«To rise no more,” and what should damp the fire Of freedom in the soul, and quench the spark, The heaven-born spark of liberty divine? Oh! what is life without the kindling glow But see, Erina, with a sylphic tread, And harp, light o'er her graceful shoulder thrown, Song. Oh! what are the pleasures this bosom has known, How blest do I feel, when together we rove, Amid the green arbour, or down the lone vale; For sweet are his accents, his eyes speak of love, And my heart beats concordant to every soft tale. But late when we wandered along by the shore, Where grandeur and beauty the footstep invite; How talked he of blessings that love had in store, And painted the joys of domestic delight! B . r So gallant is Oscar, his soul so sincere, So raptured, yet modest, his looks when he sues, That, oh! it is heaven his language to hear, And when he solicits, what maid could refuse? O Love, be propitious, attend to my sigh, So, blest with my Oscar, a stranger to care, The sweets of endearment thro' life we'll Existence in stable enjoyments we'll wear, pursue; And bid to the world and its nonsense adieu! Scarce died upon the breeze the melting strain, Ere Oscar, gently breaking thro' the shades, Before the rosy-featured minstrel stands, Upon his thoughtful brow appears a cloud Erina eyes the gathering gloom, that seems To threat her Oscar's peace; and while her looks "The present safety of my native land, "The glory of my country bids me hence, "To wield the sword against the cruel foe "That now invades our favoured soil, and dares "To seize our independence, and despoil "This arm, once more, I raise in such a cause; "For, oh! how sweet, when liberty invites "Exertion for our country's good, to brave "The roughest toils, endure the worst of ills, "And even waste our latest breath and die! "But, ah! the thought, sweet maid! of leaving thee, "In such a time, unguarded, and exposed "To ev'ry chance of war, my courage chills, "That Oscar's high-born soul has sunk |