BELVOIR CASTLE,—SEAT OF THE DUKE OF RUTLAND.
INSCRIBED TO
LADY EMMELINE STUART WORTLEY.
is an old and stately castle,
In an old and stately wood;
Thoughts and shadows gathered round it,
Of the ages it had stood.
But not of the ancient warriors,
Whose red banners swept its towers,
Nor of any lovely lady,
Blooming in its former bowers—
Think I now;—but one as lovely,
And more gifted, haunts my line.
In the visions round yon castle
Is no fairer one than thine!
I can fancy thee in childhood
Wandering through each haunted scene,
Peopling the green glades around thee
With the thoughts of what had been:
Asking of each leaf its lesson,
Of each midnight star its tale,
Till thy fancy caught revealings
From the music of the gale.
Yet, whence did thy lute inherit
All it knows of human grief?—
What dost thou know of the knowledge
On life’s dark and daily leaf?
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