My uncle thirsteth, day and night,
For my possessions rare,
And therefore shuts me in this tower.
Hard-hearted and severe.
Here shall I bide, he threatens, choose
I not, in three days, whether
I wed his son, or leave the world.
For a cloister, altogether.
How quickly might the choice be made.
And I the veil assume,
Ah, had my youthful heart not loved
A youth in beauty's bloom.
The youngest at the tournament,
I saw him, and I loved,
So free, so noble, and so bold--
No one like him approved!"
"Be, noble lady, of good cheer.
No cloister shalt thou see,
Far less of that bad cruel man
The daughter ever be.
I can, I will deliver thee,
I have resolved it too,
To yield thee to thy youngling's arms.
As I am a Stolberg true!"
"Thou? Stolberg? O my grief is gone!
Mine angel led thee, sure;
Thou art the dear, dear youth for whom
These sorrows I endure.
Now say I free and openly,
What then my looks confest,
When I, my love, thy earliest lance
With oaken garland drest."
"O God! thou? my beloved child,
Eliza Mansfield Dove,
I loved thee, too, with the first look,
As none did ever love.
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