...My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and...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...

...hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best , whene'er I sing The songs. that mate her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and...song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. % She listen' d with a ßitting blush, lVith downcast eyes and modest grace, For well she knew . I could...

...sad and doleful air, I sung an old and moving story ; An old rude song, that fitted well The ruins wild and hoary. She listen'd with a flitting blush,...eyes and modest grace, For well she knew I could not chuse But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight who wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And...

...own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevivre She loves me best, wheneVr I sing The song* that make her griere. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story— An u'd rude tong, that suited well That ruin wild and hoar* She listened with a flitting blush, V- itii...

...My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and...and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could not chuse But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ;...

...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 crazed...

...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 ! That sometimes from the savage den, And...

...day can, to my mind, be for an instant compared to them in any one particular. The love of Lord Bvron is the love, — if we may so degrade that term, —...story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wUd and hoary. She listen'd, with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace : For well...

...an old and moving story ; An old rude song, that fitted well The ruins wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace, For well she knew I could not chuse But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight who wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And...

...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 crazed...