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94  From the nightingale could learn Where she tarries to discern; There his noblest music swells Through the portals of the dells!
 * When I am from her away,

I have neither laugh nor lay! Neither soul nor sense is left, I am half of mind bereft; When she comes, with grief I part, And am altogether heart! Songs inspired, like flowing wine, Rush into the mind of mine; Sense enough again comes back To direct me in my track! Not one hour shall I be gay, Whilst my Morvyth is away!

deemed my features bright, And beautiful and fair, Until yon mirror met my sight— When, lo! an ugly face was there! And from that mirror I have learned, That now my beauty all is fled,