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For if thy love be firm and true,
Soon must thou bid their charms adieu!
A fate hangs o'er us, whose decree
Must bear me far from them or thee;
Our path is one of snares and fear,
I lose thee if I linger here!
Droop not, belov'd: thy home shall rise
As fair, beneath far distant skies;
As fondly tenderness and truth
Shall cherish there thy rose of youth.
But speak! and when yon hallow'd shrine
Hath heard the vows which make thee mine,
Say, wilt thou fly with me, no more
To tread thine own lov'd mountain-shore,
But share and soothe, repining not,
The bitterness of exile's lot?"
