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THE POET-LOVER.
"I've caught the rose's changeful dye,
I've found where meek-eyed violets lie,
Remembrances of cheek and eye,
Nought else resembles, love of mine!
Yet, Blanche! the wild wave's voice tome,
Is a remembrancer of thee,
Full of the heart's own minstrelsy,
It speaks in music, only thine.
I've found where meek-eyed violets lie,
Remembrances of cheek and eye,
Nought else resembles, love of mine!
Yet, Blanche! the wild wave's voice tome,
Is a remembrancer of thee,
Full of the heart's own minstrelsy,
It speaks in music, only thine.
I cannot sing as I have sung,
Of life's gay cavaliers among,
Where banner waved and bugle rung.
When gallant Hotspur took the field—
Breathed life into the cause he framed,
The hand of valiant Douglas claimed,
Invoked one 'Esperance,' and named
His own brave heart his only shield.
Of life's gay cavaliers among,
Where banner waved and bugle rung.
When gallant Hotspur took the field—
Breathed life into the cause he framed,
The hand of valiant Douglas claimed,
Invoked one 'Esperance,' and named
His own brave heart his only shield.
"Ah, me! the venerated lays,
That tell of old, heroic days,
When Wallace bound the mingled bays,
Of death and glory round his brow!
I did not think another strain,
Could ever cause them call in vain;
Or drive from this enchanted brain,
The sounds that haunted it till now!
That tell of old, heroic days,
When Wallace bound the mingled bays,
Of death and glory round his brow!
I did not think another strain,
Could ever cause them call in vain;
Or drive from this enchanted brain,
The sounds that haunted it till now!
"The shouts of wild exciting war,
The blaze of crimson glory's star,
And of the proud, triumphal car,
Borne in the front of victory—
The blaze of crimson glory's star,
And of the proud, triumphal car,
Borne in the front of victory—
