Years were days, when here she stray'd,
Days were moments near her;
Heav'n ne'er form'd a brighter maid,
Nor Pity wept a dearer !
Here's the bower, &c.

Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep.

Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep,

From the dreams of terror free; And may all, who wake to weep, Rest to-night as sweet as he! Hark! hark! did I hear a vesper swell? No, no-it is my loved Pilgrim's pray'r.

No, no-'twas but the convent bell,

That tolls upon the midnight air.

Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep!
Now, now again the voice I hear;

Some holy man is wand'ring near.

O Pilgrim! where hast thou been roaming?
Dark is the way, and midnight's coming.
Stranger, I've been o'er moor and mountain,
To tell my beads at Agnes' fountain.
And, Pilgrim, say, where art thou going?
Dark is the way, the winds are blowing.
Weary with wand'ring, weak, I falter,
To breathe my vows at Agnes' altar.
Strew, then, oh! strew his bed of rushes;
Here he shall rest till morning blushes.

Peace to them whose days are done,

Death their eyelids closing;

Hark! the burial rite's begun,

'Tis time for our reposing.

Here, then, my Pilgrim's course is o'er

'Tis my master! 'tis my master!-welcome here once

more;

Come to our shed, all toil is over;
Pilgrim no more, but knight and lover.

I can no longer stifle.

I can no longer stifle,

How much I long to rifle

That little part

They call the heart,

Of you, you lovely trifle!

You can no longer doubt it,

So let me be about it,

Or on my word,

And by the Lord,

I'll try to do without it.

This pretty thing's as light, Sir,

As any paper kite, Sir;

And here and there,

And God knows where,

She takes her wheeling flight, Sir.

Us lovers, to amuse us,
Unto her tail she nooses;

There, hung like bobs
Of straw, or nobs,

She whisks us where she chooses.

I saw the moon rise clear.

I saw the moon rise clear

O'er hills and vales of snow,
Nor told my fleet rein-deer
The track I wish'd to go.
But quick he boundeth forth;
For well my rein-deer knew
I've but one path on earth-
The path which leads to you.

The gloom that winter cast,
How soon the heart forgets!
When summer brings, at last,
The sun that never sets.
So dawn'd my love for you,
Thus chasing every pain;
More true than summer sun,
"Twill never set again.

Joys that pass away.

Joys, that pass away like this,
́Alas! are purchas'd dear,
If every beam of bliss

Is follow'd by a tear.

Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well!
Soon, too soon, thou hast broke the spell:
Oh! I ne'er can love again

The girl, whose faithless art
Could break so dear a chain,

And with it break my heart.

Once, when truth was in those eyes,

How beautiful they shone;

But now that lustre flies,

For truth, alas! is gone.

Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well!
How I've lov'd my hate shall tell.
Oh! how lorn, how lost would prove
Thy wretched victim's fate,

If, when deceiv'd in love,

He could not fly to hate.