace, 
 " And give her, where glows every grace 
 " (As sighs, from some, too sorely tell) 
 " And all the loves — ^to Isabel !" 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Already in her mother's' arms 
 Returning life had lighted up 
 Matilda's cheek and opening eyes, 
 
3dS FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto w. 
 
 As dawning on the cowslip's cup. 
 
 The morn, its cold dew colouring, warms ! 
 
 Aheady did Matilda prize * 
 
 Her sister's angel-sympathies I 
 
 XLVI. 
 Oft, many-twinkling as they swim^ 
 Phantoms now datfe, now cloath'd in lights 
 Fleet before the mental sight : 
 Unbidden, thro' the feverM night, 
 Delirium weaves the dancing dream. 
 So were the gentle Fair-oaes tranc'd! 
 So visions in spontaneous play 
 Obscuring almost reason's ray — 
 Bewilder'd, to retire they rOse ; 
 When lo ! again the Bard advanced, 
 And " once/' av^err'd, " his harp could lull 
 ** The flutter'd. spirits to repOse ;" 
 And *' tho' now fancy-reft andx dull," 
 Said, '' vvdth their pleasure, he wxDuld try, 
 *'* If yet he could make melody/' 
 
CAKTOvi A CORNISH ROMANCE. 30^ 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 SONG, 
 1. 
 
 " Rich was the grove ; and its full foliage 
 flowing 
 In verdant pride, or soft in leafy lightness; 
 O'er amber streams the fragrant shrubs were 
 blowing, [brightness f 
 
 And all around was drest in summer- 
 To their young tribes the parent-trees were 
 bending, [blending. 
 
 And kindred blooms and sister shadows 
 
 2. 
 
 The heavens grew black ! Sigh'd from its 
 inmost bosom 
 The shivering shade ; distinct the large 
 drops patter'd ; 
 
310 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, casto ri. 
 
 Then rush'd the sheeted rains— drencht 
 
 every blossom — 
 The branches crashed ; the purple sprays 
 
 were shatter*d y 
 The rills roU'd floods ; and darken'd and 
 
 dishevel'd revel'd ! 
 
 Was all the lovely scene, where gladness 
 
 3. 
 
 But lo ! its glittering boughs the green- 
 wood raises ; [disclosing 
 Mild are the breezes ; — the blue stream 
 With plaintive cadence all its purling ma- 
 zes — ' [posing ! 
 As from a trembling joy each plant re- 
 So sweet its breath, in every leaf was trea- 
 
 sure--r 
 The transitory storm left lasting pleasure I '^ 
 
CANTO VI. A CORNtSH ROMANCE. 3U 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Again, not mixing with the crowdj 
 The venerable harper bow'd ; 
 Once more attracting kind esteem. 
 As radiated a finer beam 
 Than love and pleasure oft inspire, 
 From eyes that had not lost their fire ; 
 And fancy high breatli'd fervid words 
 Along the deepening chords* 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 " It was in the days, when the sons of the 
 chace [sued, 
 
 Their prey, like the heroes of battle, pur- 
 That Reginald, first of the Valetort race, 
 Arm'd with spearand with arrow, reiguM 
 prince of the wood. 
 
319 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto vi. 
 
 To the blast of his bugles his steeds neigh'd 
 
 aloud ; [from the cloud ! 
 
 And his staghounds were swift as the bolts 
 Then let us pour out to the chieftain of 
 yore, [the boar.'' 
 
 And enrich with red Velez "the feast of 
 
 When array'd for the sport, ere he enter'd 
 the glen, [down in its lair ; 
 
 The stag sobb'd and wept and crouch'd 
 The wolf growl'd with fear in the depth of 
 her den, glare : 
 
 And the fox on her cubs cast a terrified 
 With a shrill shriek of pleasure sail'd slow- 
 ly the kite, [with delight. 
 And his black wing the raven flapp'd wild 
 Then let us pour out to the chieftain of 
 yore, [the boar." 
 And enrich with red Velcz "the feast of 
 
CANTO VI. A CORNISH ROjM ANCE, 315 
 
 3. 
 
 With the fierce tiger cat whilst the bend- 
 ing oaks bled, [plause ; 
 And murmur'd, as if to his prowess, ap- 
 The horrent boar fell to his battle-axe dead ; 
 And deckt was his couch with tusks, an- 
 tlers and claws : [romance. 
 But, as proof against wounds thro' the wand 
 There was one griesly foe still eluded his 
 
 lance ! 
 Then let us pour out to the chieftain of 
 yore, [the boar.'* 
 
 And enrich with red Velez "the feast of 
 
 4. 
 
 One morn, to his hounds and the shrilly- 
 
 ton'd clarion [the heath ; 
 
 And the hoofs of his horses reechoed 
 
 E e 
 
314 FAIR 1 SABEL OF COTEHELE, canto vi. 
 
 With the blood of one boar was besprink- 
 led his morion, [in death: 
 And another lay bristling and gasping 
 But the savage so dreaded, the inveterate foe 
 Had just glimps'd thro' the thicket and 
 shrunk from the blow. 
 Then let us pour out to the chieftain of 
 yore, [the boar.'* 
 And enrich with red Velez ** the feast of 
 
 Yet scarce had the hero breath'd twice, ere 
 was parted [thro' the dusk, 
 
 The dingle's deep umbrage ; and rush'd>. 
 In the foam of his rage e'en to scare the 
 stouthearted, [tusks 
 
 On men, dogs and horses, that terrible 
 
«ASTO VI A CORNISH ROMANCE. 315 
 
 On a hunter's gor'd hams half-exthiguish'd 
 
 his ire, [and expire. 
 
 And, flesh'd in a hound, bade him howl 
 
 Then let us pour out to the chieftain of 
 
 yore, [the boar.*' 
 
 And enrich with red Velez " the feast of 
 
 6. 
 
 Nor, ere he had broken a jayelin and dirk, 
 Could Reginald give him to pant in the 
 dust : 
 ,Twas then down his throat, to accomplish 
 the work, [ly thrust: 
 
 Did the Knight a keen dagger triumphant- 
 His broad neck relaxing, unbiistled his pride, 
 The monster groan'd horribly, struggled and 
 died. 
 Then let us po^r out to the chieftain of 
 yore, [the boar.'* 
 
 And enrich with red Velez «* the feast of 
 
 EC 2 
 
316 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto »i. 
 
 8. 
 
 To blazon the deed, hath the hall yearly 
 sounded ; [streamed : 
 
 And grimly in silver the banner'd boar 
 And, whilst every bosom to revelry bounded, 
 Perch'd high on the rafters the gyrfalcon 
 scream'd. 
 Tho' heroic the feat, yet in chivalrous fires 
 The sons, in each age, rose — to rival their 
 sires I 
 Then let us pour out to the chieftain of 
 yore, [the boar.'* 
 
 And enrich with red Velez " the feast of 
 
 L. 
 
 He paus'd ; and strait his lyric treasure 
 Was chang'd to a sublinier measure. 
 
CANTO n. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 317 
 
 ODE. 
 
 L 1. 
 
