Classic Poem

Wake thy shrill blast on the mountain's side,
I come, I come to thee,
Where the torrent leaps o'er the rock's steep side,
A bandit's bride I'll be.

The daring eagle that soars on high
Is not more brave than thou;
Thy spirit is seen in thy flashing eye,
On thy broad, determined brow.

Yon dark ravine with its cavern deep,
Is the dwelling of the free;
For around it the brave their vigils keep—
A bandit's bride I'll be.

Thy faithful sword hath avenged thy wrongs—
A victor's crown thou'st won;
And my harp shall tell in its nightly songs,
Of deeds so nobly done.

I shall know no fear whatever betide,
I yield my heart to thee;
I will live as thou liv'st and die by thy side—
A bandit's bride I'll be.