Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 25 1829.pdf/9



Oh! 'tis the heart that magnifies this life, Making a truth and beauty of its own."—

dower of storied song is thine, O desolate abode! Forth from thy gates no glittering line Of lance and spear hath flow'd: Banners of Knighthood have not flung Proud drapery o'er thy walls, Nor bugle-notes to battle rung Through thy resounding halls.

Nor have rich bowers of Pleasaunce here By courtly hands been dress'd, For princes, from the chase of deer, Under green leaves to rest: Only some rose, yet lingering bright Beside thy casements lone, Tells where the Spirit of Delight Hath dwelt, and now is gone.

Yet minstrel-tale of harp and sword, And sovereign Beauty's lot, House of quench'd light and silent board! For me thou needest not. It is enough to know that here, Where thoughtfully I stand, Sorrow and Love, and Hope and Fear, Have link'd one kindred band.

Thou bindest me with mighty spells! —A solemnizing breath, A presence all around thee dwells Of human life and death. I need but pluck yon garden-flower From where the wild weeds rise, To wake, with strange and sudden power, A thousand sympathies!