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 | ||
XVIII.
Yet foremost in the social bondAnd of his earliest pastimes fond,
With admiration look'd around
On knights and ladies, old Chamond!
Full many a board with friendship crown'd,
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Of grave debate or gay resort,
And many a chance, and many a change
Had the Knight witness'd; but, so strange
The events developed to his eyes—
Such ne'er before had rais'd surprize!
And Campernulph and rough Trelask,
Trelawney too stripp'd off his mask,
An 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 sire and king:
‘Hee that will do ought for mee,
‘Let him love well Sir John Tirlawnie!’
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;
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Offer'd his Cornwall's ready tear,
Softening the scowl severe
Of Mary's bigot rage!
And fair Mohun and faithful Saule
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 chief, 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,
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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;
And he, whose sea-borne father fled,
As his white horse (the legend said)
Did stoutly cleave
The roaring wave,
Where was whelm'd, one mighty wreck,
Amidst the unearthly shriek
Of desperation and distress,
With its hundred towers, the Lionesse!
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||