Page:Landon in The New Monthly 1826.pdf/10

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Look round! is not this a fair land? Are not its daughters fair? Are not its castles stately ones? Choose thou and have thy share.— "No! Conqueror, no!" Sir Guilbert said, "My portion is not here; The air bears on 't the widow's curse, The ground the orphan's tear. I join'd thy banner as a knight, And not as a brigand: My soldier's duty done, I will Away to mine own land. I will not have your English ground, Nor yet your English dame; I came with but my sword and steed, I will go as I came. A little tower in Normandie Was where I had my birth; I will return to it,—no blood Cries from my father's hearth. Sir King, thou art as brave a knight As e'er stemm'd battle wave; But thy heart's temper'd as thy brand. Thou art as stern as brave. For me, I am of softer mould, I cannot bear the moan That haunts me here;—whate'er my home. At least it is mine own. The breeze is rising on the sea, I see the white sails swell; My bark is waiting but for me,— Sir King, farewell! farewell!"