A BALLAD.
"The tapers are quench'd and the mass is said,
Lady, Lady! cease to weep!
Why clingest thou thus round the silent dead,
He goes to his grave so deep?"
Lady, Lady! cease to weep!
Why clingest thou thus round the silent dead,
He goes to his grave so deep?"
On the sable bier the Lady she gaz'd,
Her woe it is wild despair,
Her lip it is pale and her eye is glaz'd,
"Lady, Lady! hence to pray'r!"
Her woe it is wild despair,
Her lip it is pale and her eye is glaz'd,
"Lady, Lady! hence to pray'r!"
