Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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THE MAIDEN'S SONG OF SORROW. |
 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
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THE MAIDEN'S SONG OF SORROW.
“Dark, dark Roncesvalles! stern battle-ground hear,
Give a voice a low voice from thy stillness so drear,
How sleeps he, my lost one, the true and the brave,
'Mid your silence and shadows, dread place of the grave.
Give a voice a low voice from thy stillness so drear,
How sleeps he, my lost one, the true and the brave,
'Mid your silence and shadows, dread place of the grave.
“Oh! dark Roncesvalles, to Fancy's sad eye,
Thou seem'st but a place where Love's true heart must die,
A haunt of sick fear, and a scene of dim gloom,
A field of dull mourning—a vault and a tomb.
Thou seem'st but a place where Love's true heart must die,
A haunt of sick fear, and a scene of dim gloom,
A field of dull mourning—a vault and a tomb.
“The stars there with cold funeral splendours must shine,
The clouds hang like palls o'er that dread field of thine,
And the deep tempest-anthems rise awful and loud,
O'er your pines, Roncesvalles, a stern spectral crowd.
The clouds hang like palls o'er that dread field of thine,
And the deep tempest-anthems rise awful and loud,
O'er your pines, Roncesvalles, a stern spectral crowd.
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“Dark, dark Roncesvalles! give voice from the dust—
How sleeps he—the joy of my Soul and its trust?—
His blood made you hateful—his dust makes you dear!
Dark, dark Roncesvalles!—thou distant and drear!
How sleeps he—the joy of my Soul and its trust?—
His blood made you hateful—his dust makes you dear!
Dark, dark Roncesvalles!—thou distant and drear!
“Give reply to the voice of my passion's despair—
Doth his phantom e'er rise on your night-clouded air?
Oh! would I could live where his scattered dust lies,
Till my Soul may join his in the blessed bright skies!”
Doth his phantom e'er rise on your night-clouded air?
Oh! would I could live where his scattered dust lies,
Till my Soul may join his in the blessed bright skies!”
Thus murmured the maiden whose lover afar,
Had fallen in the shock and the tempest of war;
But no answer was rendered—vain, vain was her wail,
Since her lover lay mute—Oh! what voice might avail?
Had fallen in the shock and the tempest of war;
But no answer was rendered—vain, vain was her wail,
Since her lover lay mute—Oh! what voice might avail?
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |