TRACY DE VORE AND HUBERT GREY.
One murmuring sigh escapes his lip;
The sweetest toned, the last:
Like the faint echo harpstrings give
Of thrilling music past.
The sweetest toned, the last:
Like the faint echo harpstrings give
Of thrilling music past.
The signet seal of other worlds.
Falls softly on his brow:
He seem'd but sleeping when it came,
He seems but sleeping now.
Falls softly on his brow:
He seem'd but sleeping when it came,
He seems but sleeping now.
For Death steals soft and smilingly
To close his earthly day;
Like the autumn breeze that gently wafts
The summer leaf away.
To close his earthly day;
Like the autumn breeze that gently wafts
The summer leaf away.
The Baron weeps; his look declares
All hope, all joy has fled.
His soul's adored; his house's pride;
His only born, is dead.
All hope, all joy has fled.
His soul's adored; his house's pride;
His only born, is dead.
The Castle is dark—no sound is heard
But the wailing of deep despair.
The lord and the vassal are mourning aloud
For the well-loved, noble heir.
Oh! truly does every heart deplore
The young and beautiful Tracy de Vore.
And Sorrow has found a dwelling-place
In the herdsman's lowly hut.
The door is fast against the sun;
The casement is closely shut.
But the wailing of deep despair.
The lord and the vassal are mourning aloud
For the well-loved, noble heir.
Oh! truly does every heart deplore
The young and beautiful Tracy de Vore.
And Sorrow has found a dwelling-place
In the herdsman's lowly hut.
The door is fast against the sun;
The casement is closely shut.
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