Oscar Of Alva [1]
1.
How sweetly shines, through azure skies,
The lamp of Heaven on Lora's shore;
Where Alva's hoary turrets rise,
And hear the din of arms no more!
2.
But often has yon rolling moon,
On Alva's casques of silver play'd;
And view'd, at midnight's silent noon,
Her chiefs in gleaming mail array'd:
3.
And, on the crimson'd rocks beneath,
Which scowl o'er ocean's sullen flow,
Pale in the scatter'd ranks of death,
She saw the gasping warrior low; [i]
4.
While many an eye, which ne'er again [ii]
Could mark the rising orb of day,
Turn'd feebly from the gory plain,
Beheld in death her fading ray.
5.
1.
How sweetly shines, through azure skies,
The lamp of Heaven on Lora's shore;
Where Alva's hoary turrets rise,
And hear the din of arms no more!
2.
But often has yon rolling moon,
On Alva's casques of silver play'd;
And view'd, at midnight's silent noon,
Her chiefs in gleaming mail array'd:
3.
And, on the crimson'd rocks beneath,
Which scowl o'er ocean's sullen flow,
Pale in the scatter'd ranks of death,
She saw the gasping warrior low; [i]
4.
While many an eye, which ne'er again [ii]
Could mark the rising orb of day,
Turn'd feebly from the gory plain,
Beheld in death her fading ray.
5.
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