 ** All uncurtain'd to my sight 
 
 What years devolve in dread array ; 
 Baron to baron, knight to knight 
 
 With carnage blot the doubtful day. 
 See, where wide the battle bleeds, 
 Whilst down each forest smoke the barb- 
 ed steeds ; 
 And kindred lawns around, and sister-vales 
 Re-echoe to the clash of mails ! 
 Ah 1 where gleam'd nectar from the gilded 
 
 horn ; 
 Fleet at the covey where the falcon flew •, 
 Where the green hunter haiFd the merry 
 morn, [drew 
 
 And damsels to their silk-rein'd palfreys 
 Gay knights and squires, to wooe the beau- 
 teous fair; [nal war. 
 Cold halls and woodlands ring to fell frater^ 
 E e 3 
 
S\B FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto vi 
 
 II. 2. 
 Lo, where Isca rolls the wave 
 
 Darken'd by her cathedral fane, 
 Afar effulgent to the brave, 
 
 The unletter'd clown, the rural thane, 
 Courtenay lifts the mitred blaze : 
 Mute is the sceptred tyrant in amaze : 
 Old Rougement, flinging round a deep- 
 er gloom , 
 Had bid him stoop the regal plume. 
 Hark, thro' the loopholes of her walls, he 
 hears, 
 Erin's disastrous strain prophetic break ! 
 Hark, "Rougemont P' echoes in his shud- 
 dering ears, [ly shriek. 
 Shrill as thro' midnight shades the ghost- 
 O'er the dire presage the usurper cowers, 
 Then madly stamps the ground, and mocks 
 the ominous towers ! 
 
CANTO n A CORNISH ROMANCE. Sl9 
 
 L 3. 
 
 To give the avenging steel 
 
 To speed its destin'd work, 
 Whilst " that proud prelate" spreads his 
 palms on high ; 
 See, foe to darmg York, 
 From thy gi-ay woods, Cotehele I 
 Intrepid Edgcumbe bids his banners fly ! 
 But tho% nigh fate's extremest verge, 
 On the despot wait dismay, 
 Scatter'd the red-rose squadrons wing 
 their way, [lous surge : 
 
 Grasp the pale shrine, or seek the peri- ' 
 High Edgcumbe hails his patriarchal shade I 
 The impervious copse clings round the 
 craggy cave 
 To screen with closer sprays his sacred head 1 
 Above, their dunnest crests the broad 
 oaks wave. 
 
320 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto vi 
 
 Hah ! rustling nigh, 
 
 A ruffian's eye — 
 Red sparkles glance amidst the gloom ! 
 
 Flash'd wide the stieam — 
 
 " Ingulph'dhis frame !" 
 The baffled foe so read his doom. — 
 Ah, who could image mightier wonders giv^n 
 To future time, to mark the providence of 
 
 Heaven ? 
 
 II. 1. 
 Tented battle waves again ; 
 
 And glimmers the last streak of day r 
 Pale from the camp of Bosworth-plain 
 The buzz, the murmur dies away: 
 All is luird in silence deep. 
 Ah ! tyrant ! what avails thy troubled sleep ? 
 
 The bloody spectre beckons thee to 
 death ! [breath ! 
 
 He starts ! how short, how quick his. 
 
•jiNTO VI. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 521 
 
 Again, the spectre sends forth sanguine 
 flame ! [corse ! 
 
 Again unveil'd, he sees the sheeted 
 O 1 he hath done a deed without a name — 
 " Give me another horse ! — another 
 horse P' [bed, 
 
 He cries, and, hurrying from his fainting 
 Vain fugitive ! would fly the vampire of 
 the dead ! 
 
 II. 2. 
 His wrung heart while terrours haunt. 
 
 And dastards drain the rubied flask ; 
 No fears the soul of Tudor daunt, 
 
 Where, beaming on his steady casque, 
 Vi<!:tory shakes her dazzling spear — 
 A coruscation from the morning-star ! 
 
 And " lo!'' (she cries) " amidst my Cor^' 
 wall's sons 
 
 <* Its kindling course where glory runs, 
 
52« FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto yi. 
 
 " My Edgcumbe, first in patriot worth shall 
 wrench 
 " (As on a heap of corses all unknown 
 '' Limbs cold in blood his welling lifesprings 
 drench) [crown!" 
 
 " From the usurper's brows his biting 
 She said ; and rising o'er the embattled 
 kings, [crimson wings I 
 
 The shrilly trumpet blew, and wav'd her 
 
 11. 3. 
 
 Disfeatur'd, smear'd with gore, 
 
 In dust the despot lies ! ^ [oil, 
 
 No hand to shrieve, or pour the hallow'd 
 Or soothe his agonies! 
 
 The war-dogs that explore [smile ! 
 
 The field, run howling from his hideous 
 
 I see his minions in mid flight 
 Far from where the battle bled : 
 
 Cru§ht from the pond'rous axe, unhelmeted, 
 
CANTO Ti A CORNISH ROxMANCE. 325 
 
 Westward I trace an ill-adventurous Knight. 
 Far o'er his pastures, far as eye can reach, 
 
 Far o'er the wild woods of his native lands, 
 *He hails a mournful verdure — down the 
 beach 
 A dreary glimmering from the silver sands. 
 His wild woods stream 
 A shadowy gleam, 
 Trembling as they for ever part 
 With pale adieu 
 From his dim view, 
 No more to cheer his exil'd heart. 
 Hark I at his heels pursuit and terror rave ! 
 Down the high cliff he leaps, and wooes a 
 foreign grave ! 
 
 III. 1. 
 Beams on throned Tudor's head 
 
 A brighter blaze of orient day : 
 The darker, wilder passions dread 
 
 Disperse before his sovereign sway I — 
 
§24 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto vi. 
 
 Proud oppression, vassal fears, 
 Monastic shades, and superstitious tears ! 
 Whilst o'er the nations, o'er the halcy- 
 on seas, 
 Sweet as the breath of musky breeze 
 His Edgcumbe wafts the courtesies of life i 
 Amid the mountains of the plaided north 
 Still strenuous to compose ignoble strife, 
 And, spreading far the fame of Henry's 
 worth. 
 Where thro' lerne strode the fierce Kildare, 
 Trample barbaric scorn, and quench the 
 brands of war. 
 
 III. 2. 
 Yes ! where Romish zeal, combin'd 
 
 With savage ignorance urg'd the crew, 
 His was the inflexibly-firm mind, 
 
 The headstrong million to subdue. 
 
CA^TO VI. A CORNISH HOMANCR. 325 
 
 Where, round Deveiyn's circling tide, 
 The tall spires glitter in theatric pride, 
 The rebel Earl flung off his pilgrim weeds, 
 Haughty amid his prancing steeds ! 
 Lo, where o*ercanopied in state superb, 
 Prelates and peers their favourite Edg* 
 
 cumbe fence, jfll 
 
 With stern reluctance to the regal curb, 
 The Earl still ruminates his proud pretence : 
 YetEdgcumbe, hailing as to peace restored, 
 Beckons to pardon's seal the half-repent- 
 ant lord. 
 
 111. 3. 
 Such was the gallant sire 
 
 Who cross'd the stormy deep 
 Full oft, to vindicate his Albion^s tzmt. 
 
 And o'er his last calm sleep 
 The Breton's grateful choir 
 
 r i 
 
326 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ru 
 
 Rais'd from harmonious keys, the loud ac- 
 claim ! 
 And he, the generous and the good, 
 He, whom virtue lov'd to praise, 
 The glory of capricious Henry's days, 
 Bldzon'd with new renown illustrious blood! 
 ^ut, where my harp would sound a loftier 
 lay, [voice !" 
 
 The strain must sink into " a still small 
 Fain would I utter, but I cannot say, 
 The deeds of him, in whom the just re- 
 joice ! 
 
 And lo ! the veil 
 . That shrouded pale 
 The splendour of the coming years ! — 
 Where Earls unfold 
 Their scutch eon'd gold, 
 The shadowy curtain disappears : 
 Stay radiant forms !-— O spare my aged 
 sight— [light !'' 
 
