No more for liberty I pine,
No more for freedom crave;
My heart, dear Roseline, is thine,--
Thy fond, thy faithful slave.
First taught by thee I own'd love's pow'r,
And yielded to my chain;
Sigh through each sad and cheerless hour,
Yet bless the pleasing pain.
Sweet Roseline, my heart is thine,
It beats alone for thee;
In pity to my vows incline,
Or set the captive free.
Like a poor bird, in his lone cage,
I pine and flutter round,
Sullen and sad, in fruitless rage,
Yet still in fetters bound.