File:Warwick castle and its earls - from Saxon times to the present day (1903) (14595934588).jpg

Identifier: cu31924050615214 (find matches)
Title: Warwick castle and its earls : from Saxon times to the present day
Year: 1903 (1900s)
Authors: Warwick, Frances Evelyn Maynard Greville, Countess of, 1861-1938
Subjects: Warwick castle
Publisher: New York : E.P. Dutton London, Hutchinson
Contributing Library: Cornell University Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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e Kenilworth festivitieshad ever happened in the land before. If theEarl of Leicester vias not a great man, he was at leasta great Master of the Ceremonies. Elegance andpomp and pageantry were things that he understood.His organisation and direction of them amounted vary-nearly to genius. The theatres of his period couldhave taught him little, and could have learnt muchfrom him. He knew how to use all the arts simul-taneously for the purpose of spectacular display. Letus try to reconstruct the spectacle from the records ofthose who witnessed it. It began when her Majesty drove up in state ateight of the clock on a July evening from LongItchington, where she had dined. In the Park.says Laneham, about a flight-shoot from the braysand first gate of the Castle, one of the ten Sibyls, thatwe read were all Fatidicae and Theobula;, as partiesand privy to the Gods gracious good wills, comelyclad in a pall of white silk, pronounced a proper poesyin English rhyme and metre. It was an ode of 342
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Warwick Castle «- welcome, written by M. Hunnis, Master of herMajestys Chapel. The Queen accepted the address benignly, andpassed on. As she approached the great gate, therewas a loud blast of trumpets, and then the porterappeared. He made a gesture as though he wouldbar the entrance, and then at last, being overcomeby view of the rare beauty and princely countenanceof her Majesty, yielded himself and his charge,presenting the keys unto her Highness with thesewords :—• What stir, what coil is here? Come back, hold, whither now? Not one so stout to stir. What harrying have we here? My friends, a porter I, no poper here am placd : By leave perhaps, else not while club and limbs do last. A garboil this indeed. What, yea, fair Dames? what, yea, What dainty darlings here ? O God, a peerless pearl; No worldly wight no doubt, some sovereign Goddess sure: Even face, even hand, even eye, even other features all, Yea beauty, grace, and cheer, yea port and majesty. Shew all some heavenly Pe

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