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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447564" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Legend Of Tintagel Castle</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ALONE in the forest, Sir Lancelot rode <br>O'er the neck of his courser the reins lightly flowed<br>And beside hung his helmet, for bare was his brow<br>To meet the soft breeze that was fanning him now.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And 'the flowers of the forest' were many and sweet,<br>Which, crushed at each step by his proud courser's feet,<br>Gave forth all their fragrance, while thick over-head<br>The boughs of the oak and the elm-tree were spread.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wind stirred its branches, as if its low suit<br>Were urged, like a lover who wakens the lute,<br>And through the dark foliage came sparkling and bright<br>Like rain from the green leaves, in small gems of light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was stillness, not silence, for dancing along,<br>A brook went its way like a child with a song;<br>Now hidden, where rushes and water-flags grow;<br>Now clear, while white pebbles were glistening below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo, bright as a vision, and fair as a dream,<br>The face of a maiden is seen in the stream;<br>With her hair like a mantle of gold to her knee,<br>Stands a lady as lovely as lady can be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Short speech tells a love-tale;—the bard's sweetest words<br>Are poor, beside those which each memory hoards;<br>Sound of some gentle whisper, the haunting and low,<br>Such as love may have murmured—ah, long, long ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She led him away to an odorous cave,<br>Where the emerald spars shone like stars in the wave,<br>And the green moss and violets crowded beneath,<br>And the ash at the entrance hung down like a wreath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They might have been happy, if love could but learn<br>A lesson from some flowers, and like their leaves turn<br>Round their own inward world, their own lone fragrant nest,<br>Content with its sweetness, content with its rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the sound of the trumpet was heard from afar,<br>And Sir Lancelot rode forth again to the war;<br>And the wood-nymph was left as aye woman will be,<br>Who trusts her whole being, oh, false love, to thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For months, every sunbeam that brightened the gloom,<br>She deemed was the waving of Lancelot's plume;<br>She knew not of the proud and the beautiful queen,<br>Whose image was treasured as hers once had been.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was many a fair dame, and many a knight,<br>Made the banks of the river like fairy-land bright;<br>And among those whose shadow was cast on the tide,<br>Was Lancelot kneeling at Genevra's side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With purple sails heavily drooping around<br>The mast, and the prow, with the vale lily bound;<br>And towed by two swans, a small vessel drew near<br>But high on the deck was a pall-covered bier.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They oared with their white wings, the bark thro' the flood,<br>Till arrived at the bank where Sir Lancelot stood:<br>A wind swept the river, and flung back the pall,<br>And there lay a lady, the fairest of all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But pale as a statue, like sunshine on snow,<br>The bright hair seemed mocking the cold face below:<br>Sweet truants, the blush and the smile both are fled—<br>Sir Lancelot weeps as he kneels by the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And these are love's records; a vow and a dream,<br>And the sweet shadow passes away from life's stream:<br>Too late we awake to regret—but what tears<br>Can bring back the waste to our hearts and our years?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Letitia+Elizabeth+Landon">Letitia Elizabeth Landon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447564" data-title="A Legend Of Tintagel Castle de Letitia Elizabeth Landon" data-description="ALONE in the forest, Sir Lancelot rode 
O'er the neck of his courser the reins lightly flowed
And beside hung his helmet, for bare was his brow
To meet the soft breeze that was fanning him now.

And 'the flowers of the forest' were many and sweet,..."></div>
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