-
Oscar Of Alva – A Fallen Hero?
And when that gale is fierce and high A sound is heard in yonder hall It rises hoarsely through the sky And vibrates o’er the mould’ring wall. Yes, when the eddying tempest sighs, It shakes the shield of Oscar brave But there no more his banners rise, No more his plumes of sable wave.
-
Oscar Of Alva – Origins
Faded is Alva’s noble race, And gray her towers are seen afar No more her heroes urge the chase, Or roll the crimson tide of war. But who was last of Alva’s clan? Why grows moss on Alva’s stone? Her towers resound no steps of man, They echo to the gale alone.
-
Line To A Lady Weeping
WEEP, daughter of a royal line, A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s decay Ah! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father’s fault away! Weep – for thy tears are Virtue’s tears – Auspicious to these suffering isles And be each drop in future years Repaid thee by thy people’s smiles! Lord Byron
-
Rubaiyat #24
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare And those that after a TO-MORROW stare A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries “Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!”
-
Rubaiyat #23
Ah make the most of what we yet may spend Before we too into the Dust descend Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie Sans Wine, sans Songs, sans Singer and – sand End!
-
Rubaiyat #22
And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom Ourselves must we beneath the Couch Of Earth Descend, ourselves to make a Couch – for whom?
-
Rubaiyat #21
Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best That time and Fate of all their Vintage prest, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to Rest.
-
Oscar Of Alva – P3
Once to those eyes the Lamp of Love, They blessed her dear propitious light But now she glimmer’d from above A sad, funeral torch of night.
-
Oscar Of Alva – P2
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 grasping warrior low While many an eye which ne’er again, Could mark the rising orb of the day, Turn’d feebly from the gory plain Beheld in death her fading ray.
-
Oscar Of Alva – P1
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! 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
THE NECROMANCER 