And many an ermin'd cap and jewell'd ring,
And the blue plumage of the Heron's wing,
And milk-white hinds, the fairest creatures seen,
Tripping with snowy feet across the alleys green.
Bright was the bower, a silver colonnade
Spread its sun-chequer'd floor, where light and shade
Alternate with the varying zephyr play'd.
Young lips were trembling with sweet whispers there:
"Lady, I could have lov'd thee, though less fair."
How soft the breath of that consenting sigh!
How bright the glances of that falcon eye!
The look, the smile — a hermit's heart 'twould cheer:
When beauty speaks — who can refuse to hear?
Then vows were made; "Witness ye stars that shine!"
And — "Nay, sir Knight:" and "gentle mayflower mine!"
While chess and tables wile the hours away,
With many a song between, and lusty roundelay.
But hark! a cry! — 'to horse — no time afford,
Grasp thou the lance, and gird thou on the sword!
The foe's at hand — a field of blood to-day —
Each to the rescue, fly — away, away!'
Chang'd is the scene — down yon sequester'd vale
The chaunt comes floating from the cloisters pale.
Psalter in hand, the long procession moves,
Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/44
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xxviii
DEDICATORY EPISTLE.