The fair Isabel of Cotehele a Cornish romance, in six cantos. By the author of Local attachment, and translator of Theocritus [i.e. Richard Polwhele] |
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The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||
III.
To lift the lid long long afraidHer moss-rose had the melting maid
Drawn fragrant from its chest,
And plac'd it on her kindling breast!
Tho' paler, yet its tints were fine,
And O! its essence was divine!
To lull a moment every pain
Delicious anodyne!
149
Then hope and fancy's fondest train
That such a fair illusion wove,
As if the object of her love,
Already were possest!
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||