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Restormel: A Legend of Piers Gaveston, the Patriot Priest, and Other Verses
Henry Sewell Stokes
No preview available - 2008
Restormel: A Legend of Piers Gaveston, the Patriot Priest, and Other Verses ...
Henry Sewell Stokes
No preview available - 2018
ages arms Author bear bird blood bound bower breath bright Castle cell chambers clear clouds Cornwall course dark death deep Enrico face fair faith fall feel feet field friends Gascon Gaveston give grace hall hand hath hear heard heart Heaven hill hope horse hour Italian Italy Keep kind King Ladies lance land leave less light lips lived look look'd lost mind morn move never night o'er once pass PATRIOT Perhaps Poems priest proved reach rest Restormel rhyme rocks rose round Saint sing smile song soon soul sound star steed steps stood strain strong sweet tears tell thou thought tones took town true turn Twas verse voice wall wide wild wind
Page 203 - I had), and been counted happy to be born in such a place of philosophic freedom, as they supposed England was, while themselves did nothing but bemoan the servile condition into which learning amongst them was brought ; that this was it which had damped the glory of Italian wits ; that nothing had been there written now these many years but flattery and fustian.
Page 73 - ... great halls and litle meat, large chymnies and litle smoak. This ruyned Oven layeth open her entrayles that men may yet see the bountye of pristine ages. The whole castle beginneth to mourne, and to wringe out harde stones for teares, that she that was...
Page 164 - JUSTUM et tenacem propositi virum Non civium ardor prava jubentium, Non vultus instantis tyranni Mente quatit solida, neque Auster, Dux inquieti turbidus Adriae, 5 Nee fulminantis magna manus Jovis : Si fractus illabatur orbis, * Impavidum ferient ruinae.
Page 71 - This chapel is but twenty-five feet six, by seventeen feet six; but 'that it might be the more commodious, there seems to have been an anti-chapel. This chapel, as Leland well observes, is a newer work than the castle itself; and I may add, that the gateway and the large windows in the rampart wall, are also more modern than the keep, for they were not made for war and safety...
Page 202 - Surrounded by congregated multitudes, I now imagine that, from the Columns of Hercules to the Indian Ocean, I behold the nations of the earth recovering that liberty which they so long had lost...
Page 2 - ... days) for building, and so strong for defence, should in time of secure peace, and under the protection of his natural princes, be wronged with those spoilings than which it could endure no greater at the hands of any foreign and deadly enemy.
Page 73 - ... forlorne showe of honor, not contentinge anie compassionate eye to behold her lingrynge decayes. Men greyue to see the dying delayes of anie brute creature, so may we mourne to see so stately a pyle so longe a fallinge ; if it be of noe vse, the carcase would make some profit ; therfore if it deserue, let her fall be noe longer delayde, els will it dropp peecemeale downe, and her now profitable reliques will then serue to litle or noe vse.
Page 160 - WAS in Ravenna Dante's daughter dwelt, Under the shadow of Saint Stephen's tower, Poor and forlorn, her name the only dower From him beside whose tomb she often knelt. Florence, repenting late, compassion felt, And thence one day a stranger came with gold, Which to the Nun, so saintly and so cold, He proffered smiling, while his heart did melt. No other than Boccaccio brought the gift, Who as a son revered and loved her sire ; And when she did her hood all meekly lift To render grateful answer and...
Page 3 - O'er Mawgan flames his golden crest, Boughtor's dark brow is helm'd with fire, And the bluff headlands of Pentire Like shields emboss'd with silver glow. Glistening and murmuring as they flow, Camel and Fowey * seek different shores ; And North and South the eye explores Two spreading seas of purple sheen, That blend with Heaven's own depths serene.
Page 4 - Where tapers gleamed at close of day The sunset sheds its transient ray, And carols the belated bird Where once the vesper hymn was heard. Slowly the sylvan mount I climb, Like bard who- toils at some tall rhyme ; And now I reach the moat's broad marge, And at each pace more fair and large The antique pile grows...