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THE MINSTREL OF PORTUGAL.
And melt within his heart!....
From that time life was one impassioned dream:
He lingered on the spot which she had made
So sacred by her presence, and he thought
It happiness to only breathe the air
Her sigh had perfumed—but to press the floor
Her faëry step had hallowed. He renounced
All projects of ambition, joyed no more
In pleasures of his age, but like a ghost,
Confined to one peculiar spot, he strayed
Where first he saw the Princess; and the court
Through which she pass'd to matins, now became
To him a home; and either he recalled
Fondly her every look, or else embalmed
Her name in wild sweet song.....
His love grew blazed abroad—a poet's love
