Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1839/Queen Elizabeth's Entrance into Kenilworth
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Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth Castle.
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QUEEN ELIZABETH’S ENTRANCE INTO KENILWORTH.
Lonely sits the lovely lady,
Lonely in the tower;
Is the dell no longer shady
Where she was the flower?
Wherefore did she leave that dell?
There she knew no ruder sorrow
Than some childish toy,
Vanished whensoe’er to-morrow
Brought some newer joy.
Captive in a captive cell,
She hath bade her youth farewell.
While the lovely lady keepeth
Vigil sad and lone,
Asking every hour that creepeth
When will night be done,
Watching makes the hours seem long.
Mocking at the mourner’s sadness,
Rises from below
Every sound of feast and gladness
That the night can know.
What avails those sounds among—
One low sigh is borne along.
From the topmost turret ringing
Comes the giant bells,
Till the very walls are swinging,
Of the sad one’s cell—
Deafened with the iron roar—
Loud the fiery cannon sounding,
Seem to rend the skies,
While the multitude surrounding
Answer with their cries.
Loud as waves upon the shore,
Fast the hurrying horsemen pour.
Lute and voices soft are stealing,
Soft and musical;
But the trumpet, proud appealing,
Rises above all.
Proud it welcomes England’s queen!
Slow amid the crowd she rideth
With a stately grace,
While with queen-like art she chideth
Her white courser’s pace—
That no one who there had been
But might tell what he had seen.
Blue her eyes are, as the morning
Flashing into day;
Clear as are the falcon’s, scorning
Not to meet that ray.
Now its light is soft the while.
In her golden hair are blended
Diamond and pearl;
But that glittering head is bended
To the favourite Earl;
And the Lady of our isle
Listens with a conscious smile.
Suddenly the air is gleaming
With a rosy light,
And thousand rockets streaming
Seem like stars, when night
Shakes them from her raven hair.
Gloriously the golden splendour
Flashes o’er the scene:
Thus the lake and castle render
Homage to the queen.
Shouts from all the crowd declare
That the Queen hath entered there.
At the royal rein attending
Does Lord Leicester ride,
To the mane his dark locks bending,
As he keeps her side—
And his voice is soft and low.
Proud he welcomes in his sovereign,
Proud he paceth by,
Yet there was some trouble hovering
O’er his large dark eye.
Mockery of life’s fairest show,
Who can read the heart below?
Where is she, the sorrow-laden,
In this glorious hour?—
Lonely sits the lonely maiden,
In the haunted tower.
Sadly is it haunted now
By the thoughts that memory bringeth
Most are wanted not;
Wearily her hands she wringeth
O’er her weary lot—
While her golden tresses flow
Loose o’er her neglected brow.
Pale the pitying moonlight gleaming
Shows her pale sweet face,
While the bright hair round her streaming,
Loses not its grace,
Though so carelessly arrayed.
On her hand her white brow stooping,
Leaneth she alone;
With a weary spirit drooping
Over days now gone—
Days ere love the heart betrayed
Thus to solitude and shade.
Ever thus does woman's spirit
Choose the dangerous part;
Still the worst she doth inherit
Of the beating heart—
Much must it abide.
Scarcely hath she left her childhood,
She who leans above,
Pining for her native wild wood,
For her father’s love.
Better far that she had died
Than another love have tried.
One brief, feverish sleep she taketh
From the night’s long pain;
But the cruel morning breaketh,
And she wakes again.
Music is upon the air—
Cheerily the horns are ringing
Round the captive’s keep;
And the early lark is singing
While her sad eyes weep.
Every sound the wild winds bear
Only bring doubt—death—despair.
"Kenilworth Castle is one of the most magnificent piles of ruin in England. In the reign of the first Henry, it was private property, but its owner taking an unsuccessful part in the civil wars, it fell to the crown, and remained so till the time of Elizabeth, who bestowed it on her favourite Leicester. On the 9th of July, 1575, a banquet was given to Elizabeth, by its ambitious lord, which Langham, an officer of the Queen’s household, who was present at the time, has described minutely: ‘The queen approaching the first gate, a man of tall person, and stern countenance, with a club and keys, accosted her majesty in a rough speech, full of passion, in metre aptly made for the purpose—demanding the cause of all this din and noise, and riding about within the charge of his office. But on seeing the queen, as if pierced at the presence of a personage so evidently expressing heroical sovereignty, he fell down on his knees, humbly prays pardon for his ignorance, yields up his club and keys, proclaims open gates, and free passage to all:’—immediately the trumpeters on the gate-tower, six in number, each an eight foot high, with their silvery trumpets of a five foot long, sounded up a tune of welcome."—Vide Langham’s Account of the Festivities at Kenilworth.