...and. ah ! The low, the deep, 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 Which crazed...

...loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song that...choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land....

...loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude 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...

...and he touched the harp with the hand of a master : •" He played a soft and doleful air, He sang an old and moving story — An old rude 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, he could not...

...relied on as a faithful picture of the times and deeds of the heroic restorer of the French monarchy. " An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary." What parts are invented or elucidated in a novel manner by the said minstreless, is left to the discrimination...

...old and moving story, — An old mde 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, 1 could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon 1'is shield a burning...

...loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude 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...

...loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. 'I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary.' Or in: 'Wait only till the hand of eve Hath wholly closed yon western bars, And through the dark we...

...me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. 20 I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude 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...

...me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. 20 I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, 25 With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could...