ORIGINAL POETRY.
LADY ETHEL. The halls of Orlando resounded with song, Each heart is made ir erry and joyous each tongue ; Oh welcome, right welcome ! the cry rends the i air, For the bride of Orlando, sweet Ethel the fair. While brilliantly beaming the golden sun shines O'er the lofty grey turrets and tall waving pines. Onward she passes with proud, graceful mien Her waving hair bright as the sun's golden beam, Sweetly she smiles o'er each lowly bowed head, Soft is her dark eye and bouyant her tread. Ah ! soon shall they hark for thy footfall in vain, And their hearts will be bowed in deep anguish and pain. The trumpets are sounded in castle and hall, Bright bayonets flash and strong warriors tall Brace on their stout armour, and manfully go To crush the oppressor and battle the foe. With a last long adieu, they each turn to depart, And leave sorrowing sadly some fond loving heart. Sparkling eyes flashing with beautiful pride, Her golden hair streaming, Orlando's fair bride Sees her lord ride away at the head of his band, To conquer or dia in a far-away land. The glimpse of that winning smile, hopefully bright, Cheers the heart of those valiant men on to the fight. The sun was declining o'er mountain and plain, When a herald proclaimed that the foe were all slain ; Soon Orlando- with joy by his lady will stand, Returning in pride with his trußty brave band, Eeturning with bosom both happy and light, And honor and glory hard won in the fight. Wow saddle my white steed, cries Ethel the bride, By my side a few strong trusty vassals shall ride ; No more for thy chief shall my heart ache with fear, We'l away for to meet and to welcome him here. Lightly she lept on her snowy white steed. And on in the grey misty twilight they speed. Now hark to the tramping in yon leafy dell, 'Tis your chief, spur your horses, and welcome him well. A'cry of wild terror broke loud on her ear — Fly quickly fair lady our foemen are near ; They are here, are ut>on us, we stand for our •life, And our brave chieftain's gentle and beautiful wife. Orlando the chief and his warriors strong, With clashing of armour, and bugle, and song, Speed on their long way till they reach the dark glade Where the gloomy pines mournfully wave in the shade. With a wild cry they halt, and each eye drops a . tear, And their brave hearts beat wildly with terror and fear. Vainly Orlando calls on his young bride 5 Wildly he weeps by her cold lifeless side. He stands on the earth that is red with the stain Of the blood of his loved ones all murdered and slain. Deep woe sets her seal on his haughty white brow. His visions of glory, Oh ! where are they now ? Elza.
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Southland Times, Issue 925, 30 March 1868, Page 3
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488ORIGINAL POETRY. Southland Times, Issue 925, 30 March 1868, Page 3
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