 | Young Arthur |  |
Cross'd in his fortune, and cross'd in his love,
Young Allan he wandered to glen and to grove;
His grief, unobserv'd, to the winds to impart—
For there is a pride in the noble heart,
That, tho' with sorrow it heave and ache,
Before to another its moan 'twill make,
The burthen 'twill bear till it sicken and break.
Young Allan he wandered to glen and to grove;
His grief, unobserv'd, to the winds to impart—
For there is a pride in the noble heart,
That, tho' with sorrow it heave and ache,
Before to another its moan 'twill make,
The burthen 'twill bear till it sicken and break.
| Young Arthur | |