Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1839.pdf/43

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From the topmost turret ringing Comes the giant bells, Till the very walls are swinging, Of the sad one’s cell— Deafened with the iron roar— Loud the fiery cannon sounding, Seem to rend the skies, While the multitude surrounding Answer with their cries. Loud as waves upon the shore, Fast the hurrying horsemen pour.

Lute and voices soft are stealing, Soft and musical; But the trumpet, proud appealing, Rises above all. Proud it welcomes England’s queen! Slow amid the crowd she rideth With a stately grace, While with queen-like art she chideth Her white courser’s pace— That no one who there had been But might tell what he had seen.

Blue her eyes are, as the morning Flashing into day; Clear as are the falcon’s, scorning Not to meet that ray. Now its light is soft the while. In her golden hair are blended Diamond and pearl; But that glittering head is bended To the favourite Earl; And the Lady of our isle Listens with a conscious smile.

Suddenly the air is gleaming With a rosy light, And thousand rockets streaming Seem like stars, when night Shakes them from her raven hair. Gloriously the golden splendour Flashes o’er the scene: Thus the lake and castle render Homage to the queen. Shouts from all the crowd declare That the Queen hath entered there.