STILL think I of the magic fair one, How on her first my glances fell! How her dear tones resounded sweetly, How they my heart enthrall'd completely, How down my cheeks the tears coursed fleetly But how it chanced, I could not tell. There over me had crept a vision: Methought I was again a child, And in my mother's chamber sitting In silence, by the lamp-light flitting, And reading fairy tales befitting, Whilst outside roar'd the tempest wild. The tales began with life to glimmer, The knights arise from out the grave; By Roncesvall the battle rages, Sir Roland in the fight engages, And with him many a valiant page is, -- And also Ganelon, the knave. By him is Roland ill entreated, He swims in blood, fast ebbs his breath; Scarce can his horn, at such far distance, Call Charlemagne to his assistance: So passed away the knight's existence, And, with him, sank my dream in death. It was a loud confused echo That from my vision wakened me. The legend that she sang was ended, The people heartily commended, And ofttimes shouted: "Bravo! splendid!" Low bow'd the singer gracefully. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DANTE by VITTORIO AMEDEO ALFIERI SONG: WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A' by JOANNA BAILLIE A SMILE AS SMALL AS MINE by EMILY DICKINSON HYMN: 32. THE NATIVITY OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST by CHRISTOPHER SMART THE PREACHER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |