The Maid's Remonstrance

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a love-lorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you 're doing
In my cheek's pale hue?
All my life with sorrow strewing,
Wed, or cease to woo.

Rivals banished, bosoms plighted,
Still our days are disunited;
Now the lamp of hope is lighted,
Now half quenched appears,
Damped, and wavering, and benighted,
Midst my sighs and tears.

Charms you call your dearest blessing,
Lips that thrill at your caressing,
Eyes a mutual soul confessing,
Soon you 'll make them grow
Dim, and worthless your possessing,
Not with age, but woe!

Thomas Campbell

Thomas Campbell was a Scottish poet, born on July 27, 1777, and is best known for his sentimental poetry. His most famous works are 'The Pleasures of Hope' and 'Gertrude of Wyoming'. Campbell was also an advocate for the establishment of the University of London and the author of several historical works. He passed away on June 15, 1844. Campbell's lyrical verses often reflected themes of patriotism and humanism, and his contributions to literature have been recognized for their emotional depth and rhythm.

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English

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The Time I've Lost In Wooing.

The time I've lost in wooing,
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The Maid.

A certain maid, as proud as fair,
A husband thought to find
Exactly to her mind -
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Not cold nor jealous; - mark this well.
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The Ring.

TO .... ....


No--Lady! Lady! keep the ring:
    Oh! think, how many a future year,
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Do not disturb their tranquil dream,
    Though love hath ne'er the mystery warmed;
Yet heaven will shed a soothing beam,
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But then, that eye, that burning eye,--
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Away, away, bewildering look,
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Cupid And Psyche.

They told her that he, to whose vows she had listened
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Who Is The Maid? St. Jerome's Love. (Air.--Beethoven.)

Who is the Maid my spirit seeks,
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I chose not her, my heart's elect,
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The Irish Peasant To His Mistress.[1]

Thro' grief and thro' danger thy smile hath cheered my way,
Till hope seemed to bud from each thorn that round me lay;
The darker our fortune, the brighter our pure love burned,
Till shame into glory, till fear into zeal was turned;
Yes, slave as I was, in thy arms my spirit felt free,
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Thy rival was honored, while thou wert wronged and scorned,
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They slander thee sorely, who say thy vows are frail--
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