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Which, filling, consecrates the human breast.
LIST, ye who pass by Lyulph's Tower†
Fit music for a solemn vale!
And holier seems the ground
Not far from that fair site whereon
* See Note.
† A pleasure-house built by the late Duke of Norfolk upon the banks of Ullswater. FORCE is the word used in the Lake District for Waterfall.
As story says, in antique days
A stern-browed house appeared;
There set, and guarded well;
To win this bright Bird from her cage,
Full happy season, when was known,
Known chiefly, Aira! to thy glen,
Where Fact with Fancy stooped to play;
Doubt came not, nor regret,
To trouble hours that winged their way,
Whose sun could never set.
But in old times Love dwelt not long
Best throve the fire of chaste desire,
- Well with him it fared
Through wide-spread regions errant ;
A knight of proof in love's behoof,
The thirst of fame his warrant:
And she her happiness can build
Though faint, compared with spear and shield,
And needlework and flowers.
Yet blest was Emma when she heard
Her Champion's praise recounted; Though brain would swim, and eyes grow dim,
And high her blushes mounted;
Or when a bold heroic lay
She warbled from full heart; Delightful blossoms for the May
Of absence! but they will not stay,
Born only to depart.
Hope wanes with her, while lustre fills
Whatever path he chooses;
As if his orb, that owns no curb,
He comes not back; an ampler space
He ranges on from place to place,
Till of his doings is no trace,
But what her fancy breeds.
His fame may spread, but in the past
The tear in answer flows;
Month falls on month with heavier weight;
In sleep she sometimes walked abroad, Deep sighs with quick words blending, Like that pale Queen whose hands are seen With fancied spots contending;
But she is innocent of blood,
The moon is not more pure
That shines aloft, while through the wood She thrids her way, the sounding Flood Her melancholy lure!
While 'mid the fern-brake sleeps the doe, And owls alone are waking,
In white arrayed, glides on the Maid,
By whom on this still night descried?
A wandering Ghost, so thinks the Knight,
As if they from the holly-tree
Green twigs would pluck, as rapidly
What means the Spectre? Why intent
Thought Eglamore, by which I swore
Here am I, and to-morrow's sun
To her I left shall prove
That bliss is ne'er so surely won,
As when a circuit has been run
So from the spot whereon he stood