Perchance there grew a Jasmine-tree Beside his own ancestral hall, Where he had loved, in childhood's glee, To watch its short-lived blossoms fall: Alas! how soon those blossoms died, When severed from their native stem! Did not like early doom betide That captive? Drooped he not like them? Well knew the slender Jasmine-tree Within which casement high to peep, And where on soft winds gracefully With pendant starry branch to sweep. And silently her sweet sighs flung And when to battle's sanguine plain With heaving breast and weeping eye, |