Classic Poem

A BALLAD .

Oh thou I lov'd, when wealth possessing!
Now lost beneath the raging sea —
In humble poverty, distressing,
I bid a last farewell to thee!

My gentlest hope for ever vanish'd,
My lovely Maid, I leave thee free!
Nor think a wretch, forlorn and banish'd,
Wou'd bring his miseries on thee.

If e'er the mournful news shou'd meet thee,
That Death my wish'd-for lot may be,
Let but one tear — I now intreat thee —
One precious tear be shed for me!

ANSWER .

And dost thou think I'll ever leave thee,
Since dismal now thy lot may be? —
The heart that never wou'd deceive me,
That heart is ever priz'd by me!

If banish'd to some lowly dwelling,
Which Pomp and Wealth may never see,
A thousand charms I'd find excelling,
Enrich'd by virtuous Love and thee!

And whilst thy noble heart was striving,
Each comfort to obtain for me,
With rival cares, I'd be contriving
To deck the passing hours for thee!

Not Winter, with his tempest howling,
Tho' keen his bitter frost may be!
Nor wolves, in dreary forest growling,
Shou'd make, my love, a change in me!

But oh! in sickness shou'dst thou languish,
And Death, alas! thy lot shou'd be —
I'd hide my bitter — bitter anguish,
Even then, my love, to comfort thee!