 | The Castle of Tintadgel and the Isle of Poplars |  |
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THE CASTLE OF TINTADGEL,
OR THE CAPTIVE PRINCESS OF DENMARK.
Argument.
In a battle between the Saxons and Danes, Arvina, the beautiful daughter of Sweno King of Denmark, having been taken prisoner by Odred, Chief of the Saxons, is confined in the Castle of Tintadgel. There the lovely Mourner is represented as surrounded with every circumstance of horror. At length, in fancy, she sees the ghost of her father, and swoons away and dies.
I
High o'er Tintadgel's ecchoing tow'rsFlew the dark Genius of the blast:
Around the scene the tempest lours,
And roars along the spectred waste:
Whilst the blue meteor stream'd with transient light,
The rolling thunder shook the shades of night.
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II
Immur'd amidst these dreary walls,A solitary Mourner sat,
And, as the shade of sorrow falls
Dark from the hov'ring cloud of fate,
Oft from her eye the silent waters start,
Pale her wan cheek, and cold her flutt'ring heart.
III
Where erst the wanton zephyr stray'd,Enamour'd of her heaving breast,
Where auburn locks of beauty play'd,
The ruder gales in fury prest:
Yet softly languish'd each disorder'd grace,
Yet smil'd the dying sweetness of her face.
IV
To soothe her woe, no ev'ning starDiffus'd its lustre o'er the sky;
No gentle spirit caught the tear
That dropp'd from Pity's melting eye.
While trembling on her white arm lean'd her head,
In many a broken sound she mourn'd the dead.
V
Oft starting wildly from her seat,What conflicts shook her shiv'ring frame!
Alarm'd she hears the dread waves beat,
Alarm'd she views the wrathful flame,
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Threats with the blast of death her virgin form.
VI
Yet troubled Fancy to her eye,In lively portraiture displays,
Amid her woes of deeper dye,
The vision of her happier days:
And, as her sighs pervade the unfeeling air,
Thus solitary mourns the poor distracted fair:—
VII
“To wish for life, alas, how vain!“Arvina wooes the dreary tomb:
“But oh, in stillness to complain,
“Relieves the pensive mourner's doom!
“How fruitless for a gleam of hope the prayer!
“Arvina falls a victim to despair.
VIII
“Soon may the pangs of life be o'er,“(Who ever wish'd to live and pine)
“And let me hasten to the shore
“Where parted friends and lovers join!
“Rage then, ye light'nings! hurry to the grave
“The wretch, whom pity would refuse to save.
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IX
“Ne'er may these streaming eyes again“The sun's all-chearing orb survey;
“Those streaming eyes would view with pain
“The glories of the golden day!
“No—let the demons of this glooming hour,
“Swift, swift destruction on Arvina pour.
X
“To see once more my natal seat,“Could it a bleeding bosom ease?
“No, it might aggravate the weight,
“If aught the burthen could increase:
“The sweetest scenes, that once allur'd the heart,
“Would with new poison taint affliction's dart.
XI
“But yester morn's gay-smiling beam“Beheld our troops in bright array,
“Their high helms shot a radiant beam,
“Flush'd with warm hopes they hail'd the day;
“The car-borne heroes pour'd with eager force,
“While ecchoed loud the thunder of their course.
XII
“Great Sweno led the destin'd host,“The lost Arvina's hoary sire;
“Ah! what avails his valour's boast,
“Ah! what the breast of martial fire?
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“He wav'd with deep'ning rage his blood-stain'd blade.
XIII
“Alas! how soon, amid the slain,“The dearest to Arvina's soul
“Lies stretch'd on Rendro's loaded plain,
“How soon his eyes in darkness roll!
“From conqu'ring Odred flew th'avenging steel,
“The rocks loud ecchoed as the hero sell!
XIV
“Thus the stern Prince of Loda's heath,“Thus sunk with wounds, a father died!
“Sweet to Arvina's heart were death,
“To pour her life by Sweno's side!
