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Yet I feel my heart is breaking,

When I think I stray from thee,
Round the world that quiet seeking,
Which I fear is not for me!

Farewell Bessy !
We may meet again.
Calm to peace thy Lover's bosom...

Can it, dearest, must it be,
Thou within an hour wilt lose him,
He for ever loses thee!

Farewell Bessy !
Yet, oh! not for ever.


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 love, some Pilgrim's pray’r. No, 'twas but the Convent bell,

That tolld upon the midnight air. 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.

Pilgrim in Second Voice.
Stranger, I've been o'er moor and mountain,
To tell my beads at Agnes' Fountain.

First Voice.
And, Pilgrim, say where art thou going?
Dark is the way, the winds are blowing.

Second Voice.
Weary with wand'ring, weak I falter,
To breathe my Vows at Agnes’ Altar.

First Voice.
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.

Second Voice.
Here then my Pilgrim's course is o’er.

First Voice.
Tis my Master, welcome home once more.

First Voice.
Come to our shed, all toil is over,
Pilgrim no more, but Knight and Lover.


Thou has sent me a flowery band

And told me 'twas fresh from the field,

That the leaves were untouch'd by a hand,

And the sweetest of odours would yield. And indeed it is fragrant and fair,

But if it were breath'd on by thee, It would bloom with a livelier air,

And would surely be sweeter to me.

Let the odorous gale of thy breath

Embalm it with many a sigh ; Nay, let it be wither'd to death

Beneath the warm noon of thine eye. And instead of the dew that it bears,

The dew dropping fresh from the tree, On its leaves let me number the tears

That affection has stolen from thee!


Could'st thou look as dear as when

First I sigh'd for thee;
Could'st thou make me feel again
Ev'ry wish I breath'd thee then,

Oh! how blissful life would be !
Hopes, that now beguiling leave me,

Joys that lie in slumber cold,
All would wake, could'st thou but give me

One dear smile like those of old !

Oh! there's nothing left us now

But to mourn the past ;
Vain was every ardent vow,
Never yet did heaven allow

Love so warm, so wild, to last.
Not ev'n hope could now deceive me,

Life itself looks dark and cold ;
Oh! thou never more canst give me

One dear smile like those of old !


The young Rose which I give thee, so dewy and

bright, Was the flow'ret most dear to the sweet bird of night; Who oft by the moon o'er her blushes hath hung, And thrill'd ev'ry leaf with the wild lay he sung.

Oh! take thou this young Rose, and let her life be Prolong'd by the breath she will borrow from thee! For while o'er her bosom thy soft notes shall thrill, She'll think the sweet night-bird is courting her still,


Our white sail caught the ev'ning ray,

The wave beneath us seem'd to burn, When all my weeping love could say,

Was “Oh! soon return!”

Thro' many a clime our ship was driv'n,

O’er many a billow rudely thrown,
Now chill'd beneath a northern heav'n,

Now sunn'd by summer's zone.
Yet still where'er our course we lay,

When ev’ning bid the west wave burn,
I thought I heard her faintly say,

“Oh! soon return."

If ever yet my bosom found

Its thoughts a moment turn'd from thee, 'Twas when the combat rag'd around,

And brave men look'd to me.
But, though 'mid battle's wild alarm

Love's gentle power might not appear,
He gave to glory's brow the charm,

That made e’en danger dear.
And then, when vict'ry's calm came o'er

The hearts where rage has ceas'd to burn,
I heard that farewell voice once more-

“Oh! soon return.”


Pain and sorrow shall vanish before us,

Youth may wither, but feeling will last; All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er us,

Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.

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