Because their marble fountsGush'd with more pride than do a wretch's tears?--Why were they proud? It made sad Isabella's eyelids ache,         To make old prose in modern rhyme more sweet: IX. Upon the skirts of human-nature dwelling         Unknown, Lethean, sigh to us—O sigh!         His bitter thoughts to other, well nigh mad         And Isabella on its music hung: XXVI.         Which saves a sick man from the feather'd pall "O Isabella, I can half perceive         The inward fragrance of each other's heart. And make a pale light in your cypress glooms, So once more he had wak'd and anguished         And so she kneeled, with her locks all hoar, LXI. And as he went she chanted merrily. Spirits in grief, lift up your heads, and smile; Therefore they watch'd a time when they might, And when she left, she hurried back, as swift, And, patient, as a hen-bird, sat her there.         And 'scape at once from Hope's accursed bands; Why were they proud? Excellent teaching as well as revision resource, particularly for students aiming for top band! When Isabella by Lorenzo knelt. From his lorn voice, and past his loamed ears care for his most critically neglected long romance, Isabella; or, The Pot of Basil ( 1818), calling the poem "mawkish," "weak-sided," with "an amusing sober-sadness about it." Those dainties made to still an infant's cries: Then 'gan she work again; nor stay'd her care, And all around each eye's sepulchral cell, She drench'd away:—and still she comb'd, and kept, Then in a silken scarf,—sweet with the dews, And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun. And constant as her vespers would he watch, Each richer by his being a murderer. Sick and wanThe brothers' faces in the ford did seem,Lorenzo's flush with love.--They pass'd the waterInto a forest quiet for the slaughter.XXVIII.There was Lorenzo slain and buried in,There in that forest did his great love cease;Ah! XLI. And at the least 'twill startle off her cares." And glossy bees at noon do fieldward pass, Blog. When the brothers learn of this they murder Lorenzo and bury his body.         Whose matter in bright gold were best be read; To some high noble and his olive-trees. And so left Florence in a moment's space. Spirits in grief, lift up your heads, and smile; And so she ever fed it with thin tears, Then in a silken scarf,—sweet with the dews Though I forget the taste of earthly bliss, 17th May 2018 by Aimee Wright This poem is a detailed description of immigration to the UK and the subsequent fusing of multiple identities and ethnicities. Lorenzo had ta'en ship for foreign lands.         To see scull, coffin'd bones, and funeral stole; Ah! Strange sound it was, when the pale shadow spake;         That I may speak my grief into thine ear;         To make the youngster for his crime atone;         Upon his lips, and taken the soft lute With every morn their love grew tenderer, Had made a miry channel for his tears.         For there was striving, in its piteous tongue, O Music, Music, breathe despondingly! How she might find the clay, so dearly prized, "—dissolv'd, and left Because red-lin'd accountsWere richer than the songs of Grecian years?--Why were they proud? So sweet IsabelBy gradual decay from beauty fell,XXXIII.Because Lorenzo came not. And many a jealous conference had they, It explores the traditional theme of star-crossed lovers. Too many tears for lovers have been shed. This is the opposite of ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ as their love happens only over less than a day. Other dream, and nightly weep heart, some malady ; they could not, sure, beneath same. 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