 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
531
BRITOMART.
Oh! Britomart loveliest!—Oh! loved Britomart!
Unto me yield thy virgin and innocent heart,
For the smile of thy lip is to me more, far more,
Than the treasures that heap El Dorado's rich shore!
Unto me yield thy virgin and innocent heart,
For the smile of thy lip is to me more, far more,
Than the treasures that heap El Dorado's rich shore!
Oh! Britomart!—beautiful, bright Britomart!
'Tis for thee that I bear Love's deep, Soul-piercing smart;
The least knot that hath on thy gemmed stomachere lain,
Is more precious to me than all guerdon and gain!
'Tis for thee that I bear Love's deep, Soul-piercing smart;
The least knot that hath on thy gemmed stomachere lain,
Is more precious to me than all guerdon and gain!
Thou art far from me now—thou'rt the pride of the Court,
Where the great and the gay and the gallant resort,
And a crowd of young lovers there sigh in thy train,
For I know where thou art—Love for ever must reign!
Where the great and the gay and the gallant resort,
And a crowd of young lovers there sigh in thy train,
For I know where thou art—Love for ever must reign!
532
Let the Court-gallants flatter—the Court-nobles swear—
Let the Court-minstrels praise thee—thou first of the fair!
'Tis afar from the Court that with fond faithful breast
Mourns the poor contemned Lover who loves thee the best.
Let the Court-minstrels praise thee—thou first of the fair!
'Tis afar from the Court that with fond faithful breast
Mourns the poor contemned Lover who loves thee the best.
Ever fairest art thou, in Hall, Palace, and Bower,
In the garland of Beauty thou'rt still the chief flower;
Thou'rt the Queen of the Lovely!—Oh! deign but to prove
For the sake of thine Arnulf, the Queen too of Love!
In the garland of Beauty thou'rt still the chief flower;
Thou'rt the Queen of the Lovely!—Oh! deign but to prove
For the sake of thine Arnulf, the Queen too of Love!
No! I feel 'tis all hopeless—I know 'tis in vain—
Thou look'st scornfully down on my prayers and my pain,
Then away to the wars—let me give unto fame
My bright, tyrannous Ladye's too dearly-loved name!
Thou look'st scornfully down on my prayers and my pain,
Then away to the wars—let me give unto fame
My bright, tyrannous Ladye's too dearly-loved name!
Where'er shines the fair Sun, or the quartered Winds blow,
I will make men the pomp of thy beauty to know,
Where'er blow the free Winds, where'er Sunlight doth shine,
All mankind will I make sighing Lovers of thine!
I will make men the pomp of thy beauty to know,
Where'er blow the free Winds, where'er Sunlight doth shine,
All mankind will I make sighing Lovers of thine!
533
I will build such a Pyramid—mighty and proud—
To thine honour, Oh! Ladye!—my Sovran avowed!
All of passionate hearts fired with dreams of thy charms,
That e'en thou shalt say “Praised be his zeal and his arms!”
To thine honour, Oh! Ladye!—my Sovran avowed!
All of passionate hearts fired with dreams of thy charms,
That e'en thou shalt say “Praised be his zeal and his arms!”
All Europe, and Asia, and Afric shall share
In the passion I boast of—the penance I bear—
The World shall throb high with one deep mighty heart—
And that shall but beat for the adored Britomart!
In the passion I boast of—the penance I bear—
The World shall throb high with one deep mighty heart—
And that shall but beat for the adored Britomart!
Then perchance with a late, but a precious remorse,
Thou mayst turn to thine Arnulf—to arms! then—to horse!
Oh! that thought is enough to uphold, and inspire,
Still the hand is all strength, when the heart is all fire!
Thou mayst turn to thine Arnulf—to arms! then—to horse!
Oh! that thought is enough to uphold, and inspire,
Still the hand is all strength, when the heart is all fire!
All the wide World shall ring with my love and thy fame,
Tens of thousands shall echo my sighs, and thy name
And that World shall henceforth have but one burning heart,
And Oh! that shall but burn for the adored Britomart!
Tens of thousands shall echo my sighs, and thy name
And that World shall henceforth have but one burning heart,
And Oh! that shall but burn for the adored Britomart!
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