 | Poems on various subjects |  |
177
SONG XXI. KATE.
‘Stranger, if gentle pity swells thy breast,
‘Let Kate thy pity move—ah! well-a-day!
‘And turn not from a wand'rer sore opprest,
‘Sighing for her love, slain far away.’
‘Let Kate thy pity move—ah! well-a-day!
‘And turn not from a wand'rer sore opprest,
‘Sighing for her love, slain far away.’
‘Who was thy love, O fair but hapless maid,
‘For whom I see thee weep?—ah! well-a-day!
‘And why at eve mourn'st thou in this cold shade,
‘For him who sound doth sleep far, far away?’
‘For whom I see thee weep?—ah! well-a-day!
‘And why at eve mourn'st thou in this cold shade,
‘For him who sound doth sleep far, far away?’
‘Around yon cottage long young Henry toil'd;
‘I heard his vows of truth—ah! well-a-day!
‘Around yon cottage Peace and Pleasure smil'd,
‘And maidens lov'd the youth, slain far away.’
‘I heard his vows of truth—ah! well-a-day!
‘Around yon cottage Peace and Pleasure smil'd,
‘And maidens lov'd the youth, slain far away.’
178
‘Let Hope, sweet maid! that cheers the path of all,
‘To thee her comfort give—ah! well-a-day!
‘Still some are doom'd to stand, tho' thousands fall,
‘And Henry yet may live, far, far away.’
‘To thee her comfort give—ah! well-a-day!
‘Still some are doom'd to stand, tho' thousands fall,
‘And Henry yet may live, far, far away.’
‘Ah, no! by war forc'd from his promis'd bride,
‘'Twas here he sigh'd adieu—ah! well-a-day!
‘And soon the tidings came, that Henry died,
‘To love and honour true, far, far away.’
‘'Twas here he sigh'd adieu—ah! well-a-day!
‘And soon the tidings came, that Henry died,
‘To love and honour true, far, far away.’
‘To love and honour true!—a friend behold!
‘Death only shall us part—ah! well-a-day!
‘For thee I fought and bled, brav'd heat and cold—
‘Still constant was this heart, tho' far away.’
‘Death only shall us part—ah! well-a-day!
‘For thee I fought and bled, brav'd heat and cold—
‘Still constant was this heart, tho' far away.’
‘Art thou my love?—it must not, cannot be!
‘My Henry once so fair!—ah! well-a-day!’
Pale turn'd her cheek—to earth's cold lap sunk she
Now Henry in despair mourns far away.
‘My Henry once so fair!—ah! well-a-day!’
Pale turn'd her cheek—to earth's cold lap sunk she
Now Henry in despair mourns far away.
| Poems on various subjects | |