The betrothed

Had I met thee in thy beauty

When my heart and hand were free,

When no other claim'd the duty,

Which my soul would yield to thee,

Had I wooed then, had I won thee,

Oh! how blest had been my fate;

But thy sweetness hath undone me,

I have found thee - but too late.

For to one my vows were plighted

With a falt'ring lip and pale;

Hands our cruel sires united,

Hearts were deemed of slight avail!

Thus my youth's bright morn o'ershaded,

Thus betrothed to wealth and state,

All love's own sweet prospect faded;

I have found thee - but too late.

Like the fawn that finds the fountain

With the arrow in his breast,

Or like light upon the mountain,

Where the snow must ever rest -

Thou hast known me, but forgot me,

For I feel what ills await

Oh! 'tis madness to have met thee -

To have found thee - but too late!