Classic Poem

Oh, Athelstane, the faithful!
Why linger at my gate?
Is not thy hopes yet blasted?
I for another wait.

Now hie thee, to yon forest;
'Tis Clare bids thee depart;
Nay, bow thee not in sorrow,
To break my bleeding heart!

" Oh Clare, why wed another?
Thou canst but give thy hand,
Thy heart is in my keeping,
Were I in foreign land. "

" Why tarry here, in bondage,
When freedom is so nigh?
My steed waits in yon forest,
And champs his bit to fly. "

" Far from thy cruel uncle,
Thy pining heart shall rest,
In peaceful bliss of Eden,
Upon thy lover's breast. "

" Oh, Athelstane, the faithful!
My heart is thine alone;
No more I'll brook their babble,
I'll fly with thee, mine own. "