She has no cheerful word for him, no blessing and godspeed;
And were there some light pretext to keep him at her side,
In chains of love she'd bind him there, whate'er the land betide.
Or, if 'twere fair that dames should dare the terrors of the fight,
She'd mount her jennet in his train and follow with delight.
For soon as o'er the mountain ridge his bright plume disappears,
She feels that in her heart the jealous smart that fills her eyes with tears.
Yet when he stands beside her and smiles beneath her gaze,
Her cheek is pale with passion pure, though few the words she says.
Her thoughts are ever with him, and they fly the mountain o'er