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] |
1. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. | XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
2. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
3. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
4. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
5. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
6. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. |
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||
XXX.
SONG.
1
“In camps and castles, now grown gray,I have pass'd many a minstrel day;
And peasant cots and cabins low
Once found me poor, and kept me so!
But, from my prime to wintery age,
Pleasant hath been my pilgrimage—
For I have hail'd, where-e'er I went,
My fellow-men, benevolent!
2
If I approach'd the mansion proud,Whose scutcheon'd front o'eraw'd the crowd
And ermin'd pomp drew every gaze,
The cloth of gold, the diamond blaze;
56
I harp'd away the blithsome hour;
In smiles, at tilt or tournament,
I read each heart—benevolent!
3
If, as amidst a pause from warPavilion'd valour beam'd afar,
And unicorn or fleur-de-lis
Wav'd in armorial blazonry,
I swept the strings, in festal state
Where canopied the leader sate,
Or charm'd the soldier's humbler tent—
Still was each voice—benevolent!
4
Where tabors wak'd the evening danceAs rang the vine-clad hills of France,
Oft have I join'd the social cheer
That gaily crown'd the purple year!
Oft have I seen the village train
The red-rich flask rejoicing drain;
58
Hail'd every look—benevolent!”
The old nun, shuddering on her couch,
Betray'd such fears as guilt avouch;
And the dark Confessor look'd round,
Revolting as from every sound;
When thus again the veteran Bard,
Eyeing the groupe with arch regard:
Betray'd such fears as guilt avouch;
And the dark Confessor look'd round,
Revolting as from every sound;
When thus again the veteran Bard,
Eyeing the groupe with arch regard:
(Song concluded)
5
“Yet hath the cross with influence kindMan's native charity refin'd;
And bid it sheathe the warriour-sword,
Inform the peasant and his lord;
Breathe from the heart a purer sigh,
And gild the tear in beauty's eye!
Then were not priests in mercy sent?
And are not nuns—benevolent?”
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||