...man, The statue of the armed knight ; She stood and listen' d to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevieve I She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air,...

...and ah ! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sung another's love, Interpreted my own, She listened with a flitting blush ; With down-cast eyes and modest grace ; And she forgave me that I gated Too fondly on her face. The book fell from my hand ; I could not...

...thought, and drop a tear To her whom love ahandoned to despair Prior. MAEVEL OF PEEC •tBABtUS. TtMtDtTY. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace, For well she knew l could not choose But gaze upon her face ........... Coleridge. With easy smiles dispelled the silent...

...man, The statue of the armed knight : She stood and listened to my harp Amid the ling'ring light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevieve...an old and moving story — An old rude song that fitted well The ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downeast eyes and modest...

...ling'ring light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope, my joy, ray Genevieve ! She loves me hest, whene'er I sing The songs, that make her grieve. I...air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude sang that fitted well The ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes...

...trembles most for thee ! 0 come, and hear what cruel wrongs Befell the Dark Ladie. Few Sorrows halh she of her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevieve! She...best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. All thoughts, all passions, all delight!, Whatever stir this mortal frame, All are bnt ministers of...

...of the armed knight ; She stood and listen'd to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows bath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs tbat make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, l sang an old and moving story — An old rude...

...man, The statue of the armed knight : She stood and listened to my harp Amid the ling'ring light. Few sorrows hath she of her own. My hope, my joy, my Genevieve ! She loves me hest, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old...

...and, ah ! The low, the deep, the pleading tone, With which J sang another's love, Interpreted my own. She listened 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 Which crazed...

...man, The statue of the armed knight ; She stood and listened to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve...make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, 1 sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She...