Gaston de Blondeville, or The court of Henry III Keeping festival in Ardenne, a romance. St. Alban's Abbey, a metrical tale; With some poetical pieces. By Anne Radcliffe ... To which is prefixed: A memoir of the author, with extracts from her journals. In four volumes |
 | I. |
 | III,IV. |
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ON READING THE FOLLOWING BEAUTIFUL LINES, WRITTEN BY THE LATE LADY ELIZABETH LEE,
SISTER OF EARL HARCOURT,
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 | Gaston de Blondeville, or The court of Henry III |  |
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ON READING THE FOLLOWING BEAUTIFUL LINES, WRITTEN BY THE LATE LADY ELIZABETH LEE, SISTER OF EARL HARCOURT,
IN A BOWER CALLED BY HER NAME, AT ST. LEONARD'S HILL, THE SEAT OF THE EARL, IN WINDSOR FOREST; A SEAT WHICH STRANGERS ARE SOMETIMES PERMITTED TO VIEW.
“This peaceful shade—this green-roofed bower,
Great Maker! all are full of Thee;
Thine is the bloom, that decks the flower,
And Thine the fruit, that bends the tree.
Great Maker! all are full of Thee;
Thine is the bloom, that decks the flower,
And Thine the fruit, that bends the tree.
As much Creative Goodness charms
In these low shrubs, that humbly creep,
As in the oak, whose giant-arms
Wave o'er the high romantic steep.
In these low shrubs, that humbly creep,
As in the oak, whose giant-arms
Wave o'er the high romantic steep.
The bower, the shade, retired, serene,
The grateful heart may most affect;
Here, God in every leaf is seen,
And man has leisure to reflect!
The grateful heart may most affect;
Here, God in every leaf is seen,
And man has leisure to reflect!
“And I too was once of Arcadia.”
From this high lawn, beneath the varied green
Of grove and bower, dark oak and blossomed shade,
How brightly spreads the vale! how grand the scene
Of forest woods and towers, that lift the head
Of grove and bower, dark oak and blossomed shade,
How brightly spreads the vale! how grand the scene
Of forest woods and towers, that lift the head
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Majestic from the strife of ages past!
And seem to view, with melancholy smile,
The gloom of thought by solemn Pity cast
On the world, fleeting to its rest;—the while
And seem to view, with melancholy smile,
The gloom of thought by solemn Pity cast
On the world, fleeting to its rest;—the while
The fleeting world, all various and gay,
Sports in those villas and those hamlets free,
Where stretching tints of ripened harvest play
Among dark woods and meads of Arcady.
Sports in those villas and those hamlets free,
Where stretching tints of ripened harvest play
Among dark woods and meads of Arcady.
There Spires of Peace arise, and straw-roofed farm
By village green, from 'mid it's antient grove
Sends the high curling smoke, renowned charm
Of those, who watch how lights and shadows rove.
By village green, from 'mid it's antient grove
Sends the high curling smoke, renowned charm
Of those, who watch how lights and shadows rove.
Embattled Windsor, throned upon the vale,
Beneath these boughs displays its bannered state;
And learned Eton, o'er its willows pale,
Looks stern and sad, as mourning Henry's fate.
Beneath these boughs displays its bannered state;
And learned Eton, o'er its willows pale,
Looks stern and sad, as mourning Henry's fate.
On this high lawn, where Nature's wealth we view,
All is instinct with life and fine delight!
Trees of all shades, the flowers of every hue,
Shrubs breathing joy and blooming on the sight.
All is instinct with life and fine delight!
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Shrubs breathing joy and blooming on the sight.
Here bliss may dwell, and never, never die!
Vain thought! in that low bower there seems a voice,
Breathed, soft as summer winds o'er waters sigh,
“I once, like you, could in this scene rejoice.
Vain thought! in that low bower there seems a voice,
Breathed, soft as summer winds o'er waters sigh,
“I once, like you, could in this scene rejoice.
This was my bower of bliss! Approach and read!”
It sunk, that solemn sound, and died on air.
Within the cell I passed with reverend dread,
And found the angel-spirit still was there.
It sunk, that solemn sound, and died on air.
Within the cell I passed with reverend dread,
And found the angel-spirit still was there.
Still in “that green-roofed bower,” that “peaceful shade,”
Whose changeful prospect seems for ever new,
The pomp of forests stretching till they fade,
And sleep in softness on the distant blue.—
Whose changeful prospect seems for ever new,
The pomp of forests stretching till they fade,
And sleep in softness on the distant blue.—
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Still in that fine repose—that once-loved bower,
Breathe thoughts of heavenly mind, that speak of God!
And tell a heart, which, grateful, owned His power
In every leaf, that paints the humble sod.
Breathe thoughts of heavenly mind, that speak of God!
And tell a heart, which, grateful, owned His power
In every leaf, that paints the humble sod.
Fast fell my tears, as flowed with her's my thought,
The living feeling with the voice of Death!
The glowing joy by Nature's beauty wrought
With proof how transient is even rapture's breath.
The living feeling with the voice of Death!
The glowing joy by Nature's beauty wrought
With proof how transient is even rapture's breath.
Here in this shade she sat! fast fell my tears;
When my sad mind a hushing music won;
Again mild accents seemed to soothe my fears,
And murmur, “Grieve not that her race is run!
When my sad mind a hushing music won;
Again mild accents seemed to soothe my fears,
And murmur, “Grieve not that her race is run!
The pious heart, the comprehensive mind,
These were of Heaven, and are to Heaven returned!”
It was a seraph's voice upon the wind;
I heard her song of joy; I heard! nor longer mourned.
These were of Heaven, and are to Heaven returned!”
It was a seraph's voice upon the wind;
I heard her song of joy; I heard! nor longer mourned.
| Gaston de Blondeville, or The court of Henry III | |