“ERE WITH COLD BEADS OF MIDNIGHT DEW”
ERE with cold beads of midnight dew Had mingled tears of thine, I grieved, fond Youth! that thou shouldst sue To haughty Geraldine. Immoveable by generous sighs, She glories in a train Who drag, beneath our native skies, An oriental chain. Pine not like them with arms across, Forgetting in thy care 10 How the fast-rooted trees can toss Their branches in mid air. The humblest rivulet will take Its own wild liberties; And, every day, the imprisoned lake Is flowing in the breeze. Then, crouch no more on suppliant knee, But scorn with scorn outbrave; A Briton, even in love, should be A subject, not a slave! 20 1826.