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“But chiefly by his face and mien
That were so fair to view,
His flaxen locks that sweetly curl’d,
And eyne of lovely blue.”

“O Lady, he is dead and gone!
Lady he's dead and gone!
And at his head a green-grass turf,
And at his heels a stone.

“Within these holy cloysters long
He languish'd and he died,
Lamenting of a lady's love,
And 'plaining of her pride.

“Here bore him barefac'd on his bier
Six proper youths and tall,
And many a tear bedev'd his grave
Within yon kirk-yard wall.”

"And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!
And art thou dead and gone!
And didst thou die for love of me?—
Break, cruel heart of stone !”

“O weep not, Lady, weep not so;
Some ghostly comfort seek:
Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart,
Nor tears bedev thy cheek.”

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“O do not, do not, holy Friar,
My sorrow now reprove;
For I have lost the sweetest youth
That e'er won lady's love.

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“Weep no more, Lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrow is in vain:
For violets pluck'd, the sweetest showers
Will ne'er make grow again.

“Our joys as winged dreams do fly,
Why then should sorrow last?
Since Grief but aggravates thy loss,
Grieve not for what is past.”

“O, say not so, thou holy Friar,
I pray thee, say not so; -
For since my true-love dy'd for me
'Tis meet my tears should flow.

“And will he never come again?
Will he ne'er come again?
Ah! no; he is dead, and laid in his grave,
For ever to remain.

“His cheek was redder than the rose;
The comeliest youth was hel-
But he is dead, and laid in his grave:
Alas, and woe is ne!”

“Sigh no more, Lady, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever:
One foot on sea and one on land, -
To one thing constant never.

“Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
And left thee sad and heavy;
For young men e'er were fickle found,
Since summer trees were leafy.”

“Now say not so, thou holy Friar,
I pray thee say not so;
My love he had the truest heart—
O he was ever true!

“And thou art dead, thou much-lov'd youth!
And didst thou die for me?
Then farewell home! for evermore
A pilgrim I will be.

“But first upon my true love's-grave
My weary limbs I'll lay,
And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf
That wraps his breathless clay.” |
“Yet stay, fair lady, rest a while,
Beneath this cloyster wall:
See, through the hawthorne blows the cold wind,
And drizzly rain doth fall.”


“O stay me not, thou holy Friar!
O stay me not, I pray!
No drizzly rain that falls on me
Can wash my fault away.”

“Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears;
For see, beneath this gown of grey
Thy own true-love appears!

“Here forc'd by grief and hopeless love,
These holy weeds I sought;
And here amid these lonely walls
To end my days I thought.

“But haply, for my year of grace
Is not yet pass'd away,
Might I still hope to win thy love,
No longer would I stay.”

“Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart;
For since I have found thee, lovely youth!
We never more will part.”

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Ene Saturn's sons were yet disgrac'd,
And heathen gods were all the taste,
Full oft (we read)'twas Jove's high will
To take an air on Ida's hill.
It chanc'd, as once with serious ken
He view'd from thence the ways of men,
He saw (and pity touch'd his breast)
The world by three foul fiends possest:
Pale Discord there, and Folly vain,
With haggard Vice, upheld their reign.
Then forth he sent his summons high,
And call'd a senate of the sky.
Round as the winged orders prest,
Jove thus his sacred mind exprest:
“Say, which of all this shining train
Will Wirtue's conflict hard sustain?
For see, she drooping takes her flight,
While not a god supports her right.”
He paus’d—when from amidst she sky,
Wit, Innocence, and Harmony,
With one united zeal arose,
The triple tyrants to oppose.
That instant from the realms of day
With generous speed they took their way!

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