...cruel wrongs Befel the Dark Ladie. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevieve, She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. . , All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers...

...to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story— An old rude song, that suited well...

...love the tales which call forth a * Few sorrows hath she of her own. My hope, my joy, my Genevieve ; She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. LOVE. sympathy for which their own feelings give little occasion; while others, exhausted by the actual...

...ray lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Gcnevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I plny'da soft and doleful air, I Mini; ,ni old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well...

...light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er 1 sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, 1 sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She...

...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hopo ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her griere. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — And old rude song that...

...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that...rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a Sitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could...

...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own. My hope! my joy! my Generievc ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well...

...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well...

...cruel wrongs Befell the Dark Ladie. Few Sorrows halb she of her own. My hope, my joy, my Geneviève ! x All thoughts, all passions, all delights. Whatever stir this mortal frame, All are but ministers of...