Page:Poems - Sayers (1792).djvu/64
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CHORUS,
CARRIL, in the Habit of a Bard.
CARRIL. Aside.
Under the cover of these sacred garments,
A sure protection from the hand of insult,
I yet may hope to find my much-lov'd Moina;
Since first my wounded limbs would bear me on
I've vainly wander'd; many a stately castle
Has hospitably cheer'd my fainting body,
But on my mind forlorn no gleam of joy
Hath yet arisen—perhaps within these walls—
Ah no—my tortures must not finish yet—
Would that the pious hands which found me bleeding
'Midst heaps of slain, had left me there to perish,
Then had the long calm sleep of death opprest me,
Nor had I wak'd to anguish—
A sure protection from the hand of insult,
I yet may hope to find my much-lov'd Moina;
Since first my wounded limbs would bear me on
I've vainly wander'd; many a stately castle
Has hospitably cheer'd my fainting body,
But on my mind forlorn no gleam of joy
Hath yet arisen—perhaps within these walls—
Ah no—my tortures must not finish yet—
Would that the pious hands which found me bleeding
'Midst heaps of slain, had left me there to perish,
Then had the long calm sleep of death opprest me,
Nor had I wak'd to anguish—
CARRIL.