Then speak to me of by-gone days, 
And tell me, for thou sure canst tell, 
If peace forsake the peasant’s cot 
In regal hall to dwell.’ 
{ Ah, lady, deem not so — grim care 
Too oft a monarch’s path attends, 
And sentinels his palace gate, 
And o’er his pillow bends. 
For me, far rather would I deck 
The milkmaid’s than the chieftain’s brow 
And blossom on this verdant knoll, 
Than in trim gardens grow.’ 
