Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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THE SPANISH EXILE'S LAMENT. |
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 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
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THE SPANISH EXILE'S LAMENT.
Oh! ye blue and warbling Waters stray
At your own sweet will, your own sweet way,
Nor blend one sorrowing tone among
The glad sounds of your liquid song,
For her who dieth—dieth far
From her own beloved Western Star.
At your own sweet will, your own sweet way,
Nor blend one sorrowing tone among
The glad sounds of your liquid song,
For her who dieth—dieth far
From her own beloved Western Star.
Hills of my Sunny, Sunny Spain,
Must ye look down on the corse-strewn plain?
Streams of my lovely Land afar,
Must your waves in blood image back the Star?
Oh! Valleys of my Country sweet,
Must ye groan beneath Ruin's trampling feet?
Must ye look down on the corse-strewn plain?
Streams of my lovely Land afar,
Must your waves in blood image back the Star?
Oh! Valleys of my Country sweet,
Must ye groan beneath Ruin's trampling feet?
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Then the absent One is blest to be
Spared the stern sight of thy misery,
Far from thy Hills, and far from thy Plains,
Where discord—where devastation reigns—
In the dreams that rise up at Love's command,
Still can I hail thee a Happy Land!
Spared the stern sight of thy misery,
Far from thy Hills, and far from thy Plains,
Where discord—where devastation reigns—
In the dreams that rise up at Love's command,
Still can I hail thee a Happy Land!
Then let me, my Sunny, Sunny Spain,
Far from thy strife-cursed Soil remain,
And see thy Hills, thy Plains, and thy Streams,
Only in Memory's embalming dreams—
Since still thou seem'st, though thus wrung thou art,
As a Happy Land to my yearning heart!
Far from thy strife-cursed Soil remain,
And see thy Hills, thy Plains, and thy Streams,
Only in Memory's embalming dreams—
Since still thou seem'st, though thus wrung thou art,
As a Happy Land to my yearning heart!
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |