Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1835.pdf/33

Rh

I have a lovely mountain bower, Where blooms a gentle Georgian flower; She was my spear's accustomed prize, The antelope hath not such eyes. Now my sweet captive loves her lot, What has a queen that she has not? Let her but wish for shawls or pearls, To bind her brow, to braid her curls; And I from east to west would fly, Ere she should ask and I deny. But those rich merchants must be near, Away, I cannot linger here; The vulture hovers o'er his prey, Come, my good steed—away!—away!