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 |  |
XLI.
“Full on his foe Sir Richard rode;“And fierce the impatient charger glow'd,
“And neigh'd and beat each fiery hoof,
“As he beckon'd his lancemen to hang back aloof!—
“You would have thought, in tourney-fight,
“They were met rival knight with knight.
“'Twas in a dell they seem'd clos'd in
“Below the mansion-dome of Glynn.
“A brook, here cross'd by wooden bridge,
“To howling winter swell'd its roar
“As it dash'd its cavern'd floor;
“And there, high-pinnacled, a ridge
“Of granite all retreat denied—
“Deep forests darkening either side.
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“Spurr'd down the hill his steed in foam,
“Ere yet Trevanion could emerge
“To meet him on the upland verge.
“Plung'd in the flood the war-horse white;
“And, dreadful as the water-sprite,
“From out the torrent leap'd, and champ'd
“The burnisht bit, and pawing tramp'd
“All of his purple housings vain;
“And, like the meteor, stream'd his mane,
“Whilst for the battle he neigh'd again!
“Aloft by ermin'd herald rais'd
“The bristling boar in argent blaz'd!
| The fair Isabel of Cotehele | |