Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1873-02-11

ait. Now, for few moments, the parted
lovers are cnviably happy as they read
those glowing words-such words rs
only impassioned love can write.
Elizabeth wrote only in verse to her
lover, and between the leaves oil her
learned books that lay like the fresh,
blooming lowers. But the young lovers
were soon deprived of even this happi'
ness The promptings of her own heart
and the advice of those around her, in
cited the queen to new cruelty. Eliza
b.th was sent to Woodstock md Edward
Cour,enay was banishcd from the coun-
try. II is said that the queen secretly
gave her handsome cousin his choice be-
tween nh inhospilable foreign land and
The royal throne; but that he, true to the
one love of his heart, chose banishment.
He sent back Elizabeth's poems with
tendcrest cntreaties that If the time ever
came when. through the aid of their true
adhercnts, they could triumph over the
common enemy. they should be returned
to him through confidential messenger
without word-a silent token that she
summoned him home.
+ Immediately alter her cousins depart
urc, Mary married Philip of Spain. Ed
ward Courtcnay went away full of hope,
confident that Mary's reign, so unpepu-
+ llr with the people, would be but short,
that love and justice would speedily tri-
uuph. Alas, he hoped in vain
The people forgot the exile as they had
before forgotten the prisoner in the
Towcr-cycn his letters to Elizabeth re.
naincd unanswered But wherever his
noble face and handsome form appeared,
all tel, Tor him the livclest sympathy,
and womcnS hearts he took by storm.
/ Slill hc remained homeSick and restless.
The unhappy dreamer wandered on
until he nj last found refuge in Padua.
The .omhrc character Of tho city accord
cd with his melancholy, and pious monks
received him rs guest into their cloistcr.
There. for hours long. he would sit at 4
window gazing ont into The quic, cloister
emdcn. or listening dreamiy TO the
water or The fountain. as it fell ripping
inio the broad. marble basin; or he
would lcau hi weary forehead against
the trailing vines of the perennial white
roses. inhaling their fragrance, which
brought to him thousand sweet dreams
and rrmcmbrances.
And SO. day after day, he waited for
the message from home. Noiseless foot
steps niucd past him, lootsteps oI the
monks. grave, cArncs, men with thought
m rorchcads aud eyes that spoke OF
peace. With tender sympathy they
gazcd into that young, gentle face, that
bore traces of such heavy conflicts, and
wild. passionate longiugs.
Onc day, ~ messenger from England
demanded secret audience ol Edward
I Courlcnay and handed him = little cas-
kct with golden key. The casket con
tanned nothing but the secret poems oI
/ Elizabeth and wilhercd white rose
which turned to dust at tho touch of hcl
lovers trembling hand. There was nc
olhci message word. The mes
,cnger knew not who had sent the cas-
kcl. and he returned literally rewarded
In deepest emotion. Edward Courlcnay
pressed the written leaves to his lips:
strange, intoxicating perfume stole iron
them. His senses wayugcd. but ~ soor
as he came TO himself, with glowing
check, and sparkling eyes, he rushed tC
his serious friends. 81 must return
home at once" he said, hastily: "my
b,idc calls me-rejoicc wilb me, for
shall be happy"
ScMcc had he spoken these word4
" hen lac tell "a swoon. Mild ievei
phautsslcs followed, and The next morn
iag The pious monks wept and prayed by
The corpse OF him they had loved SO well
Tor three days. the beautiful dead isy il
state, covered with While roses and, q!
they ba,u him 10 his grave in the Churcl
OF ~. Antonius, women and children
slrcwod white roses all along the ways
that it almost seemed Is ii tho sUow haC
fallen. Roses followed him into the darl
vain, and the mysterious casket was
laid in his coffin.
\ report that Edward Courtenay ha(
been poisoned. spread throughout Italy
and reached England. The messenger
WAS never seen OF heard from again
And 80 ended the handsome cousin o
two mighty queens.
Elizabeth, when queen, became the
bounlilul patroncsS OF poets; but thE
poem in the Tower was her last. She
never wrote I. Stanza ailorward. In heE
heart she bore lifelong sorrow for hin
who had been taken from her in so terri
bic and mysterious way.
One morning, to her horror, she had
missed the precious caskct. and all seaIcl
for it proved unayailipg, Whether she
alerward had her suspicious that its dis
appearance had anything 10 do with the
death OF her lover. no one knows. II is
certain, however, that her only verse:
and her only love sleep in that coffin al
Padua which encloscs the dust of him
who was once called THE White Rose
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