 | Young Arthur |  |
LOST PEACE.
O, came ye o'er the barren moor,
Or down the mossy mountain;
O, came ye by yon rosy bow'r,
Or yonder sparkling fountain?
Or, came you by the greenwood shade,
And rove you whence or whither;
And did you see a wand'ring maid?
O, haste and call her hither.
Or down the mossy mountain;
O, came ye by yon rosy bow'r,
Or yonder sparkling fountain?
Or, came you by the greenwood shade,
And rove you whence or whither;
And did you see a wand'ring maid?
O, haste and call her hither.
O, by her lovely eyes of blue,
Whose beams so artless shew her;
O, by her cheeks of amaranth hue
And heavenly smile you'll know her:
What sweeter than her name can be?
'Tis Peace—she's gone ah! whither?
And if you pity feel for me,
O, haste and call her hither!
Whose beams so artless shew her;
O, by her cheeks of amaranth hue
And heavenly smile you'll know her:
What sweeter than her name can be?
'Tis Peace—she's gone ah! whither?
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O, haste and call her hither!
| Young Arthur | |