The Knight's Farewell
Dublin Core
Title
The Knight's Farewell
Description
DEAR ANGEL of my heart,
Dry up those pearly dews,
At eve tho' I depart,
Think not `twill be for years.
Some morn like this, my love,
I'll bring thee back thy Knight,
Thy plighted faith he'll prove,
And seek no more the fight.
Deem'st thou our haughty foes,
With all their savage fire,
Can match our heroes' blows?
Live `neath Castilian ire?
No, sweet, they may not stand,
The chivalry of Spain;
When dauntless hearts command,
And marshal on the plain!
`Tis eve I must away,
The moon lights up the scene,
And but for battle fray,
Love dreams should intervene.
I go, but thoughts of thee,
Shall nerve in darkest hour,
Till Paynim bands shall flee,
And I regain thy bower.
Dry up those pearly dews,
At eve tho' I depart,
Think not `twill be for years.
Some morn like this, my love,
I'll bring thee back thy Knight,
Thy plighted faith he'll prove,
And seek no more the fight.
Deem'st thou our haughty foes,
With all their savage fire,
Can match our heroes' blows?
Live `neath Castilian ire?
No, sweet, they may not stand,
The chivalry of Spain;
When dauntless hearts command,
And marshal on the plain!
`Tis eve I must away,
The moon lights up the scene,
And but for battle fray,
Love dreams should intervene.
I go, but thoughts of thee,
Shall nerve in darkest hour,
Till Paynim bands shall flee,
And I regain thy bower.
Creator
Arion
Source
2:17, p. 135
Date
1828.07.18
Collection
Citation
Arion, “The Knight's Farewell,” Periodical Poets, accessed May 4, 2024, https://periodicalpoets.com/items/show/155.
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