I. OH! lady, think not that my heart has grown cold, If I woo not as once I could woo; Though sorrow has bruised it, and long years have rolled, It still doats on beauty and you; And were I to yield to its inmost desire I would labour by night and by day, Till I won you to flee from the home of your sire, To live with your love far away. II. But it is that my country's in bondage, and I Have sworn to shatter her chains! By my duty and oath I must do it or lie A corse on her desolate plains: Then, sure, dearest maiden, 'twere sinful to sue. And crueller far to win, But, should victory smile on my banner, to you I shall fly without sorrow or sin | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: OVER THE MACKINAC by KAREN SWENSON LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT by HELEN SELINA SHERIDAN TOLEDO CAPTURED BY THE FRANKS by AL-ASSAL TO BARON DE STONNE WITH AIKIN'S ESSAYS ON SONG-WRITING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD HON. MR. SUCKLETHUMBKIN'S STORY: THE EXECUTION; A SPORTING ANECDOTE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM BLESSINGS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER ANTHEM FOR THE CHILDREN OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |