The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes |
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| XI. | XI. BOWSTRING |
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 | The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
399
XI. BOWSTRING
The canvas rattled on the mast
As rose the swelling sail,
And gallantly the vessel past
Before the cheering gale;
And on my First Sir Florice stood,
As the far shore faded now,
And looked upon the lengthening flood
With a pale and pensive brow:—
“When shall I bear thy silken glove
Where the proudest Moslem flee,
My lady love, my lady love,—
O waste one thought on me!”
As rose the swelling sail,
And gallantly the vessel past
Before the cheering gale;
And on my First Sir Florice stood,
As the far shore faded now,
And looked upon the lengthening flood
With a pale and pensive brow:—
“When shall I bear thy silken glove
Where the proudest Moslem flee,
My lady love, my lady love,—
O waste one thought on me!”
Sir Florice lay in a dungeon cell
With none to soothe or save,
And high above his chamber fell
The echo of the wave;
But still he struck my Second there,
And bade its tones renew
Those hours when every hue was fair
And every hope was true:—
“If still your angel footsteps move
Where mine may never be,
My lady love, my lady love,
O dream one dream of me!
With none to soothe or save,
And high above his chamber fell
The echo of the wave;
But still he struck my Second there,
And bade its tones renew
Those hours when every hue was fair
And every hope was true:—
400
Where mine may never be,
My lady love, my lady love,
O dream one dream of me!
Not long the Christian captive pined!—
My Whole was round his neck;
A sadder necklace ne'er was twined
So white a skin to deck:
Queen Folly ne er was yet content
With gems or golden store,
But he who wears this ornament
Will rarely sigh for more:—
“My spirit to the Heaven above,
My body to the sea,
My heart to thee, my lady love,—
O weep one tear for me!”
My Whole was round his neck;
A sadder necklace ne'er was twined
So white a skin to deck:
Queen Folly ne er was yet content
With gems or golden store,
But he who wears this ornament
Will rarely sigh for more:—
“My spirit to the Heaven above,
My body to the sea,
My heart to thee, my lady love,—
O weep one tear for me!”
| The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |