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Thomas Moore - Thro’ Grief And Thro’ Danger
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THRO’ grief and thro’ danger thy smile hath cheer’d my way,  
Till hope seem’d to bud from each thorn that round me lay;  
The darker our fortune, the brighter our pure love burned,  
Till shame into glory, till fear into zeal was turned,  
Oh! slave as I was, in thy arms my spirit felt free,          
And bless’d e’en the sorrows that made me more dear to thee.  
  
Thy rival was honoured, while thou wert wronged and scorned;  
Thy crown was of briers, while gold her brows adorned;  
She woo’d me to temples, while thou lay’st hid in caves;  
Her friends were all masters, while thine, alas! were slaves;          
Yet, cold in the earth at thy feet I would rather be,  
Than wed what I lov’d not, or turn one thought from thee.
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