THE FREE.
You may tell us of deeds justly branded with shame;
But if great ones heard truth, you could tell them the same;
And there's many a king would have less to repent
If his throne were as pure as the Gipsy's tent.
But if great ones heard truth, you could tell them the same;
And there's many a king would have less to repent
If his throne were as pure as the Gipsy's tent.
Pant ye for beauty?—Oh! where would ye seek
Such bloom as is found on the tawny one's cheek?
Our limbs, that go bounding in freedom and health,
Are worth all your pale faces and coffers of wealth.
There are none to control us, we rest or we roam;
Our will is our law, and the world is our home:
E'en Jove would repine at his lot if he spent
A night of wild glee in the Gipsy's tent.
Such bloom as is found on the tawny one's cheek?
Our limbs, that go bounding in freedom and health,
Are worth all your pale faces and coffers of wealth.
There are none to control us, we rest or we roam;
Our will is our law, and the world is our home:
E'en Jove would repine at his lot if he spent
A night of wild glee in the Gipsy's tent.
THE FREE.
The wild streams leap with headlong sweep
In their curbless course o'er the mountain steep;
All fresh and strong, they foam along;
Waking the rocks with their cataract song.
My eye bears a glance like the beam on a lance,
While I watch the waters dash and dance:
I burn with glee, for I love to see
The path of anything that's Free.
In their curbless course o'er the mountain steep;
All fresh and strong, they foam along;
Waking the rocks with their cataract song.
My eye bears a glance like the beam on a lance,
While I watch the waters dash and dance:
I burn with glee, for I love to see
The path of anything that's Free.
The skylark springs, with dew on his wings;
And up in the arch of heaven he sings
Trill-la, trill-la-oh! sweeter far
Than the notes that come through a golden bar.
And up in the arch of heaven he sings
Trill-la, trill-la-oh! sweeter far
Than the notes that come through a golden bar.
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