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 | ||
XXIX.
“My Edward!”—“O my life (he cried)“Could I but say, my heaven-linkt bride!
“By stealth I came these woods to explore,
“Scarce picturing such an hour!
“Tho' in my hopes I met you here,
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“Where all to childish pastimes dear,
“And to our fond vows dearer still,
“Summons back bliss, and shuts out ill,
“Elysian happiness!
“Yes! tho' amid the inclement waste,
“Or black from rains, or hoar from rime,
“Be all the woodland; yet we taste
“The flavour of the vernal prime.
“Our little bower of bloom still glows
“Midst naked trunks and shivering snows.”
The fair Isabel of Cotehele | ||