(_For the Mirror._)
Dost wish to roam in foreign climes
Forget thy home and long past times?
Dost wish to be a wand'rer's bride,
And all thy thoughts in him confide?
Thou canst not traverse mountain seas,
Nor bear cold Lapland's freezing breeze;
Thou canst not bear the torrid heats,
Nor brave the toils a wand'rer meets;
Thou wouldst faint, dearest, with fatigue
Trav'ling the desert's sandy league.
Pale hunger with her sickly pains
Will silence thy heroic strains;
Thy heart--now warmly beats--will chill
And stop thy lover's wonted skill.
He could not see thee pine and weep
Nor could he ease thy troubled sleep--
'Twould quite unman his firm resolve,
And with grief thy love involve.