For eleven long years there was Sir Buris confin’d, Each day to her grave went the knight lame and blind.

p. 33Each day that he lived of the King did he crave That beside her when dead they might lay him in grave.

p. 33

To the King he was forced to give land and domain, Ere to rest in the cloister the boon he could gain.

He expired just as the twelfth year was begun— The King never smiled Queen Sophia upon.

p. 34MIRROR OF CINTRA

p. 34

Translated from the original Portuguese on a marble slab in the garden of Don Juan De Castro, at Cintra.

Tiny fields in charming order, Which the jagged forests border; Sheltered valleys downward wending, ’Midst the rocks to heaven ascending; Silvery fountains turbid never, Foliage dense which bloometh ever; Ceaseless Zephyrs gently playing, Satyrs, fawns by thousands straying; Nymphs, with fair bewitching faces, Form of Cintra’s clime the graces.

1840.

p. 35THE HARP

p. 35

From Garonwy Owen

The harp to every one is dear Who hateth vice, and all things evil; Hail to its gentle voice so clear, Its gentle voice affrights the Devil!

The Devil can not the Minstrel quell—  He by the Minstrel is confounded; From Saul was cast the spirit fell, When David’s harp melodious sounded.

* * * * *

p. 36London: Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W. Edition limited to Thirty Copies.

p. 36

London

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