 Honour and candid truth, andnoild Religion's 
 
CANTO VI A CORNISH ROMANCE. 3^7 
 
 LI. 
 
 All as he ceas'd, from his features beam'd 
 
 Inspiration ! And it seem'd 
 
 Where the lamp's reflexion ray'd. 
 
 The flashing of ethereal fires 
 
 That lambent o*er his frail harp play'd, 
 
 And quiver'd on the wires ; |i 
 
 As if the prowess from abovCy 
 
 (Whence came that supernatural aid) 
 
 Parting in glory, had at length 
 
 Consign'd to rest his human strength ; 
 
 Nor his own vigour strove 
 
 Exhausted, to recover more 
 
 The grandeur of prophetic lore ! 
 
 Faint — an adieu in vain he tried 
 
 To speak, yet look'd self-satisfied. 
 
 He had fulfilled his every task !~ 
 
 Sir Richard, seizing the rich flask, 
 
 Bade him draw near the banquet-board — ► 
 
 F f 2 
 
5*^8 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto a 
 
 The dancing-juice the old man quaff^d : 
 
 And still he drank a deeper draught^ 
 
 To cordial glee restor'd. 
 
 But not the sparkling spicy winc> 
 
 Not all the blood of every vine 
 
 His bosom could so cheer, 
 
 ^s his good Lady's grateful tear, 
 
 That glistened in her eye ! 
 
 Nor did he hold his harp so dear, 
 
 As from fair Isabel a sigh 
 
 That, as a boon from heaven, did part 
 
 And sink into his cherisht heart. 
 
 Happy old man ! from slow decay 
 
 Thy sinews only weak ; 
 
 From gradual time thy tresses gray y 
 
 But still upon thy cheek, 
 
 The trace of vigourous health that glows 
 
 In many a ruddy streak — 
 
 Calm, thou art dropping calm away 
 
 Into thy long repose ! 
 
CANTO 71 A CORNISH ROMANCE. A'iO 
 
 Full-blown, 'tis thus the tulip pale 
 Without the breathing of a gale, 
 Its feeble leaves sheds, one by one : 
 Yet freakt are they with wonted red ; 
 Nor can our eye the change perceive, 
 As in the silent summer-eve 
 They fall upon their quiet bed. 
 Till all, at last, are gone ! 
 
 LII. 
 
 Faultering at first, a simpler song 
 Flow'd from amidst the distant throng — 
 A gentle voice — 'twas wild and sweet — ^ 
 Such notes as sylvan nature greet. 
 Perhaps 'twas Jesse's ! — She could hide 
 (As in the hawthorn undescried. 
 Nestles the warbling woodland thrush) 
 All in the crowd her bashful bush. 
 
 F f 3 
 
330 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELF, cahio »^ 
 
 LIII. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 h 
 
 '* And if the men so valourous were. 
 
 So kind and courteous too, 
 How good and virtuous all the Fair, 
 
 How bright in beauty's hue I 
 
 But none so lovely ever shone. 
 
 So pure in virgin fame, 
 Rivals in beauty sure were none 
 
 To her I must not name. 
 
 Rais'd to gay joy from deep distress. 
 To life from deadly gloom — 
 
 To herald so much happiness 
 Can any tongue presume ? 
 
cj^NW Ti. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 33* 
 
 4. 
 
 O ! the ear-lechery of her lutCj 
 
 111 sooth, it was so sweet, 
 Adorers stood, in rapture mute, 
 
 Or trembled at her feet ! 
 
 The witchery of her angel-smile 
 
 Indeed, had such a power, 
 Tho' vain their vows, yet all the while 
 
 It was a golden hour. 
 
 Yes ! many a one — his wounded heart 
 
 From the sly archer's bow, 
 Shew'd by its panting the sweet dart 
 
 He kiss'd for wounding so ! 
 
 7. 
 
 Till a poor minstrel made, at last^ 
 (Full busy with her chariBs) 
 
332 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE cant^iu 
 
 A girdle for her virgin waist — 
 It was — his clasping arras. ! 
 
 8. 
 
 The minstrel-boy a wanderer was ; 
 
 But, now his race is run. 
 May all iiis days at distance pass 
 
 From abbess, priest or nun I" 
 
 LIV. 
 It ceasM. And in that artless strain 
 Which echo long'd to chaunt again, 
 There was a sportive levity, 
 A vein, perchance, too quaint and free !' 
 But Christmas always could excuse 
 The licence of a merrier muse. 
 Whose it might be, we could not say ; 
 But, where the last tones sank away 
 A sailor^ s happy smile was seen ! 
 And quips and cranks went otf, I ween^ 
 
CANfo ft, A CORNISH ROMANCE, 355 
 
 At buttery hatch, and hall hard by ; 
 And nut-brown ale foam'd rich and high , 
 Whilst many a mighty cask had vent y 
 And all was as the merriment 
 Of wassal revelry ! 
 
 , LV. 
 
 Nor languished the convivial board 
 With lordly cates luxurious stor'd — 
 The boarshead, prime of all the feast, 
 That every Christmas duly grac'd ; 
 (Tho* Cotehelt's dun woods no more 
 To hunter-spear let loose the boar) 
 And (pierc'd where fleet the sportsmen raa 
 On Sarum's downs) the bustard lorn ; 
 The cygnet, with due caution torn 
 ^Midst Tavy's sedges, from its swan ; 
 And, from the North, the ptarmigan ; 
 The capon, peacock and the crane ; 
 Nor did the venison smoke in vain— 
 
334 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE canto yi 
 
 Nor the brawn immense, nor towering high 
 
 The capacious crested pye 
 
 Idly met the curious eye ; — 
 
 Whilst in large cups the rhenish gleam'dj 
 
 And muscadel flow'd rich and free, 
 
 And broach'd were pipes of malvoisie, 
 
 And sherris-sack nectareous streamed. 
 
 LVL 
 
 Yet, while their presence gracM the board — 
 
 The pair, to genial life restored ; 
 
 Nor dainty cate, nor viny juice 
 
 Could from reflexion's pensiveness— 
 
 From such delights, perchance, as bless 
 
 Heaven's angel choir — the guests seduce* 
 
 Sweet was the look, the languid air, 
 
 The delicate attraction, there — 
 
 A pleasure soften'd and subdued ; 
 
 The chasten'd smile of gratitude ;. 
 
 The light involuntary sigh ; 
 
 The generous flush of cordial joy ;— 
 
CANTO Ti A CORNISH ROMANCE. 354 
 
 And O ! that stealing blush, to illume 
 
 The little Love's celestial plume ; 
 
 That conscious blush, which seem'd to tell 
 
 It fanned the coffin-lid so well ; 
 
 And those mild eyes which more expressed 
 
 E'en than the moral on her breast: 
 
 FEAR NOT: FROM GLOOM AGAIN WE RISE i 
 LOVE LIGHTS THE WAY TO BALMIER SKIES, 
 
335 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, cakto vi» 
 
 Conclusion to Canto sixth. 
 
 1. 
 
 Yet, tho* the castle gateway sounds no more 
 With hideous crash its huge portcullis 
 proags ; 
 And they, the vassal multitude of yore, 
 Wail not, in servile strain, transmitted 
 wrongs, [longs, 
 
 But, marking what from man to man be- 
 Their proud prerogative not vainly urge ; 
 
 Yet, tho no terrours, paralyzing throngs, 
 From ruin'd abbeys may again emerge i — 
 Still o'er innumerous minds the papist shakes 
 his scourge. 
 
