With clarion call,
No more shall Battle make me bold!
Or Chivalry fire my soul!... The wood,—
Away from all,
From love and lust,—shall house and hold
My misery!... The dawn breaks cold!
And I lie naked on the wold,
Angelica!
With clarion call,
No more shall Battle make me bold!
Or Chivalry fire my soul!... The wood,—
Away from all,
From love and lust,—shall house and hold
My misery!... The dawn breaks cold!
And I lie naked on the wold,
Angelica!