The poem
THUS to be chain'd for ever, can I bear?
A very torment that, in truth, would be.
This very day my new resolve shall see.-- I'll not go near the lately-worshipp'd Fair.
Yet what excuse, my heart, can I prepare
In such a case, for not consulting thee?
But courage! while our sorrows utter we In tones where love, grief, gladness have a share.
But see! the minstrel's bidding to obey,
Its melody pours forth the sounding lyre,
Yearning a sacrifice of love to bring.
Scarce wouldst thou think it--ready is the lay;
Well, but what then? Methought in the first fire
We to her presence flew, that lay to sing.
1807Ä8.