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 | ||
XXXV.
As if to fly impending wrath,She hasten'd, by a shorter path,
62
Across the armoury-window threw
Its ominous boughs. Sullen and sad
Murmur'd a sound thro' all its shade;
Now rustling, where she enter'd, crept;
Now rising, the cold armoury swept.
Sudden, along the lofty wall,
On many a warriour-ghost to call,
The morion clank'd; and hoarselier sigh'd
The mail that sabre-stroke defied;
And shook the spear, that had made sport
On the plains of Azincourt;
And sobb'd the corslet to the shield
That had drunk blood in Cressy's field.
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||