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 | ||
XXIV.
“There, scarce as in the den of death“For pale expectance I drew breath,
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“I started from a heavy sigh.
“For a few seconds all was hush'd—
“It seem'd as if to stir the shade
“The very gales were now afraid!
“But again a moan,
“A deeper sob, a human groan
“With horror did I hear!
“When, on by some strange impulse pusht,
“Where lay my lady I ventur'd near!
“And with amaze did I perceive
“Yet hardly could my sense believe
“Her body not at rest;
“And, from wild hope at once grown bold,
“Her icy hand's weak pulses press'd
“And rais'd her from her coffin cold;
“And, midst the charnel shiverings dark,
“Welcom'd her life's rekindling spark,—
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“The massy door above unbarr'd:
“And woefully its hinges jarr'd.
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||