 | Young Arthur |  |
THE MINSTREL'S WARNING.
Where is the faith of honour fled?
Where has love made a lowly bed?
Where triumph spread for peace the toil,
And fed and fatten'd on the spoil.
Where has love made a lowly bed?
Where triumph spread for peace the toil,
And fed and fatten'd on the spoil.
Where grew the lily of the vale?
Where now the nightshade taints the gale;
Where was the rose of beauty born?
Where now all's blasted but the thorn.
Where now the nightshade taints the gale;
Where was the rose of beauty born?
Where now all's blasted but the thorn.
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Where is the vow deceit has sworn?
To heaven on sweeping whirlwinds borne;
To heaven 'tis borne, recorded there,
Dread to the traitor, and despair!
To heaven on sweeping whirlwinds borne;
To heaven 'tis borne, recorded there,
Dread to the traitor, and despair!
The sun of innocence shone bright!
'Tis where? for ever set in night,
And yet the blasting cloud rides high
Which veil'd that sun in honour's sky.
'Tis where? for ever set in night,
And yet the blasting cloud rides high
Which veil'd that sun in honour's sky.
“Where is the lamb the poor man rear'd,
Which in his bosom lay?
Alas, the rich man, stern and sear'd,
Has torn that lamb away!”
Which in his bosom lay?
Alas, the rich man, stern and sear'd,
Has torn that lamb away!”
And thou, proud knight, who, bent on me,
My purpose seem'st to scan,
Thine shall the prophet's answer be—
“Thou art, thou art the man!”
My purpose seem'st to scan,
Thine shall the prophet's answer be—
“Thou art, thou art the man!”
| Young Arthur | |