Page:Lass of fair wone, or, The parson's daugter (sic) betrayed.pdf/2



the parson’s bower of yew Why strays a troubled spright, That peaks and pines, and dimly shines Through curtains of the night?

Why steals along the pond of toads A gliding fire so blue, That lights a spot where grows no grass. Where falls no rain nor dew?

The parson’s daughter once was good. And gentle as a dove, And young and fair,—and many came To win the damsel’s love.

High o’er the hamlet, from the hill. Beyond the winding stream, The windows of a stately house In sheen of evening gleam.

There dwelt in riot, rout, and roar, A lord so frank and free; That oft, with inward joy of heart, The maid beheld his glee.