Constance De Castile A Poem, in Ten Cantos. By William Sotheby |
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 | Constance De Castile |  |
IV.
Still, still the adverse breeze unkindAt Bayonne England's host confin'd.
Day after day, hour after hour,
The Monarch, on Corunna's tow'r,
Heard but the ceaseless tempest blow,
And ocean roll its surge below.
A bright oar sparkles on the main.
“Blow, warder! blow the welcome strain!
“Tell the glad tidings o'er and o'er:
“A sail salutes Corunna's shore,
“A galley anchors on the strand:
“A shout—'Tis England's!—hails the land.
“Castro! on thee thy Monarch calls:
“Brave chief! defend thy native walls!
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“Yon bark shall freely spread the sail,
“Ere close the jousts and festive day
“To Bourdeaux Castile's King convey:
“And Constance, fairest of the fair,
“High-honour'd, greet her champion there.”
| Constance De Castile | |