Poems by Hartley Coleridge With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes |
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| XLII. | XLII.
TO MISS ISABELLA FENWICK. |
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 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
44
XLII. TO MISS ISABELLA FENWICK.
Fain would I put my meanings in the tongueFamiliar, lady, to thy earliest years,
That gives the finest edge to social jeers;
The language, which by merry bard was sung
In times of old, to ladies fair, among
The courts devoted to sublime amours
By gay trouveurs, and knightly troubadours,
Accents o'er which the Scottish Mary hung
Her beauteous head enamour'd. Yet I trust
Thou wilt not scorn the talk of this old isle,
The tongue which Milton raised to themes sublime,
On which keen Pope bestowed his poignance just,
Which Cowper graced with melancholy smile,
And Spenser hallowed with immortal rhyme.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |