Page:Forget Me Not (1826).djvu/28
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ALICE.
To the gay hay-field; hast not heard my voice—
Not though that voice called Alice.
Not though that voice called Alice.
Alice.Not heard thee!
Mother, not thee!—Oh, fie upon thy charm,
Sweet poesy!—Not hear thy voice!
Mother, not thee!—Oh, fie upon thy charm,
Sweet poesy!—Not hear thy voice!
Henry.What lay
Hath such entrancing power?
[She gives him the book.
The Faerie Queene!
Oh, gentle poet of the summer sky,
The fresh air, the green earth! how suited thou
To this wild pastoral scene, and this young hand
Trembling with modesty!
Hath such entrancing power?
[She gives him the book.
The Faerie Queene!
Oh, gentle poet of the summer sky,
The fresh air, the green earth! how suited thou
To this wild pastoral scene, and this young hand
Trembling with modesty!
Mrs. Neville.She'll hang all day
Over that tale of Una.
Over that tale of Una.
Henry.But this shower
Of snowy rose-leaves—sure it was her mark!—
Dropt from that tenderest page, where Britomart,
Pining for love, heartsick, and desolate,
Is by her old nurse comforted and cheered,
And hushed to sleep like an o'erweary babe.
Euripides himself, in the fam'd scene
Of Phædra—no, nor Shakspeare, when he melts
The very soul with Juliet's tender woe—
Touched not more truly the witch-notes of love,
Than that old simpleness.
Of snowy rose-leaves—sure it was her mark!—
Dropt from that tenderest page, where Britomart,
Pining for love, heartsick, and desolate,
Is by her old nurse comforted and cheered,
And hushed to sleep like an o'erweary babe.
Euripides himself, in the fam'd scene
Of Phædra—no, nor Shakspeare, when he melts
The very soul with Juliet's tender woe—
Touched not more truly the witch-notes of love,
Than that old simpleness.
Mrs. Neville.Yet Britomart—
Alice, it was a silly maid that loved
A picture.
Alice, it was a silly maid that loved
A picture.
Alice.Mother, no! Oh, no! She loved