Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads Jacobite Ballads, &c. &c. By George W. Thornbury ... with illustrations by H. S. Marks |
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THE FOUNTAIN BEAULIEU. |
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 | Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads |  |
14
THE FOUNTAIN BEAULIEU.
The silver plume of the fountain
Shakes in the summer wind,
Bright spray drops slowly trickle
Down the beech's glossy rind;
Untiring sweet, as woman's tongue,
Those waters do appear,
That fill the Fountain Beaulieu
In the spring time of the year.
Shakes in the summer wind,
Bright spray drops slowly trickle
Down the beech's glossy rind;
Untiring sweet, as woman's tongue,
Those waters do appear,
That fill the Fountain Beaulieu
In the spring time of the year.
The fountain's glittering banner
The wind blows struggling out,
Sprinkling, like showers of April,
The young flowers all about;
With lavish hand the sea-god flings
The silver far and near,
Gaily at Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
The wind blows struggling out,
Sprinkling, like showers of April,
The young flowers all about;
With lavish hand the sea-god flings
The silver far and near,
Gaily at Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
15
Through a veil of crystal drippings
A marble form appears:
It might, indeed, be Niobe,
Melting away in tears;
Gay in the granite basin
The bubbles swim and veer
Round the palace fount at Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
A marble form appears:
It might, indeed, be Niobe,
Melting away in tears;
Gay in the granite basin
The bubbles swim and veer
Round the palace fount at Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
And when the sun looks smiling out,
Bright rainbow mists arise,
As glorious as if Juno
Had sent the peacock's dyes
To veil her marble image,
And worshippers to cheer,
Such pleasures are at Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
Bright rainbow mists arise,
As glorious as if Juno
Had sent the peacock's dyes
To veil her marble image,
And worshippers to cheer,
Such pleasures are at Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
Gold paves the stately terrace,
The sun of an April morn,
And far beyond the gardens
Rings out the lusty horn;
The dogs are hoarsely baying,
To wake the sleepers near,
Rousing thy echoes, Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
The sun of an April morn,
And far beyond the gardens
Rings out the lusty horn;
The dogs are hoarsely baying,
To wake the sleepers near,
Rousing thy echoes, Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
16
In the court-yard stands a dial,
With the motto “Man's a shade,”
The peacock, like a sultan,
His glory has displayed;
Through emeraldine lustre
Flushes of gold appear
Beside the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
With the motto “Man's a shade,”
The peacock, like a sultan,
His glory has displayed;
Through emeraldine lustre
Flushes of gold appear
Beside the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
The cock, that stately monarch,
Leads out his chattering wives,
The lime trees all in blossom
Are grown to mountain hives,
The pigeons on the gables
Are cooing without fear
Above thy fountain, Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
Leads out his chattering wives,
The lime trees all in blossom
Are grown to mountain hives,
The pigeons on the gables
Are cooing without fear
Above thy fountain, Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
The spray from the music water
Drives off the cruizing bees,
Its babble drowns the thrushes' song
Among the dewy trees;
Against the sky of azure
The dove's white wings appear
Beside the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
Drives off the cruizing bees,
Its babble drowns the thrushes' song
Among the dewy trees;
Against the sky of azure
The dove's white wings appear
Beside the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
17
Soft shone the sun of April
Upon the swarded grass,
Pale gleams from amber cloudings
Over the green turf pass;
The blackbird piped and fluted,
The throstle chanted clear
Beside the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
Upon the swarded grass,
Pale gleams from amber cloudings
Over the green turf pass;
The blackbird piped and fluted,
The throstle chanted clear
Beside the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
So stately down the river,
Between the sloping lawns,
Floated the swan and cygnets,
Scaring the drinking fawns;
Their white breasts scarcely ruffled,
The water crystal clear—
O! the pleasant fount of Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
Between the sloping lawns,
Floated the swan and cygnets,
Scaring the drinking fawns;
Their white breasts scarcely ruffled,
The water crystal clear—
O! the pleasant fount of Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
The noisy rooks were building
In the tops of the lofty elms,
That shook in the breeze of April
Like plumes in a thousand helms;
For morn had come to the weeping earth,
And kissed away each tear,
O! pleasant home of Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
In the tops of the lofty elms,
That shook in the breeze of April
Like plumes in a thousand helms;
For morn had come to the weeping earth,
And kissed away each tear,
O! pleasant home of Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
18
The sun on blazoned windows
Shone with a lustre rare,
The mole came up from his winter grave,
The snake from his silent lair;
The swallow tired with travel,
The young birds' carols cheer.
O the noisy woods of Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year!
Shone with a lustre rare,
The mole came up from his winter grave,
The snake from his silent lair;
The swallow tired with travel,
The young birds' carols cheer.
O the noisy woods of Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year!
Bright bursts of sun so laughter-like
With fitful joy broke out;
The lark, blue heaven's hermit,
Sprang up from the fields without;
White in the happy sunlight,
The rooks' black wings appear,—
'Twas at the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
With fitful joy broke out;
The lark, blue heaven's hermit,
Sprang up from the fields without;
White in the happy sunlight,
The rooks' black wings appear,—
'Twas at the Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
The clock in the great court turret
Was glistening in the sun,
But Time, with shadowy finger,
Athwart the disc began
To point to noon and evening,
Alas! to morn too near,
O! pleasant Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
Was glistening in the sun,
But Time, with shadowy finger,
Athwart the disc began
To point to noon and evening,
Alas! to morn too near,
O! pleasant Fountain Beaulieu,
In the spring time of the year.
| Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads | |