...play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting...she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her Face, 13Q I told her of tke Knight, that wore Upon his Shield a burning Brand ; And that for ten long Years...

...My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er 1 sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest...

...My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story—- An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest...

...My Hope, my Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest...

...And, ah ! The low, the deep, the pleading tone,. With which I sang another's Love Interpreted my own. She listen'd with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest Grace;. And she forgave mo, that I gaz'd Too fondly on her Face! But when I told the cruel scorn Which craz'd...

...Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me bast, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest...

...Joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The Songs, that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful Air, I sang an old and moving Story — An old rude Song that fitted well The Ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting Blush, With downcast Eyes and modest...

...My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and...and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could not chuse But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ;...

...My hope! my joy! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and...An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild arid hoary. She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew,...

...ah ! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love, Interpreted my own. • She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace ; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face ! But when I told the cruel scorn That craz'd...