Louisa Stuart Costello
Louisa Stuart Costello (October 9, 1799 – April 24, 1870), author, was born in Paris, France, near the Seine River (per her death certificate).
She had no true home, but wandered place to place staying with friends and acquaintances. Her brother Dudley Costello (b. 1803 in Sussex d. 1865 from liver failure) drank himself to death after the death of his wife.
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Louisa Stuart Costello Poems
Ye elves! when spangled starlight gleams, That flit beneath the ray, Till morning darts her magic beams And pale night hies away:
Lines.—If we should ever meet again
If we should ever meet again When many tedious years are past;
His Indian Love to Diogo Alvarez
ON HIS DEPARTURE FROM BAHIA When thou stoodst amidst thy countrymen Our captive and our foe,
Lines.—I cannot sleep
I cannot sleep—my nights glide on In one unbroken thought of thee;
Lines.—When this heart is cold and still
When this heart is cold and still, And can throb for thee no more; When it wakes not to the thrill Of the harp's wild chord;
Night, on the Sea-shore
I have fled from all, and none can now My way, my wanderings see;
Song.—Oh, long enough my life has been
Oh! long enough my life has been, Since I thy love have known; I would not change the pleasing scene, And find its beauties flown.
Lines.—Oft on that latest star
Oft on that latest star of purest light, That hovers on the verge of morning gray, I gaze, and think of eyes that gleam'd as bright, As fondly linger'd, and yet pass’d away.
Anniversary of the Loss of H.M.S. Tweed
Song.—'Tis the spot where we parted
'Tis the spot where we parted— Oh! never again Can its breeze or its blossoms Awake but to pain.
Song of the Crew of Diaz
On the Discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, or Cape of Storms
Song.—Thy form was fair
Thy form was fair, thine eye was bright, Thy voice was melody;
June The high grass waves, with varied hues
Song for a German Air
Fair stream of the mountain, brightly flowing Between thy fresh margins, gay with flowers, Life's uncertain visions showing; Thus, like thy waters glide past the hours.
Comments about Louisa Stuart Costello
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Ye elves! when spangled starlight gleams,
That flit beneath the ray,
Till morning darts her magic beams
And pale night hies away:
Ye know where springs each flow'ret rare,
The sweetest seek for me:
I'll weave a chaplet rich and fair—
My father! 'tis for thee!
The flow'rs, the trees, the birds appear
To wait but on my call;
But he whose power has plac'd them here
Is dearer far than all:
My thoughts with tender pleasure rest
On each delight I see;
But all the love that swells in my breast,
My father, is for thee!