THE WILLOW.TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF J. J. ROUSSEAU.
I Planted thee, and watch'd thy growth,
Thou tender plaintive Willow-tree!
And oft, amid thy yielding boughs,
The little birds would sing to me.
Thou tender plaintive Willow-tree!
And oft, amid thy yielding boughs,
The little birds would sing to me.
Ah! sing no more ye little birds!
Ye happy, fond, and faithful band!
Poor Elinor was blithe as ye,
Till Henry left his native land.
Ye happy, fond, and faithful band!
Poor Elinor was blithe as ye,
Till Henry left his native land.
To seek the gold of eastern climes,
From love he flies, and death he braves—
Alas! when bliss at home is found,
Why risk it on th' uncertain waves?
From love he flies, and death he braves—
Alas! when bliss at home is found,
Why risk it on th' uncertain waves?