 | The Legend of St. Loy |  |
XVIII.
“Father, my counsel do not scorn—“The bursts, of strongest feelings born,
“Thy soul's convulsions have been such,
“As jarred thine aged frame too much—
“Then come to St. Loy's healing stream,
“'Twill renovate thine injured frame—
“There miracles have erst been done,
“And thou, in need, mightst hope for one,
“Who art its priest, and dost dispense
“Its medicinal excellence;
“Then less to thee it may deny
“That which to all it doth supply.—
“And I will take my harp along
“To aid the cup of health with song.”
71
His arboured entrance to unclose.
They issue forth the Hermitage,
Grey Almar's feeble steps of age,
Sustained by Edwy's youth along,
Whose Harp beside his girdle hung,
Prepared its melody to roll,
When Heaven's own flash shall touch his soul.
| The Legend of St. Loy | |