“Come death, and wrap me in thy dreary shroud,
“Come, and these streaming eyes for ever cloud.
XV
“Though lost a Father's tender care,“Though a dear Sire in dust be laid,
“Yet, from the madness of despair,
“Morno might guard his much lov'd maid:
“Oh, Morno! from thy eyes, illustrious youth.
“Shone the sweet beams of innocence and truth.
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XVI
“Thy death-seal'd eyes shall now no more“In transports on Arvina gaze,
“Beneath the green o'ershading bow'r,
“Where Pleasure sang her chearful lays:
“No more in Denmark, o'er the conscious grove,
“Shall breathing Zephyrs waft the voice of love.
XVII
“While welt'ring on the hostile ground,“Thy mangled corse unburied lies,
“Haply, with sadly-wailing sound,
“Thy spirit through the tempest flies!
“Haply it hovers o'er this midnight shade,
“Which glooms all dreary round a captive maid!
XVIII
“And thou, my Sire, with sullen air,“Where roams, alas! thy wild'ring ghost?
“Dost thou, dear injur'd Shade, repair
“On wings of winds to Denmark's coast?
“Thy martial offspring shall avenge thy death,
“And load with hills of slain the groaning heath.
XIX
“O'er thy pale corpse one humble stone,“Oh! that some pitying hand could raise;
“Some minstrel sigh the fun'ral moan,
“Sweet as the bards of ancient days:
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“And steal thy actions from oblivion's cave!
XX
“If these weak hands could raise a tomb,“My Morno's darkling soul to chear,
“Or these dim eyes, amidst the gloom,
“Embalm his body with a tear;
“Then would I smiling at the tempest die,
“And yield my spirit with a willing sigh.
XXI
“That little pow'r denied, thy Fair“Wails to the dashing waves, forlorn!
“From yon dim-waving tents of war,
“To these lone walls of horror borne!
“Destin'd, ah destin'd, for a tyrant's lust—
“No! fly Heav'n's hallow'd shafts, and plunge me in the dust.
XXII
“Hark! 'tis a hollow sound of woe,“O'er the dark tow'rs assails my ear;
“Hark! the faint groan of death I know,
“I see the light'ning of a spear!
“'Tis Sweno, or illusion mocks my eye,
“He gleams half viewless thro' the broken sky.”
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XXIII
Feebly she spoke—and sunk away,With keenest anguish to the grave!
The pale ghost leaves the struggling clay,
While the last pangs of horror heave!
Thus wrapt around by midnight's howling shade,
Perish'd, alas! the poor distracted maid.
XXIV
Here oft (as pensive poets say)Amid these melancholy walls,
Arvina's ghost is seen to stray;
While many a mould'ring fragment falls:
From yon dim rock her sighs incessant heave,
And join the murmur of the restless wave.
451
THE ISLE OF POPLARS.
To the Memory of Rousseau.
In yon isle, where the wings of silence seem
To hover o'er the circling stream,
The relicks of departed genius sleep!
Assembled there, the Maids
Who love those favourite shades,
Pale as the poplar shall in anguish weep.
To hover o'er the circling stream,
The relicks of departed genius sleep!
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Who love those favourite shades,
Pale as the poplar shall in anguish weep.
Fled are the visions of romance!
No more to wake the dance
Float airy warblings from the lute of love;
While viewless powers around,
Charm'd by the silver sound,
Scatter'd with many a simple sweet the grove!
No more to wake the dance
Float airy warblings from the lute of love;
While viewless powers around,
Charm'd by the silver sound,
Scatter'd with many a simple sweet the grove!
Ye poplars that delight to wave
Your boughs o'er yonder grave,
Such as of ancient days your amber shed;
Let sweets from all the vale
Come wafted on the gale:
So fragrant sorrows shall embalm the dead.
Your boughs o'er yonder grave,
Such as of ancient days your amber shed;
Let sweets from all the vale
Come wafted on the gale:
So fragrant sorrows shall embalm the dead.