A CORNISH ROMANCE. 3«$ 
 
 See him with fawning art mysterious slide 
 Thro* all the chieftain's dome. Behold 
 his smiles, 
 How courteous, as he soothes baronial pride I 
 To false Cecilia trace his slippery wiles. 
 Oft as the dark confession-chair beguiles 
 Her soul, too conscious of the stain of vice; 
 Whilst gold or gems reward his right- 
 eous toils ; 
 And absolutions to new guilt entice ; 
 And wealth has choice of sins, and every 
 sin, its price ! 
 
 3. 
 
 Tho' now no more, ere yet we reach the 
 porch, 
 Our walls display a saint in every nich, 
 
 • g 
 
337 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ti. 
 
 Noi Virgin from her shrine the holier church 
 Illumine, in ethereal drapery rich; 
 See, see the Romanist, still smooth in 
 speech, 
 lerne's sons to rebel arms incite ! 
 
 O spurn the sly petitions that beseech — 
 Nor heed the felon war-troop with affright • 
 Escap'd from death's own realm — fly, fly 
 a second night ! 
 
 What tho' a toy, be that tiara, giv'n 
 
 To the frail Pontiff, who, no longer great, 
 Grasps, feebly grasps the shadowy keys of 
 Heaven ; 
 Yet sliall in dread array a host await 
 The phantom that a despot's frowns 
 create ! 
 And sabres, darts and horrours not its own> 
 
CANTO vr. A CORNISH ROMANCE. 338 
 
 To the pale nations still denouncing fate» 
 Shall issue from behind the iron crown, 
 And compass with new force the hierar* 
 chal throne. 
 
 5. 
 
 But lo! where that awakened lion streams 
 
 To tlie red cross its banner'd glories wide i 
 The dungeon's sombrous lamp expiring 
 gleams [dyed ; 
 
 O'er the dim rack with scaly life-blood 
 And the wanPiiest that earthly power defied, 
 Abash'd from candid reason skulks away ! — 
 And shall imperial Britain bless the stride 
 Of those, whose secret pestilential sway 
 Was as the deadly spirit, " that walketh 
 at noonday ?" 
 
 6. 
 
 No ! Heaven forefend ! — In oft repeated 
 
 peals [afar — 
 
 Wing'd from Arlanzon's sun-clad hills 
 
Sa9 FAIR ISABEL OF COTEHELE, canto ¥i 
 
 In joyous echoes from Zamora's vales, 
 From Zaragosa whilst, triumphant war! 
 Thy acclamations meet the British ear ; — 
 
 At such an hour shall sacerdotal craft 
 Creep in, to bid the soul of union jar ; 
 
 And every gale suspicion's poison waft 
 
 Thro' all our generous combes, where 
 love and freedom laugh'd ? 
 
 7. 
 
 No f Where the hero wound his stately 
 
 march, [delight, 
 
 Have we survey 'd, O Peace! with fond 
 
 Once more thy myrtles, and the laurel-arcij 
 
 And orange-grove in thy sweet lustre 
 
 bright ; 
 And, rural dances stealing on the sight, 
 (Whilst rack no more spreads terrour and 
 regret) 
 From Ildefonso'sto the Alhambra's height^ 
 
CANTO VI A CORNISH ROMANCE. 340 
 
 Wooed, where cork-sprays the chesnut- 
 
 umbrage met, 
 The tinkling soft guitar, the merry castanetf 
 
 8. 
 
 And shall not Albion, all at leisure laid 
 
 Where yellow plenty pours her lavish horn, 
 Beneath the huge oak's far embowering shades 
 Tyrants but ill affecting freedom, scorn > 
 Say, shall thej/ cherish treachery as the 
 morn 
 Liberal — who give to the utmost bounds of 
 earth [born ? 
 
 Honour, and truth and faith of virtue 
 No ! — while Cornubia greets his ducal 
 birth, [guardian worth ! 
 
 Confiding Britons hail their PRlNCE's 
 
 END OF CANTO SIXTH. 
 
/ 
 
t6 
 
 fVALTER SCOTT, Esq. 
 
 X ES ! I have oft my ditties sung^ 
 When hope was gay, and fancy young -^ 
 At peep'of morn attun'd my note 
 To meet the blackbird's early throaty 
 Aiid warbled where to evening gray 
 The redbreast pourM her plaintive lay* 
 
54S CONCLUDING ADDRESS. 
 
 Sweet, o'er the dew, the stealing breeze. 
 Amidst my trembling infant trees — 
 My sycamores that soft dispiay'd 
 (The first of all the varied shade) 
 Light-purpling sprays and buds between^ 
 So large a leaf, so bright a green ; 
 That, yet a boy, with wild delight 
 _|^ear'd, along their southern scite j. — 
 As Mir a to my labours there 
 Would lend a sister's fondest care. 
 Her pretty flowers that learn'd to breathe 
 Adown the gentle slope beneath, 
 And open'd to the summer-sun, 
 A brother's mutual tendance won. 
 And we had melody at will 
 For every jasmine and jonquil ! 
 And we had music — -such a store — 
 We sung to every sycamore ! 
 Sweet too, was our sequester'd dell .*! 
 It had a grotto and a well, 
 
CONCLUDING ADDRESS. 5*4 
 
 Fair willows, and a watevfall ; . 
 An ancient beech that shelter'd all. 
 We cried, with pensive pleasure, oft : 
 " Our grotto-light, how shadowy-soft ! 
 ** Mild as the summer's evening hour l*^ 
 Nor toil could ask a cooler bower. 
 Clear was our well, and running o'er ; 
 And polisht was its pebbled floor : 
 To noon's bright beams that pierc'd the 
 
 shade> 
 Its crisped waters sparkling play'd. 
 Ah, so doth innocence impart 
 Pure radiance to the untroubled heart 1 
 Nor less, as headlong down the rock 
 On the beech-roots the torrent broke, 
 To its broad foam to lure the sight, 
 It wash'd the spreading fibres white. 
 Yet, tho' it pleas'd, yet all the while> 
 (Such is tlie world's deceitful smile) 
 
 t 
 
M$ CONCLUDING ADDRESS* 
 
 Our aged friend it undermin'd : 
 Attractive thus is tieaehery kind I — 
 
 Happy, indeed, were childhood^s years> 
 Ere yet my solitary tears 
 Staining the crystal of my well^ 
 Drop after drop in silence fell ! 
 (So falls the sad autumnal leaf) 
 To speak, dear Shade 1 a brother's grief I 
 Then the lone muse would fain inspire,, 
 Alas ! my little trembling lyre! 
 Yet soon, to yon responsive stream 
 My whispers told Eliza's name. 
 On its green banks the lover stray'd^ 
 And thither woo'd his charming maid. 
 There, o'er the bloom of young desire 
 Hath kindled oft my amourous fire, 
 Whilst to her dear delicious eyes 
 That heaving bosom blush'd in sighs 1 
 Then every twinkling leaf above 
 Seem'd conscious to the breath of love^. 
 
 t 
 
CONCLUDING ADDRESS. 84€ 
 
 The winding pathway's easy flow 
 Wav'd in a gentler curve below 5 
 Each flower assum'd a soften'd hue, 
 And clos'd its cup in brighter dew. 
 Then, as 1 own'd luxurious stings, 
 I seiz'd, and swept the glowing strings ! 
 Then passion eloquently pour'd 
 The soul of love thro' every chord I 
 But, it was mine erelong to roam, 
 A listless exile, far from home, — 
 Far from these walls that mark my birth. 
 To rear my unambitious hearth, 
 Where Isca widening seeks the main, 
 Amidst the tilled proud and vain. 
 'Twas there on topographic lore 
 Some evil genius bade me pore ; 
 By day alert with keen research 
 Hunt out a ruin, hail a church ; 
 Explore, tlio' faint from wan disease, 
 By the pale lamp long pedigiees ; 
 
S48 CONCLUDING ADDRESS. 
 
 The look of cold indifference rue, 
 Yet still the thankless toil pursue, 
 And brave the insidious critic's blame, 
 Unrecompens'd by gold or fame. 
 
 Vain years avaunt ! The favouring muse 
 Gilds life's decline with softer hues. 
 Again that woodland of the child 
 Tho' now a thicket dark and wild, 
 Where spread my statelier sycamores, 
 Its spirit to my soul restores ; 
 And thro' the ivied shade I break, 
 And listen to the hawk's shrill shriek. 
 Flush from her nook the barn-owl gray, 
 And chase, how pert, the painted jay. 
 Yet, as I trace these scenes again, 
 I feel alternate joy and pain ; 
 And e'en tho' years have sped their flight, 
 I languish for my grotto-light : 
 1 languish for my water-fall, 
 And my old beech that shadow'd all. 
 
CONCLUDING ADDRESS* 848 
 
 Ah! well-a-day I ^^ike for me, 
 Are fled the torrent and the tree ! 
 The ru^iing flood hath ccas'd to roar ; 
 My old beech-roots are blanch'd no more ; 
 The green brook on its sedges sleeps ; 
 With fox-gloves shagg'd the grotto weeps; 
 And one poor willow seems to join 
 In widow'd grief its sighs with mine ! 
 
 And thou, lorn stream ! Again I stray 
 Along thy wild and devious way . 
 Dehghtful stream I whose murmurs clear 
 Meet, once again, my pensive ear ; 
 That wanderest down thine osier'd vale 
 Where passion breath'd her melting tale ; 
 Thy evening-banks to memory sweet 
 1 tread, once more, with pilgrim-feet I 
 
 Tho' not the same these views appear. 
 As when I rov'd a lover here ; 
 Yet with no languid glance I see 
 This winding-path, that aspin-tree, 
 
 H h 
 
8?9 CONCLtJDIKG ADDRESS. 
 
 And eager catch, at every pace, 
 Of former joys some fading trace, 
 Some features of the past that seeq^ 
 The illusion of too fond a dream. 
 
 Such are the dear domestic views 
 That yet attract my simple muse. 
 Nor do I mourn the cold regard 
 Of sordid minds that slight the bard ; 
 As here, tho' c^re or sorrow lour, 
 I steal from gloom a golden hour; 
 As, no mean intermeddler nigh. 
 My boyish steps I still descry ; 
 Still, midst my budding lilacs pal©, 
 The first sweet vcrn^al promise hail ; 
 Still, if young May breathe life and bloom, 
 Survey some faery power illume 
 The orient hills with richer light ; 
 Still see, with fluid radiance bright. 
 Some faery power the pencil hold 
 To pamt the evefling cloud wiili gold ; 
 
CONCLUDING ADDRES3. S5Q 
 
 Still, ivhere amid the horizon dim 
 The scatter'd elms distinctly gleam , 
 And fade from darkening crest to crest 
 The last cool tints that streak the west, 
 Still heave, tho' others wonder why, 
 A ad cherish an enamour'd sigh ! 
 And if, in sooth, one wish aspires 
 Beyond these satisfied desires, 
 ^Tis that my song, tho' unrefin'd, 
 May not displease some kindred mind ; 
 That 1 may boast, tho' distance part 
 Our cordial looks, one generous heart, 
 And hold, tho' o'er the grave I bend, 
 That heart my meed — and SCOTT, my 
 friend ! 
 
 THE ZNVt* 
 
 Hh 2 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page 6. 
 (While, high Boscaxven ! — more rick and 
 
 deep 
 Thy greenwoods swell their breezy sweep, 
 Andjlankt with ynore than former pride, 
 New turrets shadow VaUi's tide :J 
 
 The pleasure grounds of Tregothnan, (the 
 seat of Lord Viscouiit Fahnouth,) beautiful 
 from their natural situation, have lately beeii 
 much improved by art: and the mansion- 
 house is now rebuilding. 
 
 P. 7. 
 
 (And well^ I ween^ one festive bard 
 Paid to these rites his fond regard ; 
 Still bidding Jokes and gibes avail 
 To season 7?iani/ a Christmas tale I ) 
 
 ^' The festive bard" was John Polwhelc, 
 of Polvvhele and Treworgan Esq. who was 
 member for Tregoney in Carnwail (together 
 with Sir Richard V'yvyan of i'relowarren, kt) 
 at the latter end of the reign of Charles 1 — 
 Vy vyan and PoJwhek were succeeded in lUe 
 
 H h 3 
 
^53 NOTRS. 
 
 representation of that borough by persons of 
 '* of no loyal fame" — Thomas Trevor kt. 
 and hart, and John Carew Esq. — See Br. 
 Willis's Not. Pari 11. ]16. 
 
 Between *' the festive bard" — (the gr. gr. 
 grandtathcrof the Author) and the Edgcumbe 
 family, ^here subsisted the mosteordiai friend 
 ship ; as appears from their correspondence, 
 and. from a MS volume of John Polwhele's po- 
 ems now in ^he Author's possession. Tkese 
 poems consist chiefly of translations from 
 rloethius and Horace. The origina^l pieces aie 
 i'ov the most part. aJdVestto the Bonythons th« 
 i^rideauxs, the Grenvilies, the Kdgcumbes : 
 and the Baskervilles of Dorset (and of He- 
 reford) into whose family the Poet married. 
 
 ?. 30. 
 
 ("And the rush of the troop in war^s attire^ 
 That close around her vatourous sire J 
 
 *' Her valourous sire " was Sir Richard 
 Edgcumbe ,kt. on whose expedition into the 
 west, at the command of ij^ueeii Mary, and 
 the incidents arising from this event, is 
 founded the story of '' the Fair Isabel." 
 
 ** There was a Jcnight, [Trevanion] dwel- 
 ling in the same shire, with whom, for divers 
 -causes, in King Edv^rard's days, he had sun-, 
 dry quarrels , which as at first they bred in- 
 ward mislikings between them, so at last 
 they brake forth into open hatred. Tliis 
 
NOTES. ^54- 
 
 Knight, in the troublesome change of Queea 
 Mary's reign, partly for religion^ and partly 
 for other causes, was clapp'd into prisoa: 
 and though the matters discovered against 
 liim were heinous, and his enemies (at that 
 time bearing great sway) very grievous, yet 
 he obtained so much favor, as to be tried by 
 certificate, from the gentlemen of the chief- 
 est authority in his count y for his behaviour 
 therein : according to whose report to the 
 council, he was to be either delivered, or 
 more straightly to be dealt witli. This grant- 
 ed, he conceived very good hope of every 
 other's friendly advertisment, and feared on- 
 ly the liard favor of our Sir Richard, who he 
 cloubted would use the sword of revenge 
 (then put into his hands) to his enemies' de- 
 struction. It happened that upon return of 
 tiieir answer he was delivered ^ and being at 
 liberty, to the end he might know how his 
 countrymen's minds were affected towards 
 him, he by means, procured a copy of all 
 these advertisive letters, in perusing of which 
 he found that such as bore him fairest coun- 
 tenance, wrote most against him ; and that 
 Sir Richard Edgcumbe's certificate made 
 most for him ; so as, in all likelihood, his 
 greatest enemy in show, was the chiefest 
 cause of his deliverance indeed. — I would 
 slay here in praise of this noble mind, who 
 shewed his valour in conquering his owa 
 
