I.
Come tell me some olden story
Of Knight or Paladin,
Whose sword on the field of glory
Bright laurel wreaths did win:
Tell me of the heart of fire
His courage rare did prove;
Speak onoh! I will not tire
But never talk of love.
II.
Or, if thou wilt, I shall hearken
Some magic legend rare
How the Wizards power did darken
The sunny summer air:
Thoult tell of Banshees midnight wail,
Or corpse-lights ghastly gleam
It matters not how wild the tale
So love be not thy theme.
III.
Or, perhaps thou mayst have travelled
On distant, foreign strand,
Strange secrets have unravelled
In many a far-off land;
Describe each castle hoary,
Each fair or frowning shore
But should love blend in thy story
Ill list thy voice no more.
IV.
Thou askest with emotion,
Why am I thus so cold,
Urging all thy past devotion,
Well knownwell tried of old;
Hush! bend a little nearer
That sad, oerclouded brow
Could love vows make thee dearer
To me than thou art now!
