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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. 1807?8.
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