 | Heliconundrums |  |
48
A SPANISH LADY'S LOVE
WORDSWORTH WITH SWINBURNE
You have heard of a Spanish Lady:
How she would an Englishman;
How, lest fond arms should persuade, he
From her loving grip outran:
Hear now what he said, such grace had he
Who would not countenance her love, in no degree.
How she would an Englishman;
How, lest fond arms should persuade, he
From her loving grip outran:
Hear now what he said, such grace had he
Who would not countenance her love, in no degree.
Cold eyelids that hide like a jewel
Warm glances! hard eyes for an hour
Seeming soft! O most gentle and cruel
Young Englishman, conscious of power —
But he answer'd — The man you adore is
A husband, mayn't marry again:
So it 's best he should leave you, Dolores!
Young Lady of Spain!
Warm glances! hard eyes for an hour
Seeming soft! O most gentle and cruel
Young Englishman, conscious of power —
But he answer'd — The man you adore is
A husband, mayn't marry again:
So it 's best he should leave you, Dolores!
Young Lady of Spain!
O most gallant Captain! have pity!
Though thy wives they were seventy times seven,
Yet leave me not here in this city,
Still sighing for thee unforgiven —
But he answer'd — Albeit at core he 's
A Mormon and knows not disdain,
They 'd not have you at Rydal, Dolores!
Sweet Lady of Spain!
Though thy wives they were seventy times seven,
49
Still sighing for thee unforgiven —
But he answer'd — Albeit at core he 's
A Mormon and knows not disdain,
They 'd not have you at Rydal, Dolores!
Sweet Lady of Spain!
I am lovely and youthful and tender,
And love is likewise my desert:
When my hope comes to you in its splendour,
Will you call cold despair for my hurt? —
But he answer'd — By all thy soft glories,
Though I love and to wed you were fain,
'Twould be bigamy. That 's so, Dolores!
Fair Lady of Spain!
And love is likewise my desert:
When my hope comes to you in its splendour,
Will you call cold despair for my hurt? —
But he answer'd — By all thy soft glories,
Though I love and to wed you were fain,
'Twould be bigamy. That 's so, Dolores!
Fair Lady of Spain!
Ah, beautiful passionless body
That never has ached with a heart!
Ay, kill me! your hands will be bloody;
But love me before you depart! —
But he answer'd — The love you implore is
Not mine: must I tell you again
I 've a wife, and strong-minded, Dolores!
Fond Lady of Spain!
That never has ached with a heart!
Ay, kill me! your hands will be bloody;
But love me before you depart! —
But he answer'd — The love you implore is
Not mine: must I tell you again
I 've a wife, and strong-minded, Dolores!
Fond Lady of Spain!
By the hunger for change and emotion,
By the thirst for impossible things,
If you leave me, across the wide ocean
My love will pursue on swift wings. —
But he answer'd — A love gone before is
The oftenest follow'd in vain:
You 'll be safer at home, my Dolores!
Dear Lady of Spain!
By the thirst for impossible things,
If you leave me, across the wide ocean
My love will pursue on swift wings. —
But he answer'd — A love gone before is
The oftenest follow'd in vain:
50
Dear Lady of Spain!
O God of moist seasons and moister!
By the pearls on these hot cheeks of mine,
Would that I were the pearl of an oyster
So he were that bivalve divine! —
But he answer'd — The sea I pass o'er is
Too stormy for natives: your gain
Would be peril, not pearl, dear Dolores!
Bold Lady of Spain!
By the pearls on these hot cheeks of mine,
Would that I were the pearl of an oyster
So he were that bivalve divine! —
But he answer'd — The sea I pass o'er is
Too stormy for natives: your gain
Would be peril, not pearl, dear Dolores!
Bold Lady of Spain!
Yet break from the bonds that have girt you,
And sunder your spirit from clay!
Renounce your sub-Rydaline virtue!
My father will give me away. —
But he answer'd — At Rydal my store is:
I go home: no use to complain.
Yet I leave you my heart, my Dolores!
Loved Lady of Spain!
And sunder your spirit from clay!
Renounce your sub-Rydaline virtue!
My father will give me away. —
But he answer'd — At Rydal my store is:
I go home: no use to complain.
Yet I leave you my heart, my Dolores!
Loved Lady of Spain!
So he left the lovely lady.
But he took her chain of gold
And her bracelets two, which laid he
Down before his helpmate old:
Saying smiling,— Presents these for thee.
I do not tell my wife who gave them unto me.
But he took her chain of gold
And her bracelets two, which laid he
Down before his helpmate old:
Saying smiling,— Presents these for thee.
I do not tell my wife who gave them unto me.
| Heliconundrums | |