Thought ye your iron hands of pride
Could break the knot that love had tied?
No:—let the eagle change his plume,
The leaf its hue, the flower its bloom;
But ties around this heart were spun,
That could not, would not, be undone!
VIII.
“At bleating of the wild watch-fold
Thus sang my love—‘Oh, come with me:
Our bark is on the lake, behold