The Syren: Part I. Miscellaneous Songs, Song

Ere around the huge oak that o'ershadows you mill, The fond ivy had dar'd to entwine; Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill, Or the rook built his nest on the pine.

Could I track the time—a fair distant date, Since my forefathers toil'd in this field: And the farm I now hold on your honour's estate, Is the same that my grandfather till'd.

He dying bequeath'd to his sons a good name, Which unsullied descended to me, For my child I've preserv'd it unblemish'd with shame, And it still from a spot shall be free.