But lo! with blushing field-flowers strung
Her golden locks among,
On Rousseau's tomb reclin'd, a female form!
Behold the lucid tear
Thro' her green veil appear,
That shook by sighs betrays the wild alarm!
Her golden locks among,
On Rousseau's tomb reclin'd, a female form!
Behold the lucid tear
Thro' her green veil appear,
That shook by sighs betrays the wild alarm!
'Tis Fancy—thus near Avon's tide,
Her rude wreaths scatter'd wide,
Such artless charms arrest the pensive eye;
There oft her strains of woe
For her own Poet flow,
And sweetly on the trembling zephyrs die!
Her rude wreaths scatter'd wide,
Such artless charms arrest the pensive eye;
There oft her strains of woe
For her own Poet flow,
And sweetly on the trembling zephyrs die!
453
Amid these fairy scenes awhile
Elysium's loveliest isle,
Oh Fancy, shall thy wand'ring steps delay!
And Wit, whose various gems
“That share each other's beams”
In cold collision glance a fainter ray.
Elysium's loveliest isle,
Oh Fancy, shall thy wand'ring steps delay!
And Wit, whose various gems
“That share each other's beams”
In cold collision glance a fainter ray.
But oh! the Muse beholds in sighs
Fantastic shapes arise
With air grotesque, in motley garments drest;
The wizzard passions wild,
And Frenzy's fav'rite child
Caprice, oft varying her cameleon vest.
Fantastic shapes arise
With air grotesque, in motley garments drest;
The wizzard passions wild,
And Frenzy's fav'rite child
Caprice, oft varying her cameleon vest.
Yet here while float these antic forms
To mar Elysium's charms,
Each image Candour's sober eye surveys;
He knows how genius fires
The soul with wild desires,
And flings o'er Virtue's self th'eccentric blaze.
To mar Elysium's charms,
Each image Candour's sober eye surveys;
He knows how genius fires
The soul with wild desires,
And flings o'er Virtue's self th'eccentric blaze.
Inspir'd with fairer—lovelier views,
The solitary Muse
Marks Ermenonville's melancholy shade,
Where oft her lov'd Rousseau,
With pensive steps and slow,
Join'd sweet Simplicity, his fav'rite maid.
The solitary Muse
Marks Ermenonville's melancholy shade,
Where oft her lov'd Rousseau,
With pensive steps and slow,
Join'd sweet Simplicity, his fav'rite maid.
And on that hour her thoughts shall dwell,
When oh! with long farewell,
Sudden his gentle spirit sought the sky!
Ah! then was heard a wail
O'er Ermenonville's dale—
Then glow'd the pearly drops in Nature's eye.
When oh! with long farewell,
Sudden his gentle spirit sought the sky!
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O'er Ermenonville's dale—
Then glow'd the pearly drops in Nature's eye.
Near yonder spot their offerings join
At Nature's holy shrine,
The smiling babes of innocence and love!
The hand of friendship gave,
To deck the sylvan grave,
All that can fancy fire or pity move!
At Nature's holy shrine,
The smiling babes of innocence and love!
The hand of friendship gave,
To deck the sylvan grave,
All that can fancy fire or pity move!
Each morn shall breathe its softest breeze,
Amid th'embow'ring trees,
Where Rousseau's dim stone glimmers o'er the scene!
The sod that wraps his clay
Shall blush, each orient day
Shed flow'ry sweets, and catch a brighter green!
Amid th'embow'ring trees,
Where Rousseau's dim stone glimmers o'er the scene!
The sod that wraps his clay
Shall blush, each orient day
Shed flow'ry sweets, and catch a brighter green!
And Venus' solitary star
Shall love to hover near,
While in mysterious silence sleep the streams,
And there with transient glow,
The western sun shall throw
The last faint blushes of his ev'ning beams.
Shall love to hover near,
While in mysterious silence sleep the streams,
And there with transient glow,
The western sun shall throw
The last faint blushes of his ev'ning beams.
| The Castle of Tintadgel and the Isle of Poplars | |