 | The poetical works of Barry Cornwall |  |
V
TO ROMANCE.
(By a Friend of the Author.)
Beautiful Spirit, who dost sit at eve
Within thy tapestried hall of shield and spear,
Upgazing where the dying sun-beams leave
The heaven in crimson—on thy cheek a tear,
Like dew upon the red rose, quivering, clear—
From thy pale brow half raised thy nun-like hood—
Thy ruby lip half opened, as to hear
Some floating music of the sky or wood—
Come, sweet Romance! from thine enchanted solitude.
Within thy tapestried hall of shield and spear,
Upgazing where the dying sun-beams leave
The heaven in crimson—on thy cheek a tear,
Like dew upon the red rose, quivering, clear—
From thy pale brow half raised thy nun-like hood—
Thy ruby lip half opened, as to hear
Some floating music of the sky or wood—
Come, sweet Romance! from thine enchanted solitude.
Not for myself I woo thee now to stand
Beside the harp: Loved Spirit, spread thy wings
Of veiling splendour over one whose hand
Wakes its first music from the golden strings;—
For he is thy true votary, and clings
To thy fallen altar with a love sublime,
And brings a gift of wild and witching things
From glorious Greece, from the Italian prime,
A coronal of gems from the rich depths of time.
Beside the harp: Loved Spirit, spread thy wings
Of veiling splendour over one whose hand
Wakes its first music from the golden strings;—
For he is thy true votary, and clings
To thy fallen altar with a love sublime,
And brings a gift of wild and witching things
From glorious Greece, from the Italian prime,
A coronal of gems from the rich depths of time.
G. C
| The poetical works of Barry Cornwall | |