355 NOT^S. 
 
 affections ; his virtue in abstaining from re- 
 venge, being offered ; and his Christianity 
 in doing good for evil ; but that I am car- 
 ried forth with no less wonder at this Knight's 
 thankfulness ; who pretending as though he 
 wist not of this courtesy, to the outward 
 shew, continued his wonted enmity until the 
 Christmas after. At which time, on a night, 
 word was brought to Mount Edgcumbe, that 
 a company of armed men were lately 
 landed from Plymouth, marching up to the 
 house. Sir Richard, having heard before, 
 that this Knight was in that town, and mis- 
 trusting, he had picked out this time to come 
 and set upon him unawares, resolved to shew 
 himself neither discourteous to them he 
 ■ knew not, through fear ; nor yet to lie open 
 to his enemies, if they pretended any such 
 practice, through heedlessness: he therefore 
 caused his gates to be set wide open, and 
 placed his servants on both sides the gate 
 and hall, w^herethey must pass, with swords 
 and bucklers : but they coming in, turned 
 this doubt into pastime, for their armour and 
 weapons were only painted paper, as by 
 nearer approaching was perceived, and in- 
 stead of trying their blows, in fighting with 
 men, they fell to make proof of the ladies' 
 skill in dancing. — These pastimes at last be- 
 ing ended, they were led int,o another room 
 to be banqueted, where this Knight taking 
 
NOTES. 556 
 
 off his Vizard, and disclosing himself to Sir 
 Richard Edgcumbe, uttered. That having 
 known the great courtesy shewn him in his 
 trouble, besides his looking, and contrary to 
 his deserving, he was come thither to yield 
 him his most due thanks for the same, assu- 
 ring him that he would thenceforth, rest as 
 faithful a friend, as ever before he had shewn 
 himself a professed enemy. In witness of 
 which his true meaning, and to strengthen 
 the friendship newly begun, in good-will, 
 with a fast knot of alliance, he there present- 
 ed him a young gentlfi;"nan his nephew, a 
 ward and the heir of his house (who being 
 of fair possessions, came amongst the other 
 company masked in a nymph's attire) to 
 match with one of his daughters, which mar- 
 riage afterwards came to pass." See Mo- 
 dern Hist, ot Cornwall, Vol. I. p. 69. 
 
 P. 33 
 
 (^^ Adieu (she crkd) dear saint adi^u!*^ 
 And to her favourite Oriel flew,) 
 
 In some castles, the Oratory was lighted 
 by a window embowed within side, and cal- 
 led an Oriel. Lydgate describing a lady, 
 says : 
 
 " In herOryall there she was, 
 *' Ciosyd well with royall glas/' 
 
557 NOTES. 
 
 P. 39. 
 
 fAnd (hid you hear^ when^ y ester-nighty 
 Lady Alice was buried 6j/ bloody torch- 
 light. 
 The hymn that closed the funeral rite? 
 
 Tliis may appear too bold an epithet. But 
 Isabel was deliriously feverish, from watch-, 
 ing and grief. And to a " fever'd vision," 
 the colour of a taper or torchlight is red as 
 blood. 
 
 Ps. 43, 44. 
 
 f — that meekness on her face 
 Which after death yet left its trace 
 As in a sleepy lustre weak. 
 But fix' d in her undying cheek ?) 
 
 Yet thou glow'st fresh with every living; 
 
 grace, 
 No mark of .pain, nor violence of face ; 
 Rosy and fair 1 as Phoebus' silver bow 
 Dismiss'd the^ gently to the shades below. — 
 
 Iliad, XXIV. 
 
 In this description of Hector, Homer seems 
 to have had in view, that expression of tlie 
 features, a short time after apparent death, 
 which indicates (as some have thought) the 
 presence of the soul not yet departed troiB. 
 
NOTES. 55 S 
 
 tlie body. In the case of drowned persons, 
 restored to the functions of Hfe, it is impos- 
 sible that the soul can have departed from 
 tlie body : this is with strict propriety term- 
 ed, " suspended animation." 
 
 P. 30. 
 
 ( E^en in their shouts the Rhodi^n boj/^y 
 Meek thoi* her unohtrusive niind^ 
 Could little Isabel have join'' d. 
 And miv^d in all their vernal joys ; 
 Hailing^ herald of the springy 
 The first dear swallow's airy wing.) 
 
 .The Greeks held the swallow in great ve- 
 neration. And they welcom'd this bird, as 
 the harbinger of spring, with processions and 
 songs — particularly in the island of Rhodes. 
 
 ^' XE^»5*ov^;Ta^5 pueri neiDpe, qui apud Rhodios 
 circumeuntes stipein hirundiiii colligebant ; 
 « Hesych. xeXt^ov^ra*, ot T9J ^O\\,^on ay^ipovnt; : 
 quern rem optime explicit Athenaeus, L. 8. 
 *' Kai (inquit) x^^^^^<^vi!^^^v h uuT^sivai va^cc Pohotq 
 
 HX6^5 nX^e yiKi^ujv^ y.aKas 
 Slpa^ ocyhiacc^ &c^ 
 
 quos versus pueri later circum,eundum cai>ta- 
 bant."— 
 
 O. Cuper. Obss. L. iii. C. 4. p. ^75. Tra- 
 jectiadRhenum^ 1670, 
 
J5« KOTES. 
 
 P. 84. 
 
 {Her great grandsire had nigh this spot 
 
 Eluding his pursuers shot, 
 
 Dash'd to their seeming in the wave,) 
 
 See Modern Hist, of Cornwall, Vol. I, p. 48. 
 
 P. 97. 
 
 (Her ORPINE 07i the yew she hung^ 
 And looked with a fearful eye : 
 But chain' d in silence was her tongue^ 
 And pent in her bosom the sigh, J 
 
 Orpine, or rose-wort — ^telephium roseum — 
 vulg. Midsummer-men. 
 
 P. 115 
 
 (On the white cliffs o\r Caerhayes^ 
 I taw the hostile beacon blaze, 
 And flickering in the ghastly glare 
 The bannered scallops wave in air.) 
 
 The Trevai:iion arms are " Or. fesse b. 
 charged with three Escalops O, between two 
 chevrons G." 
 
 P, 118. 
 
 (But again in gloom, thro^ the yawning wall 
 A sparkle I met from a fiery eye.) 
 
 That the late Mr. Arscot of Tetcot, 
 should have been a commentator on Pindar, 
 few will be induced to believe. Yet, in oce 
 
KOTES. b60 
 
 instance, this was certainly a fact. Mr. Tas- 
 ker, '' of Pindaric memory," talking of Pin* 
 dar's epithet at9fc^, as appUed tci the fox, was 
 persuaded by Mr. Arscot, to render it fire- 
 eyed. And I conceive that Mr. Arscot was 
 right. Few understood the natural history 
 of the fox, better than this gentleman — But, 
 in a comment on another passage in Pindar, 
 with lasker, I cannot say I was equally suc- 
 cessful. I advised him to translate that fine 
 expression xaXa^o* atf/aTtyK, " the hailstorm of 
 blood.'* But he thought this almost literal 
 translation too bold, and lost tlie sublimity of 
 the original, in a periphrasis still more ob- 
 scure. 
 
 P. 122. 
 
 (Aloft iy ermin^d herald rais'd 
 The bristling boars in argent blaz'd.J 
 The Edgcumbe arms, " fhree boars' heads 
 couped arg." This reminds us of the helmet 
 ofUlysses. 
 
 " ^0?. ^ Iliad, X, 
 
 " A boar's white teeth grinn'd horrid o'er 
 his head." Pofe^ 
 
 P. 135. 
 
 {Beneath that donWy whose lightness 
 
 seems 
 Suspended on the solar beams) 
 
 Such b the lightness of the dome (says 
 
 I i 
 
361 KOTBS/ 
 
 Procopius) that It appears to be suspended 
 by a chain from Heaven. — Modern travel- 
 lers see the dome of St, Sophia with very 
 diiFerent eyes. Dallov^ay inclines to Proco- 
 pius. Clarke, much the reverse. — 
 
 P. 135. 
 
 {Assured that many a minareh 
 
 Shall soon send forth effulgent stregms^ 
 
 The dervise <?Vn of Mevleveh 
 
 May mingle moans with Fakir's dreams) 
 The Minarehs illuminated by lamps in 
 
 Rammezan. — Ihe dervises of Mevleveh 
 
 were of the most rigid order. 
 
 p. 136. 
 
 (Nor where the Greek with saintly mien 
 Bustles behind the pictured screen.) 
 
 In the Greek churches, pictures are attached 
 to the screens, instead of idols, called icoii- 
 ostas. 
 
 P. 144. 
 
 (Andy if a trophied Molesworih iirg'd the 
 
 Or, if a Fulford rescued lady bright) 
 
 See Modern Hist, of Cornwall for notices 
 of Molesworth and Fulford, as heroes of the 
 Crusad^Sj Vol. 1. p. 20. 
 
NOTlilS. .562 
 
 Pp. 179, 180. 
 
 (I have heard^ at evening-fall^ 
 tiuaintly tun'd^ the gay miskuL) 
 
 The miskal, or pipe — the santoor, or psal- 
 tery — the zambooria, or bagpipe. 
 
 P. 180- 
 
 (Young May o'er the purple grove 
 Sprinkling odourous life and love) 
 
 Of the Greek dances in honour of Flora 
 ©n the first of May, and of the Greek hymn 
 to May so full of sweet expression : 
 
 Ka^a>» sTiOcy -n lAocla, ! in Ma»a I 
 
 We have still the shadow and the echo in the 
 Fun-y of HelstQn, or of E^Xa^, as it was cal- 
 led in the days of paganism. See Voyage 
 Litteraire de Grece, T. i. p. 200 — and 
 see Ancient Hist, of Cornwall, Vol. I Pp. 44, 
 45, 46. 
 
 P. 193. 
 
 (The swelling notes of organ grand, 
 Sancebell and sanctuaiy were s(ilL) 
 
 The Sancebell, or sacring-bell, announcing 
 the elevation of the host. 
 
 P. 195. 
 
 f How light the breeze 
 
 In whispers kiss'd the deep-blue seas,) 
 
 1 i 2 
 
9G6 NOTBS. 
 
 *' Thro' a hold opening of the mountains 
 
 gleam'd 
 The DEEPENED azure of the Egean wave." 
 
 p. 8. 
 " The BLUE sea with clustering isles embost." 
 
 p. 56. 
 See Grecian Prospects, a Poem. 1799« 
 
 P. 1-96. 
 
 (Brilliant and vivid were the dyes 
 ^'i cross the lovely western skies.) 
 
 That the modern Greeks are sufficiently 
 sensible of their "perpetually laughing'* 
 skies, is evident from their famous memorial 
 presented to the Empress of Russia in 1790. 
 " o Ovfavoq eczvvccuq yE^vft;^." — See Eton's Turk- 
 ish Empire, 8vo, p. 358. 
 
 P. 198. 
 
 (Yes (ctned the Greek) Mohammed's bird/ 
 
 The vulture, so called by the Turks &c. 
 
 P. 205. 
 
 (I cannot live from daxvn to dusky 
 On locks of gold, or curls of musk) 
 
 The Persian Ferdusi, in his Shah Namah,, 
 describes the Turkish girls with ^'bodies ta- 
 per as the cypress" — *4ocks black as musk" 
 "cheeks full of roses" — ''lips sweet as wine,^ 
 and fragrant as rosewater." — See Jones's 
 Hist, of the Persian language. 
 
NOTES. 36* 
 
 Such resemblaijces, indeed, are frequent 
 in the poets of ancient Greece ; particularly 
 inTheocritus. In the epithalamium of He- 
 len, we have these Hnes : 
 
 **' — As the cypress in the garden, fair, 
 Or the tall steed that draws Thessaha's car, 
 Or, as the rising of the purple morn, 
 When far, far otf, the wintery clouds arc 
 
 borne — 
 E'en as the morn, when spring's soft zephyr 
 
 blows, .[glows.'* 
 
 With roseate charms the golden Helen 
 
 See Theocritus, Bion, Moschus, an^ 
 TvRTi^us, translated into English verse — 
 with dissertations &c. Sec. ill 2 Vols. 8vo 
 Vol. I. p. 142. 
 
 In the dissertations, this epithalamium is 
 again translated in imitation of the Song of 
 Solomon. '• She looked forth like the eye- 
 lids of the morning, when the rainy night is 
 past, and the winter is over and gone. She 
 rose, like a furrow in the held ; or a cypress 
 in the garden ; or the horse in the chariot of 
 Sicily.'" Vol. 11. p. 37. 
 
 P. 206. 
 
 (TlvS sated pleasur e still may sip 
 The dew drops tincturing Zoe's lip. 
 Some richer^ sweeter balm I ask 
 Than kisses rich as Ctuo's flask.) 
 
 1 i 3 
 
5d2J KOTES. 
 
 .For the exquisite flavour of the Chian wlne^ 
 See Pliny's Nat. Hist. L. XIV. C. 14. 
 
 Its fine fragrance was also celebrated : 
 " Surgit odor violam redolens, suavesque 
 
 hyacinthos — 
 Tota volat divinus odor per tecta.'' — 
 Hermip p. vers^ ab Athenaeo citat. latine red- 
 diti. 
 
 P. 207. 
 (Vet song averts the venoiii^d hiie^ 
 Where India rats her serpent fangy 
 Darting oft a deadly pang. 
 Charm' d by the flageolet or flute. 
 The spotted Cobra's rage is fled.) 
 
 See Forbes's Oriental Memoirs, Vol. I. 
 p. 211. 
 
 P. 255. 
 
 {With Mawi in her arms from the precipiee 
 sprang.) 
 
 In Sir John Carr's Travels in Scotland, 
 there occurs tke follov^ing passage. 
 
 *^When the Macleans of Loch-Buy posses- 
 sed in sovereignty the south side of the is- 
 land of Mull, the chacc afforded them both 
 recreation and food. On a day, when a 
 great hunt was to be given by the chief of^the 
 clan, he ordered one of his attendants, nam- 
 ed Gore or Godfrey, to stand at a certain pass, 
 and not to permit a stag to escape in that di- 
 
K0TE3. SW 
 
 rection on peril of losing his life. In*" the 
 chase some deer forced their way by hi,iii 
 notwithstanding every precaution, and the 
 haughty and enraged chief, instead of putt- 
 ing him to death, convened his clan andig- 
 nominiously chastised him on the summit of 
 a peak : pierced to the heart by a sense of 
 his disgrace, the oppressed Highlander, im- 
 mediately afterwards, seized tlie child of the 
 chief from the arms of its nurse, who was 
 standing amongst the clan, and leaped from 
 the peak, with the infant in his grasp, with 
 whom he alighted in safety upon a rock be- 
 low. The distracted father looked dovvn 
 with terror upon his child, and ixnplored tlie 
 Highlander \to restore it, offering him for- 
 giveness, rewards, and honours for his com- 
 pliance. Gore declared, that he would not 
 make up his mind until the chief had endur- 
 ed the same disgraceful chastisement which 
 had been inflicted upon him The chief sub- 
 mitted, and was scourged within his view, 
 and then again imptercd to have his child ; 
 upon which Gore, with a^hastiy grin and a 
 shout of exultation, precrpitated himself, 
 with the infant, from the rock whei eon he 
 stood to a dreadful depth below, and both 
 were instantly destroyed." 
 
 This historical event justifies the fiction 
 which concludes the Canto before us. 
 
961 NOTE». 
 
 P. 276. 
 (With admiration look\l around^ 
 On Knights and ladies ^ old Chamond) 
 
 For same anecdotes of this gentleman, se« 
 Modern Hist, of Cornwall, Vol. X. [on the 
 Pupulation&c] p. 36. 
 
 P. 277. 
 {Perchance^ that hoarysculptur* d rhymt) 
 
 Under the picture of Henry V. which stood 
 formerly over tlie great gate at Launceston^, 
 were these lines : 
 
 ** He that will do ought for mee, 
 
 Let him love well Sir John Tirlawnie. *' 
 
 The Trelawney -family papers, 
 
 P. 277. 
 
 {And hCy whose sire from Lisboa^s shore 
 ''Midst blazing galleys dashed the Moor,) 
 
 I here allude to the crest of Polwhele, — A 
 Moor"*^ head with an olive-branch in its 
 mouth. See Modern Hist, of Cornwall, Vol. 
 I. Pp. 13, 14, 15, 16, 17. 
 
 The gentleman here characterized was 
 John Polwhele [Johannes Polwheile de Pol- 
 wheile, arm. Visit,'] the great grandfather of 
 the John Polwhele already mentioned as. 
 Member for Tregoney He was the repre- 
 sentative in Parliament of his native county 
 of Cornwall, 4 and 5 Phil, and Mary. 
 
NGTE& 56« 
 
 His colleague was John Arundel of Lan- 
 herne Esq. [Br. Willis's Not. Pari. Vol. II, 
 p. 19. 
 
 Of this person, I possess an admirable por- 
 trait — We arc struck by his fine features — or 
 rather, by the pensive expression of his coun- 
 tenance — delineated, without doubt, by the 
 hand of a master. — Dr. Wolcot used to con- 
 sider it, as a first rate painting. And young 
 Opie (when under the Doctor's tuition, if I 
 may so say, at Truro) would, I believe, have 
 gazed at it for hours. Whilst engaged in 
 drawing the Author's picture, he was some- 
 times diverted from his task by that interest- 
 ing portrait. 
 
 P. 279. 
 
 (Where was whelm' a^ one mighty wrecks 
 With its hundred towers the Lioness e.) 
 
 For a full account of the submersion of the 
 land between Sylleh and Cornwall, see Sup» 
 plement to Ancient Hist, of Cornwall, Vol. 
 ill. Pp. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24. 
 
 P. 287. 
 yind rms'd herfronk her coffin cold) 
 
 We have an astonishing instance of revi- 
 viscence in one of the Edgcumbe family ; I 
 believe the mother of Sir Richard Edgcumbe 
 in 1748, The family were then residing at 
 Gotthele. Lady Edgcumbe had expired, in^ 
 
S€9 KOTESr. • 
 
 consequence of what disorder I am not in- 
 formed. Her body was deposited in the fa- 
 mily vault, not probably in less than a week 
 after her supposed death. The interment, 
 however, had not long taken place, before 
 the sexton,* from a motive sufficiently obvi- 
 ous, went down into the vault ; and observ- 
 ing a gold ring on her ladyship's finger, at- 
 tempted to draw it oft, but not succeeding, 
 pressed the finger, when the body very sen- 
 sibly moved in the coffin. The man ran off 
 in terror, leaving his lanthorn behind. Her 
 ladyship arose, and taking the lanthorn pro- 
 ceeded to the mansion-house. It was about 
 five years after, that, of her, Sir Richard was 
 born. Of the authenticity of this account, 
 there can be no reasonable doubt. A few 
 years ago, a gentleman of my acquaintance 
 heard all the particulars of the transaction^ 
 from the late Lord Graves, at Thancks, 
 which is in the neighbourhuod of Cotehele. 
 Sut 1 need not appeal to Lord Graves's au- 
 thority ; as I recollect the narrative as comr 
 ing from the lips of my grandmother Pol- 
 whele ; who used to render the story ex- 
 tremely interesting from a variety of minute 
 circumstances, and who from the connex- 
 ion and intimacy of her own with the Edg- 
 cumbe family was unquestionably well in- 
 formed on the subject. See Modern Hist of 
 Cornwall vol. x. p. Il2. 
 
KOTES. STO 
 
 P. 323. 
 
 {Down the high cliff he leaps^ Mnd wooes a 
 foreign grave,) 
 
 See Modern Hist, of Cornwall, Vol, L 
 p. 43* from Tonkin^s MSS. 
 
 P. 324, 
 
 (His Edgcumhe wafts the courtesies of life y) 
 
 Of Sir Richard Edgcumbe's embassies to 
 Calais, Scotland and Ireland, in the reign of 
 Henry VII, see a circuaistantial account in 
 the Modern Hist of Cornwall, Vol. 1. Pp. 48, 
 49, 50, 51. 
 
 P. 337 
 
 {Despofs frowns create) 
 
 Such had the author written about two 
 years ago — He had intended to strike out 
 the passage. But our efforts to accommo- 
 date our reflections to the passing series of 
 events, must prove aboriivc -, where all is 
 fluctuating and transit xj to an uncommon 
 degree — where a king is no sooner seated on 
 his throne than it trembles to its base — where 
 hailing the return of peace, we yet expe- 
 rience war — and where the occurrences of 
 the day so lictie resemble what hath happen- 
 ed in times past, that the anticipation of the 
 future, would be even to the spirit of prophe- 
 cy an arduous task* 
 
^4 KOT£»» 
 
 P. 350. 
 
 (SC07Tviy friend) 
 
 **The Fair Isabel'* was some time with Mr. 
 Scott, who highly as he hath praised my 
 LOCAL ATTACHMENT and Other poems, 
 f see notes to ** the Lay of the Last Minstrel" 
 Edit. 13, p.325) was pleased to say in a letter 
 from Edinburgh dated lOjuly 1814: **I wrote 
 to you in winter on the subject of your valu- 
 abfe M S. which I think fully equal to any 
 which you have yet written." — In a subse- 
 quent paragraph, he observes : '< a small bu- 
 reau containing all my own papers and your 
 beautiful poem," was for some time inac- 
 cessible, — which he mentions as an apology 
 for his detaining the MS. so long. — ** I hope 
 however, there will be no delay in getting it 
 printed by January" — he says in another let- 
 ter bearing date 17 Sept. 1814. 
 There certainly has been a delay — to state 
 the cause of which, would be uninteresting 
 and frivolous. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Michell and Co. Printers, 
 TRURO. 
 
I 
 
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 9K 
 
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