...My hope, my joy, my Geneviève! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The gongs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and...rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. SÜSte ¡n bei- J?Mjíe fíe ifyn wartet Unb гок fein Soben рф gelegt, 2fíá er aufé gel&e Saub...

...must give one thought, and drop a tear To her whom love abandoned to despair. . . Prior. Timidity. She listen'd with a flitting blush. With downcast...modest grace, For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face With easy smiles dispell'd the silent fear That durst not tell me what I died to...

...old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest...grace ; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; And that for...

...old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest...grace ; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. 1 told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And that for...

...scene, HaoV blended with the lights of eve, And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Gencvieve. She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace, And she forgave me that I gaz'd Too fondly on her face." WE will pass over our heroine's grief for...

...and 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...

...! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing s The songs that make her grieve. X I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story...song that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew I could not...

...statne of the armed knight; She stood and listened to my harp, Amid the lingering light. I played a sad and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story, — An old rude song, that fitted well That ruin wild and hoary. Coleridge's Dark Ladie. He is forsworn, if e'tr those eyes of...

...The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving stoiy — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and-modest grace ; For well she knew, I could not...

...those eyes of your» Behold another day-break in the East. But even this night, whose black contagious I sang an old and moving story,— An old rude song, that fitted well That ruin wild and hoary. breath Already smokes about the burning crest OF the old, feeble,...