The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker Edited from the original manuscripts and annotated copies together with a prefatory notice and bibliography by Alfred Wallis |
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LINES OF DEDICATION TO H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES,
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 | The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker |  |
LINES OF DEDICATION TO H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES,
IN BLIGHT'S “ANCIENT CROSSES AND OTHER ANTIQUITIES IN EAST AND SOUTH CORNWALL.”
Hail! Prince and Duke! no happier name
Than thine amid our hills can stand,
To blend Old England's antique fame
With castled Cornwall's rocky land!
Thy Plume, our banner of the West,
The blind Bohemia's faithful crest!
Than thine amid our hills can stand,
To blend Old England's antique fame
With castled Cornwall's rocky land!
Thy Plume, our banner of the West,
The blind Bohemia's faithful crest!
159
Void was the land in days of yore,
Of warrior-deed and minstrel-song:
The unknown rivers sought the shore,
The nameless billows rolled along:—
Till Arthur, and the Table-round,
Made stern Tintadgel storied ground;
Of warrior-deed and minstrel-song:
The unknown rivers sought the shore,
The nameless billows rolled along:—
Till Arthur, and the Table-round,
Made stern Tintadgel storied ground;
Then shone the days of spear and shield:
When Cornwall's Duke was England's pride!
He won, on Creci's distant field,
The spurs that gleamed on Tamar-side:
The wreath at dark Poictiers he wore
Was heather from our Cornish shore!
When Cornwall's Duke was England's pride!
He won, on Creci's distant field,
The spurs that gleamed on Tamar-side:
The wreath at dark Poictiers he wore
Was heather from our Cornish shore!
Spell of the past! thy knightly name
May well the thrilling days recall
When heroes fought their fields of fame
And minstrels chanted in the hall
Till the last trophy stood, alone,
Yon Syrian Cross in Cornish stone!
May well the thrilling days recall
When heroes fought their fields of fame
And minstrels chanted in the hall
Till the last trophy stood, alone,
Yon Syrian Cross in Cornish stone!
But lo! the hills with grass are bright;
The valleys flow with rippling corn:
Tall cliffs that guard the couch of night,
Greet with calm smile the lip of morn:
And, revelling in his summer caves,
Old Ocean laughs with all his waves!
The valleys flow with rippling corn:
Tall cliffs that guard the couch of night,
Greet with calm smile the lip of morn:
And, revelling in his summer caves,
Old Ocean laughs with all his waves!
160
Hail! Heir of Thrones! beneath thy smile
We bend, where once our fathers bent:
And gather, with a shadowy toil,
Stones for a nation's monument!
Our kindling spell for Hope and Fame,
Duke of the West! thy native name!
We bend, where once our fathers bent:
And gather, with a shadowy toil,
Stones for a nation's monument!
Our kindling spell for Hope and Fame,
Duke of the West! thy native name!
1858.
| The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker | |