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Narrative poems on the Female Character

in the various relations of life. By Mary Russell Mitford ... Vol. I
Mitford, Mary Russell (1787-1855)
  
[dedication]

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[section]
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BLANCH;
  
Introduction.
collapse sectionI. 
CANTO I.
 I. 
[I.]
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
collapse sectionXII. 
XII.
  
Serenade continued.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVII. 
XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
XXIX.
 XXX. 
XXX.
 XXXI. 
XXXI.
 XXXII. 
XXXII.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
XXXV.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX.
 XL. 
XL.
 XLI. 
XLI.
 XLII. 
XLII. THE SENTENCE.
 XLIII. 
XLIII.
 XLIV. 
XLIV.
 XLV. 
XLV.
 XLVI. 
XLVI.
 XLVII. 
XLVII.
 XLVIII. 
XLVIII.
 XLIX. 
XLIX.
 L. 
L.
 II. 
CANTO II.
 III. 
CANTO III.
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CANTO IV.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVII. 
XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
XXIX.
 XXX. 
XXX.
 XXXI. 
XXXI.
 XXXII. 
XXXII.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
XXXV.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX.
 XL. 
XL.
 XLI. 
XLI.
 XLII. 
XLII.
 XLIII. 
XLIII.
 XLIV. 
XLIV.
 XLV. 
XLV.
 XLVI. 
XLVI.
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THE RIVAL SISTERS;
 I. 
CANTO I.
 II. 
CANTO II.
 III. 
CANTO III.

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212

XI.

Oh, in her mind far other thought
Rankled, by love and pity taught!
Almanzor's last fond parting word,
By Heli told, still, still she heard:
And still she turn'd her anxious eye
Tow'rds the far distant balcony;
Where a last glance to catch he stood,
Till winding down the hilly wood,
The train, in long procession dight,
And she, the jewel heavenly bright,
His lovely Blanch, was hid from sight!
Still thro' the long, long day she turn'd
To the Alhambra's lofty tower;
And as her breast with anguish burn'd,
213

She closer press'd the orange flower;
Sole relic of Almanzor's bower,
To soothe, to cheer, how vast its power!
He sent it to the drooping maid;
And some as precious token pray'd
By his dear lady given
O well that gift her love express'd!
The crucifix from her fair breast
In Heli's hand the Princess press'd,
“Say 'tis the guide to me, to heaven!”
Emotion chok'd the rest.
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