Ballad—in the Gipsies

Go, proud lover, go! Take vour heart back again; For me 'tis too low, Too unworthy a chain. Be haughty, imperious, this gipsy despise; You rise but to fall, while I fall to rise.

True love, never erring, Has no selfish fears; That, the more 'tis conferring, The nobler appears: It has no sordid views, no vile ends for its guide, 'Tis ungovern'd by int'rest, uninfluenc'd by pride.