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 | ||
84
X.
And more did she the cavern prize;As (when the red-rose and the white
Flar'd ominous to decide in fight
Of many a house the destinies)
Her great grandsire had nigh this spot
Eluding his pursuers shot,
(While the copse deepen'd as to wrap
His body in a denser gloom)
Dash'd to their seeming in the wave—
They heard the plunge; and his floating cap
Sure signal of immersion gave—
The inscription on his watery tomb!
And when fierce swords again were sheath'd
And with the peaceful olive wreath'd,
He rear'd, at the cavern-rock,
A fabric that his praises spoke,
Nor shall to ages speak in vain—
He rear'd the monumental fane!
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||