Fight On, Brave Knights! Man

Where Shall The Lover Rest, Whom The Fates Sever From His True Maiden's Breast, Parted For Ever? Where, Through Groves Deep And High, Sounds The Far Billow, Where Early Violets Die, Under The Willow.

Besides, Rose Bradwardine, Beautiful And Amiable As We Have Described Her, Had Not Precisely The Sort Of Beauty Or Merit Which Captivates A Romantic Imagination In Early Youth. She Was Too Frank, Too Confiding, Too Kind; Amiable Qualities, Undoubtedly, But Destructive Of The Marvellous, With Which A Youth Of Imagination Delights To Dress The Empress Of His Affections.

In Man's Most Dark Extremity Oft Succour Dawns From Heaven.

Still Are The Thoughts To Memory Dear.

'tis An Old Tale, And Often Told; But Did My Fate And Wish Agree, Ne'er Had Been Read, In Story Old, Of Maiden True Betray'd For Gold, That Loved, Or Was Avenged, Like Me!